Cheong (chi-yong) is a Korean way of preserving fruits and vegetables by making a sweet, flavorful syrup that you suddenly find indispensable. In ancient times various types of cheong were used medicinally, and also as a honey substitutes. Like honey, the flavor and consistency of cheong will vary based on the fruit, berry, flower, stem or root it draws from.
This process is a maceration, where liquid is used to extract molecules from a substrate. In this case the liquid comes from the fruit itself, which is cut and mixed with sugar, which extracts the water from the fruit via osmosis, so the water can then extract more goodness from the fruit. The resulting syrup is a glorious nectar, sweet and floral.
It seems counterintuitive that sugar — a source of biological energy to creatures in many kingdoms of life and possibly the most delicious thing on the planet — is also a highly effective preservative that thwarts the growth of most bacteria, also because of osmosis. Some bacteria, called osmophiles, including yeasts and bacteria found in honey and sweet fruit, can handle the high sugar. Hence, cheong has a lightly fermented, kombucha like flavor.
With this process you can stash the long days of summer into bottles, to be consumed at your earliest convenience, while never again having to stress about a surplus of ripe, seasonal fruit dropped at your doorstep by a well-meaning neighbor.
My current array of cheongs in progress includes blueberry, cherry, mango, ginger, raspberry (frozen from last year’s garden), strawberry rhubarb and rhubarb rose. Each one of these elixirs is intensely floral and fruity in its own way, with a unique complexity and viscosity.
My favorite syrup is rose rhubarb. It is completely intoxicating, making my feeble brain even less able to comprehend how so much flavor could exist in such a small amount of volume. The tiniest drop on the tongue makes the eyes blast wide open. A short pour into my mug converts an afternoon matcha latte into bucket list material.
In the heat of summer, these syrups make dazzling sodas when mixed with bubbly. I like to add mango syrup to the mango smoothie to enhance its mango ness. And sometimes I will use different flavored syrups to to create contrast. The combination of mango, ginger and strawberry rhubarb is exquisite.
Most ripe fruit takes about a week, but you can start pouring little nips from the jar as soon as the sugar starts pulling pourable fluid from the fruit. There will be bubbles, and a mild fermentation gives the eventual flavor a kombucha like edge.
And don’t forget to add your booze of choice to your preferred sweet and fruity cheong. A raspberry margarita makes for glorious afternoon sipping. Combine lemon cheong and Tanqueray, and let the fun be gin. Substitute strawberry rhubarb for cranberry juice, and update the vodka cran. And then there is rum; which pairs with all things fruity and needs no plan.
The original cheong, which I have not tried but is said to be worth the wait, is the 100-day aged green plum or apricot. This weekend at farmers market I will buy huckleberries, and cheong them. I’m looking forward to doing this with service berries, later in the year, which unprocessed taste amazing but have a mealy texture. I’m also curious about dandelions.
One thing I have learned about cheong: It rhymes with can’t go wrong.
Recipe: Cheong
The recipe comes down to mixing equal parts sugar and fruit, by weight. So if you still don’t have a kitchen scale, let this be the reason.
Ingredients:
Fruit
Sugar
Choose your plant material substrate. I often refer to it as “fruit” but of course it could be ginger root, rhubarb stem, rose bud, onion bulb and many other plant parts.
You will also need ungodly amounts of sugar. White sugar will make a lighter and brighter syrup. Cheongs made with darker sugars are said to have more flavor.
Wash the fruit and cut it into small slices or pieces, in order to expose maximum surface area of cut flesh. Blueberries, raspberries and cherries can be crushed. Mangoes peeled and cubed. strawberries and rhubarb sliced, ginger grated, roses left whole. If adding roses or other flowers to fruit, mix the fruit with the sugar first, and add flowers to the jar with your other hand as you add the sugared rhubarb. Create layers as tastefully as possible, even though it will all mix together into a floating lump. Some cheong makers stir it daily, others let it do its thing for a week and then give it a stir. It’s a personal choice. Leave the lids loose, so gas can escape.
After a week, give your cheong its first or seventh stir. Some choose to strain it and refrigerate the clear syrups, looking like beakers in an edible chemistry set. And make jam with what you strain out. Over at https://stellanspice.com, Stella’s lovely post about blueberry cheong ends with making jam by adding lemon to cheong-ed blueberries and using the immersion blender to smooth it out. I would add a little pectin, personally.
Or leave the fruit in the syrup, doling it out as toppings, adding sweet chunks of summer to your granola all winter.