Home-infused spirits are always a good wheeze, but in my experience, with the exception of sloe gin (which I have adored ever since I was presented with a tiny liqueur-glassful at the age of seven by my grandparents), tend to find their way to the novelty corner of the drinks cabinet. This weekend, though, I was introduced by old friends to one that more than holds its own in the front tier: a beech-leaf noyau. 

There is something so irresistibly Squirrel Nutkin about a beech liqueur. I'm thinking warm autumn evenings sipping the stuff whilst sitting around a tree stump playing ninepins with crab apples and green fir-cones (pastis and pétanque are so over). 'Noyau' is French for kernel, but it's also a liqueur made by steeping plants in spirits. A beech-leaf noyau might involve a few hefty handfuls of fresh young leaves in a jar with gin, brandy and sugar syrup. Macerate for a few weeks, then strain. It tastes delicate, vegetal, sweet (but not too much), and unmistakably of woodland. If it's very important to you to remain etymologically correct, I feel confident that, come September, this would be delightful made with beech nuts (which are delicious), too, but please don't quote me. Serendipity is what these foraged things are all about.