It is three a.m on Labor Day and I am looking wearily over a sea of metal tops. I had spent nearly the entire day slumped over my kitchen table or a simmering stove turning freshly picked fruit into a winter refuge( and occasionally supervising my children). Into a January reminder that there is light at the end of a long, frozen tunnel. With visions of pillows dancing through my head I stared at a measuring cup full of a silky seductress that was the slightly scandalous marriage of peaches, raspberries, white wine, sugar, and just a hint...of insanity. I used the wine to steep the fruit which became jam, but the liquid remained, so I used it to poach peaches...and after I was left with this velvety syrup that would not be simply poured down the sink. It had dignity, pride, and booze....so much booze. 
So...in the wee...very tiny hours of the morning, I gave birth to a mason jar of what I hoped would be goodness. This little beauty is what happens when you set a naughty little syrup minx loose on an unsuspecting, and rather unremarkable Pinot Grigio in a confined space. Oh...she had her way with that wine, and then later that day a dear friend and I had our way with her...to the very last drop. And...how sensational is it to offer someone a beverage out of a mason jar? Cla-ssy.That mason jar bevie and mismatched portions of vodka in our cabinet inspired me to try something I had been thinking over for quite a while...an infusion. And so this is where the experiment comes in. I took two jars
and one main fruit, but decided to go in different directions. The peaches and raspberries had worked before, there is something to be said for sticking with a a proven winner. Jar number two I devoted to peach, cinnamon and fresh basil. Both jars got a healthy dose of vodka and now? Now they will marinate in our basement for two weeks. Infused liquor does not get better with age, so I guess I will need to have an opening party.
i hope to be there :)
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