Blackberry Brandy Slush

Snow on Black Mountain Tuesday. Three inches. The roads were greasy by Wednesday. Worked at the construction company in Lexington this week. The body holds. Most days.

Connie at the vet clinic, four shifts this week. Her back is tired. She does not say so. I see it. Mama is 85. She is the toughest person I have ever known. She still cooks every day in the company house in Evarts.

Beef stew Tuesday. Chuck cubed. Carrots, potatoes, onions. The weekly winter dinner.

Travis called Tuesday. The landscaping company is busy. He sounds tired in a good way. Amber called from Louisville. Hospital is busy. Floor nurse to charge nurse to nurse manager — she is the most successful Hensley alive.

Earl would have known what to say about that. Earl is not here. I said nothing. I went on.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

I split a half-cord of wood Saturday. Slowly. The back does not let me work fast anymore. It got done. The wood was for the smokehouse.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

Read the paper at breakfast Tuesday. The county news is not great. The mines have not come back and they will not come back. The young people leave. The hollows empty. We stay.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

My back was tight after the wood-splitting Saturday. Took an Aleve. Slept eight hours. Got up.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

Connie put up twelve jars of wild blackberry jam that Saturday, and the whole kitchen smelled like the hollow in August — dark and sweet and a little tart at the edges. I had been sitting with that bourbon on the porch Friday, watching the fog come in, and it occurred to me that those same blackberries deserved more than just the pantry shelf. The Blackberry Brandy Slush is what you make when the fruit has done its work and you want to sit still a while — something cold for a warm Saturday, something just strong enough to honor a long week without rushing through it.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 6 hr 30 min (includes freeze time) | Servings: 16

Ingredients

4 cups fresh or frozen blackberries
2 cups water
1 cup granulated sugar
1 can (12 oz) frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
1 can (12 oz) frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
2 cups brandy
4 cups cold water (for mixing)
2 liters ginger ale or lemon-lime soda, chilled (for serving)
Fresh blackberries and mint sprigs, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Make the blackberry syrup. Combine blackberries, 2 cups water, and sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a low boil, stirring occasionally, until sugar dissolves and berries break down completely, about 8–10 minutes.
Strain and cool. Pour the blackberry mixture through a fine mesh strainer into a large bowl, pressing the solids with the back of a spoon to extract all the juice. Discard solids. Let the syrup cool to room temperature, about 20 minutes.
Mix the slush base. Stir in the thawed lemonade concentrate, orange juice concentrate, brandy, and 4 cups cold water until fully combined.
Freeze. Pour the mixture into a large freezer-safe container or two gallon-size zip-lock bags laid flat. Freeze for at least 6 hours, or overnight, until slushy and firm but scoopable.
Serve. Scoop about 1/2 cup of the frozen slush mixture into each glass. Pour chilled ginger ale or lemon-lime soda over the top until the glass is full and the slush is loosened to a slushy consistency. Stir gently and garnish with fresh blackberries or mint if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blackberry Brandy Slush — From the Hollow to the Porch Glass