These little tendrils of joy delight me with their quiet insidious clamberings over the less subtle denizens of the hedgerow. Suck the flowers for a tiny, yet hugely rewarding sweet nectar hit, then chew to enjoy generous pea flavours. The delicate leaves and tendrils from the end of the stems make excellent garnishes, in the vein of “microherbs” so popular with chefs nowadays. Only these are nicer. And free.

This adorable, delicate little flower clings tenaciously to sea cliffs, upper reaches of shingle beaches and the foreshore. The tips of the foliage have a unique flavour, though with a somewhat bitter aftertaste in summer. The flowers have a delicious hit of sweet nectar followed by an extraordinary fresh “mouth feel”…

There is something about alcoholic aniseed flavours that works wonderfully with sunshine – as witnessed by the popularity of drinks on the licorice-anise spectrum around the med: absinthe, ouzo, sambuca, anis…I could go on. So I figured why not use our indigenous (in the north of Britain anyway) sweet cicely (myrrhis oderata) to make a cocktail.

Really, such a delicious cocktail should have a more intriguing name. But when we tasted this, after 3 days foraging Islay in beautiful sunshine for the ingredients, its crisp aromatics just sung of the islands woods, marshes, hedgerows, moors and coast…

“Tis a well known fact that most men are born two drinks below par.” – Compton MacKenzie, Whisky Galore
In recognition of this universal (if unfairly gendered) truth, humans have enjoyed alcoholic stimulation from wild plants for very nearly as long as they have been eating them. Ever since our distant ancestors recognised the uplifting effects of over-ripe fruit (and decided they outweighed the depressing effects), much of humankind has been caught in a love affair with alcohol that has reached a startling level of complexity.