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As a North Carolinian, I use and consume vinegar in such quantities that I ought to have it on tap. I suspect vinegar runs in my blood, and I’m confident it runs in my bloodline as my grandmother introduced me to its power around the house, especially in the kitchen. This magical elixir sharpens and whets all manner of delicious things we crave. Vinegar is an essential condiment on the Southern table, right there with salt and pepper as a culinary cure-all. As soon as we twist off the lid or pull out the stopper, we catch a whiff of the promise of aromatic tang even before we taste it.

Vinegar is the unsung backup singer that ensures the headliner dish can stay on key and play sold-out shows year after year. I cannot imagine tucking into a mess of bitter greens without adding a little vinegar, maybe from one of those shaker bottles in which tiny hot peppers swirl in a slow orbit, a tabletop certainty in places where the cook understands how much we Southerners like to doctor our own plates. (Bonus points if the pepper vinegar is homemade and served in a repurposed catsup or liquor bottle.) Think of the redemptive power of vinegary hot sauce, a potent dressing that can salvage a bland dish and elevate good food to heavenly.

North Carolina barbecue demands vinegar, a little or a whole lot, as does much of the slaw that comes with it. I suspect that in addition to mopping it on, some pitmasters dab vinegar behind the ears of a whole hog while the smoldering magic happens, and perhaps behind their own.

Vinegar, herbs, and seasonings transform North Carolina cucumbers into pickled perfection. photograph by © Darren Muir/Stocksy United

Each time we spear and spoon things out of pickle and relish jars, we should lift up a little amen to vinegar for being the source of sass, soul, and longevity in our put-ups and preserves. Vinegar’s role in food preservation is how we came to rely on it.

Homesteaders often planted apple trees to feed their families and animals. Apples yield cider, an alcoholic beverage that was safe to drink when there was no clean water. Vinegars can be fermented from almost anything alcoholic, which means a household could transform cider into vinegar, which enabled them to preserve fresh fruits and vegetables to eat year-round. Humble cider vinegar could be the difference between their survival and starvation.

Vinegars — and there are dozens of distinct varieties — get their sharpness and acidity from fermentation, which means they’re not just good to taste, they’re believed to be good for us, too. They give us guts. My beloved grandmother dosed herself with a spoonful of vinegar after supper, as though it were a digestif, commenting that “It just closes things down.” How I wish she were here so that we could sample my new crush, a sweetened drinking vinegar called shrub, which is a very old idea that’s come back around as part of the fermented beverage craze that includes kombucha and fire cider. I love how a good glug of shrub syrup stirred into sparkling water jumps in bright and pungent, but lands softly in the fragrant sweetness of ripe fruit, like sugar dissolving in strong brewed tea. Water into wine into vinegar into water, a miracle come full circle.

photograph by Tim Robison

Cold-Press Shrub Syrup

Shrub is a syrup made from vinegar, sugar, and ripe fruit. When diluted with water, preferably carbonated, you get a refreshing sweet-tart treat. Think of shrub as a cousin to homemade lemonade. When we consider that fresh lemon juice, like vinegar, is too tart and acidic to drink solo, yet delightful when sweetened and swirled into cold water, it’s easy to envision an enjoyable vinegar-based beverage.

Shrub recipes have been around for generations. They were originally a way to preserve just-picked berries and stone fruit that surged into ripeness in warm months. Shrubs began popping up again in recent years as part of the craft cocktail movement and the renaissance of fermented foods touted for their health benefits.

There are cooked shrub syrups, but this cold-press method is quick and easy. It also protects the pure, bright fruit flavor. Make sure the fruit is dead-ripe. You’ll discover your preferred ratio of shrub to water as you experiment with them, but 1 part shrub to 3 parts seltzer is a good starting point.

Yield: Makes about 1½ cups.

1 cup crushed berries or finely chopped stone fruit, such as peaches, plums, or cherries
1 cup granulated cane sugar
1 cup apple cider vinegar, red wine vinegar, or fruit vinegar (not distilled white vinegar)

In a glass bowl, stir together the fruit and sugar. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least overnight or up to 48 hours, stirring occasionally to help dissolve the sugar.

Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean bowl, pressing gently on the solids to remove as much liquid as possible without forcing fruit pulp through the strainer. Scrape any undissolved sugar into the strained juice. Stir in vinegar. Transfer to a clean bottle or jar with a tight-fitting lid. Discard strained solids or eat them as a cook’s treat.

Refrigerate covered for at least 3 days before serving, shaking gently from time to time. Sometimes a little sugar will settle to the bottom, although eventually, the acidity of the vinegar will dissolve it. New shrub is pungent and quite tart, but the flavor mellows and harmonizes over time. Shrub syrup can keep for up to one year.