Shrub: Drinking Vinegar, from Colonial Times to Current Day

The advent of the craft cocktail in the early 2000s ushered in a renewed focus on classic beverages along with host of new and novel drinks. Notable in the last category is a previously little-known vinegared syrup called a shrub, which in this case, is not a small bush on your front lawn. Essentially, a shrub is a drinking vinegar traditionally composed of a fruit and a sweetener combined with vinegar to create a unique sweet-tart flavor. It adds complexity to drinks and dishes made with preserved fruit that otherwise have spoiled or gone to waste.

The story of shrubs stretches back to ancient times. The name comes from the Arabic word sharab, meaning drink. (The words shrub and syrup can also be traced to sharab.) Shrub is a derivation of what in the age-old Middle East was called sherbet, a combination of citrus fruit, spices, flowers, and or nuts preserved with sugar instead of alcohol since many Muslims abstain

In the mid-17th century, trading ships brought sherbet to Western Europe, where it became a mixture of citrus, sugar, and rum or brandy, and was referred to by a variety of names; shrub stuck. The drink was also used medicinally on trading and navy ships, where it was used to prevent scurvy. 

Shrubs book

A process and a product, Michael Dietsch, author of Shrubs: An Old-Fashioned Drink for Modern Times, says, “it’s a way of combining ingredients to make a drink that is a unique culinary experience. I'm not sure anybody's done the research in what's going on with the chemistry when you make a shrub because it's almost like an ecosystem. The vinegar and sugar mellow out, and the character of the fruit flavor starts to change. You have something that's not just a combination of flavors, it's a new flavor.”

Dietsch was first introduced to shrubs at a Tales of the Cocktail gathering in 2008 in New Orleans, where he and colleagues were struck by its refreshing quality. “There was something about the brightness of the acidity of the vinegar that helped to liven us up after having been wilting in the heat and humidity,” he recalls. “That was kind of a revelation to me because in all of the various types of cocktails I've tried nothing ever had that kind of effect on me.” That’s because vinegar is good at promoting salivation, which makes a person feel hydrated and quenches thirst — it also stimulates the appetite. Dietsch started making shrubs from every fruit he could find, enjoying exploring the culinary, scientific, and historical aspects of his newfound discovery.  

Crafted using a cold or hot process; the cold process takes a few days to infuse and the hot, which cooks the fruit with sugar until it becomes a syrup, takes an hour or two but can mute the flavor. Shrubs can also be a blended drink with fruit juice, spirits such as rum or brandy, and diluted by water, like sparkling mineral water or tonic. While no definitive evidence exists as to why alcohol was incorporated into the shrub, theories suggest that it may have been used in England to cover up the taste of rum that had been polluted by salty seawater. 

Shrubs made their way in the early 1700s to America, where they were a favorite of Martha Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Colonial fruit vinegars, similar to today’s shrubs, were also popular at that time. By the mid-1800s, both were called shrub. According to Dietsch, the shrub as we know it was first referred to in a cookbook written by Lydia Maria Childs which espoused frugality in running a household; thereafter, recipes of the non-alcoholic syrup became more widespread
Shrubs remained popular up until the arrival of Prohibition, the prevalence of refrigeration, and the rise of carbonated drinks. Dietsch says a drink like Coca-Cola with its acidic or bitter component, balanced with sweetness and the carbonation’s effervescence, is formulated to capture some of the same appeal as a shrub. 

The tradition of shrub making almost entirely disappeared, though a few rural communities continued it. In 1987, a local farmer named David Tait was searching for ways to use an abundance of raspberries when a friend reminded him of an old Pennsylvania Dutch shrub recipe. Tait started making and selling shrubs under the brand Tait Farm Foods; a 2004 Wall Street Journal article brought him and his shrubs to the forefront, launching a revival of the sprightly, sweet syrup which was accelerated by the craft cocktail movement. 

I can see why. Tait’s raspberry shrub, still their most popular, adds a slight sweetness to and is a zippy match for the ginger beer in a Moscow mule. Their lime mint shrub enlivens seltzer with a sweet tang, suggestive of whiling away a summer day sitting on a deep Southern porch.  In addition to Tait’s shrubs, which have won numerous awards – 18 flavors are produced on a rotating basis – small farms, foragers, and even chefs including Andy Ricker of the late Pok Pok restaurants are now crafting shrubs. Rebranded as Som Cordials from Pok Pok, the line includes flavors such as Thai basil, ginger, tangerine sea salt and cranberry.

Underlining shrub’s cultural significance, in 2006, it was voted into the international catalog of Slow Ark of Taste, the organization that works to preserve and raise awareness of traditional foods, breeds, and culinary knowledge in danger of becoming extinct. Novelists William Makepeace Thackeray and Patrick O’Brian both wrote in detail about shrubs in their books.

There are many reasons why they are enjoying a renaissance. Shrubs add pop to cocktails, non-alcoholic beverages, and marinades. Crafting shrubs combats food waste and fits with the current trends of mixologist creativity and the bar and kitchen working closely together, particularly in seasonal eateries.

Jason Friedman, bar manager of The Blind Pig in Orange County, CA, learns about vinegar from his chefs and says he pays attention to “how different vinegars work within different flavor profiles and what they can do for a drink.”  He uses shrubs frequently in his draft cocktail program as they won’t turn rancid, as citrus might. 

Interestingly, Friedman says fruit is not a prerequisite for a shrub. His cocktail menu currently features a South American twist on a mojito which includes a chimichurri shrub of pureed parsley, mint and cilantro, simple syrup, and red wine vinegar, a traditional ingredient in a chimichurri sauce. For an agave shrub, he also mixes vinegars, rice wine, malt, banyuls, and white wine.

Evergreen Terrace photo credit The Blind Pig Kitchen and Bar

In Korean culture, people sip on drinking vinegar, says Tiffany Ran, a chef in Seattle who hosts Taiwanese food pop-ups and caters private dinners. But to her, a shrub has always been a cooking ingredient. Shrubs, particularly plum shrubs as plum blossom is the country’s national flower, are commonplace in Taiwanese cooking.

Ran loves the “really beautiful brightness” from the plum shrub she adds to chilled, marinated tomatoes just before serving, the fruit acidity balancing the dish. She’ll use a shrub to deglaze a pan and says it also translates well to salad dressings. Because Taiwanese cuisine, says Ran, is not very sour-forward and values sweet, she appreciates having an acid that is not as strong as a rice wine or white vinegar for balance. 

“It's always fun to explore alternative alternatives with citrus,” says Friedman. “And there are so many cool regional vinegars.” Today’s chefs and mixologists are pushing the boundaries of a traditional shrub, using all manner of fruits, vegetables, vinegars, and sweeteners. This versatile, unique syrup has old-world origins, but is perfectly at home in contemporary gastronomy.