For Thanksgiving, I'm doing a braised red cabbage recipe that calls for juniper berries (the new LA Times recipe, which I'll link to on the appropriate post.)
I tried to hunt these down in the usual area stores, but nobody seems to be carrying them.
You'd think I could hunt down some juniper berries off a shrub in the neighborhood, albeit not plump or appropriately dried, but I couldn't even find one with berries in a quick perambulation.
So, it's on to the substitute. The last time I had to sub for juniper berries I just threw in what seemed like the right amount of gin. What was the right amount? I figured a good shot. No science at all. I can't remember what happened. That may be a sign I put in too much gin. I think it might've been a Christmas pudding or fruit cake, but the mind is blank on specifics.
In any event, this is what we keep really really old cookbooks around for. Courtesy an ancient Fanny Farmer, the correct substitution is one teaspoon for every two juniper berries. That seems like a lot of gin - that's going to be two tablespoons of gin in my recipe -- but I'm game. It's easier than fighting the supermarket crowds right now.
Except, amazingly, when I got home I discovered we have no gin. This from a once prolific consumer of gimlets, too. I haven't been replacing the hard liquor in the cabinet when it runs out, except for the most common cooking stuff (amaretto, brandy, et alia) largely because we have more or less completely ceased having even the occasional cocktail since parenthood took over. (And for that matter, the celebrated parties we had back in Pittsburgh with our equally child-free friends are now a thing of the past, so I don't even have others to bartend for. While I do believe cocktails are a legit form of the cooking art...it's just that you can't really experiment with more than one a day with kids in the house, and even then, go find the time.)
So I may skip the juniper in the recipe, unless I happen to be driving by a convenient package store tomorrow. I'm not going to risk my life in a grocery store on the day before Thanksgiving, that's for sure.
