The Pinelands Old Fashioned
It was an early February morning in 2014, and snowflakes were falling on the roof of our tent. I climbed out from under the mountain of blankets, in my bundle of warm clothes, and began to build a fire in our wood stove. As I continued to add wood, the water glasses on our nightstands began to thaw, and the sweet smell of smoke permeated the air. Once the eggs in the stovetop skillet started to sizzle and the coffee was ready, Katie joined me for breakfast in our chairs in front of the stove.
As with any Old Fashioned, the nuances of the drink begin to shine through as the ice melts.
This was a ritual that we had perfected that winter, the winter we lived in a tent. Most of our days would be spent in front of the stove talking, reading, cooking and keeping the fire roaring so that snow wouldn’t accumulate on the roof. That winter was the coldest in 37 years, with 200% more snowfall than the annual average. Just a few weeks earlier, we were unable to drive home during a particularly nasty winter storm, and we returned to find our roof had collapsed under the weight of the ice and snow. It was perhaps our lowest moment of the whole experience; our things were soaked and many of our belongings were crushed (luckily our two cats were spared). We rebuilt and kept at it.
As the snow continued to fall, I opened the entrance flap, gazed out at the whitewashed landscape around us and admired our surroundings. The tent was in the middle of a 200-acre farm on the outer edge of the Pine Barrens. The farm mostly produced trees and squash, but we moved there to help the family start growing a variety of foods. We explored every inch of the woods around the farm, and I developed a profound respect for the Pines. We moved in during the height of the summer’s bounty, and watched as everything died off in the fall and came back to life again in the spring. We spent a lot of time learning about the local indigenous flora and fauna, and have come to realize that the term “barren” is most certainly a misnomer.
In early July, a trip to the Pine Barrens can actually yield quite a bounty, and I’ve made a cocktail called The Pinelands Old Fashioned that is a snapshot of a daytrip into the forest during this time. The drink starts its life on the side of a dirt road that, like much of the Pines, has recently been cleared by wildfire. Pitch-pine saplings have risen from the ashes, and I harvest their bright green tips to make into a smoked pine syrup and a tincture. Next, I head to the side of a bog that is lined with dozens of wild blueberries and huckleberry bushes. I will infuse the fruit in a spicy Pennsylvania rye whiskey, rendering it a beautiful bright blue.
The blueberry rye, smoked pine syrup and pine tincture will be substituted for the traditional spirit, sugar, and bitters in a classic Old Fashioned. Smoke, the lemony tang of pitch pine, the acidic, yet sweet blueberries all come together harmoniously in a drink that embodies the region’s terroir. As with any Old Fashioned, the nuances of the drink begin to shine through as the ice melts, and with each sip I’m reminded of a region I’ve come to respect and know so well: The New Jersey Pine Barrens.
