Allorino, Bay Leaf Liqueur

 
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The cult of the digestivo is a big thing in Italy, and they do it particularly well down here in Puglia.   At the end of any restaurant meal, and many home ones too, out come the digestivi, these potent, aromatic draughts sweet or bitter or both.   It’s part and parcel of the meal-deal, a final parting gift from your host, designed to settle the stomach after a full, rich, lengthy bout of eating. 

What you get depends on what’s lurking behind the bar.  A little bottle of limoncello is a regular offering partnered perhaps with a flasklet of dark, sticky cherry liqueur made by the owner’s mother, or a bottle of Sicilian Averna, an amaretto or bitter artichoke Cynar.  

Here I should admit that though I like the idea of the digestivo, I’m not so keen on actually drinking them.   Spirits just ain’t my thing, though I’m working on it.  It seems churlish to downright refuse when they are offered with a generous smile.  A small quantity is all that’s required, after all.   So I’m sipping my way across the range, easing into the vibe.  Somewhere along the way I was introduced to Allorino, a home-made liqueur impregnated with the intense, almondy, herbal flavour of bay leaves.  Oh my, how good is this new discovery!

Bottle of homemade Allorino in my home in Puglia

Allorino (the Italian for bay leaf is foglia d’alloro) is a joyful multi-tasker.   Sipped neat, it warms the cockles on a chilly night, but it’s equally good over ice on a steamy summer evening.  Of late, I’ve taken to lengthening it with a good splash or three of Prosecco to make a damn fine Bay Spritz.   It slips down very nicely. It struck me, as I poured a tot of allorino, that it also has just enough of a medicinal twang to soothe snuffles and coughs and other minor ailments. Now that I have my first Italian raffreddoro (i.e. a cold but it sounds so much more stylish) I’ve been able to test the theory. After a lightly warmed allorino nightcap, I slept sweetly and easily for the first time in days. Case proved.

It is easy to make, as long as you have access to a bay tree.  You need lots of bay leaves. It’s been a fair old while since I’ve had a garden, let alone one with a decent sized bay tree in it. Now that I no longer live in north Oxford, I can admit that I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the district’s pavement-accessible back-street bay trees. My top find was a decent-sized bush with unbelievably huge and magnificent leaves, conveniently situated on one of the many streets that link Woodstock and Banbury Road. If you recognise the description, if this is your beautiful bay tree, I’d like you to know how much I have admired it over the years. Thank you. And thank your lucky stars that I didn’t discover Allorino until well after my departure from the city.

For this first batch, the bay leaves were knowingly and willingly donated by my friend Wendy, who has an epic bay tree somewhere in her terrena.

Bay leaves soaking in liqueur

Other than the bay leaves, water and patience, you need only two ingredients: white sugar, granulated or caster, and dragon’s-breath strong, flavourless alcohol. In Italy (and France and most other European countries) you can buy 96% proof alcohol in any supermarket, sold precisely to make liqueurs like this.  Vodka works fine as a substitute, although it doesn’t pack anything like the same punch. Most vodkas contain around 38-40% ABV (alcohol by volume) although you can get stronger vodkas at a price. In the UK ABV and percent proof are essentially the same thing. Confusingly, in the USA, percent proof is double ABV. Enough to make your head spin before the first sip. Ultimately the point is that you need to use more of your average vodka to balance the relationship of bay to booze to sweetness.

Allorino, or Liquore di Alloro or Bay Leaf Liqueur

Makes around 1-1.5 litres

60 fresh bay leaves (a few more or less is fine)

500 ml 96% proof alcohol or 700 ml vodka

400g caster or granulated sugar

Rinse and dry the bay leaves.   Pop into a bowl or large glass kilner jar or crock.  Pour in the alcohol, stir, then cover loosely and leave to macerate at room temperature.   Forget about it for at least 2 weeks.  A month is better.  As the days pass, the alcohol draws out the colour and flavour of the bay leaves. Check occasionally and admire.

Heat the sugar with 500 ml water, stirring frequently, until the sugar has completely dissolved.   Leave to cool.  

Strain the now beautifully green alcohol to remove the bay leaves.   Mix with the sugar syrup.  Decant into sterilised bottle(s).  Seal tightly and store in a cool place for another week or two. 


Enjoyed this recipe? browse more classic Puglian recipes in the recipes category.

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