Field Notes: Black Cherry Liqueur

"This time of year, our attention turns to roots and bark."

By Marika Josephson

As I write this, it’s late winter in Southern Illinois. Trees are spindles on a gray landscape. We had a long weekend of glorious snow. By the end of this week, it will all melt into mud as temperatures swing back to the fifties.

This time of year, our attention turns to roots and bark. This is not a region for evergreens, and there is nothing sprouting in the garden. This is when we brew the majority of our beers with cedar branches, rose roots, hickory, and wild cherry bark—things we have preserved in jars or can easily identify and harvest when the ground is frozen.

Two weeks ago, we cut down the remnants of a black cherry tree that had died precariously close to one of our structures. In single-digit temperatures, my business partner, Aaron, split most of the logs for firewood. I saved a few choice pieces to carve into bowls and spoons. We shaved the bark off the rest of the branches to put into beer.