As child labour goes, it's hardly like being shoved up a chimney. But in between hurling snowballs and apparently competing to make the most lopsided, physically handicapped snowman, my children were put to work in the fields yesterday.
We might be approaching the "hungry gap", the early spring months when nothing much edible grows, but this week most of us have been surrounded by one of nature's most bountiful fruits: snow. Before the great thaw begins, it's time to get harvesting.
The savvy gastronome will already have plenty of recipes for snow – marshmallow snowmen, snow biscuits and, of course, snow ice-cream. And if bars serve snowballs, why not make a real snow cocktail?
But all of this is merely icing on the cake. The real use for snow is as naturally filtered and chilled drinking water. We profess to be green and recycle everything from cars to cornflake packets, yet are only too delighted to watch huge quantities of the cold stuff melt. Why? Many experts believe it is far purer than water from tap or bottle; it is readily available; and it's free.
Just as mineral water became an 80s status symbol, in America swish restaurants are already serving rainwater, as it said to be softer than tap, while fashionistas sip bottles of the stuff. In Britain, too, a small but growing band of eco-worriers is buying the kit – cost: £400 – that is required to collect enough drizzle, hail and snowflakes to keep a household in water. After all, no matter how squeezed we are for liquid cash, rain is one commodity we Brits will never lack. Hey, Manchester could make an industry out of the stuff.
But is it actually good for you? The latest issue of Psychologies magazine – the women's wellbeing magazine that, according to the tagline, helps you "make sense of your world" – reports that rainwater's "slightly acidic chemistry may assist kidney function and remove toxins, alleviating arthritis and gallstones". It also suggests it can protect us from stomach upsets, citing a University of Western Australia study that found children who drank rainwater were less likely to contract gastroenteritis.
However, the magazine also recommends you catch rainwater and run it through an ultraviolet light filter that kills bacteria. "There are relatively simple technologies that render rainwater safe for all domestic usage, including drinking," says Professor Tim Burt of Durham University.
All this should come with a health warning. The internet buzzes with scare stories about how snow can contain "deadly bacteria from outer-space" as the frozen state of snow apparently shuts down water's ability to break down impurities, though the journal Science pours, well, cold water on this by suggesting you would need to consume vast quantities to endanger health. Similarly, it could find no clinically verifiable reports of anyone growing ill from munching snow.
Oh, but I should pass on a warning of my own. The snow you use must come pure as the driven proverbial. That is not always guaranteed, as I discovered yesterday when I stepped outside to judge the Chiddingstone Snowman of the Year Awards, known in our back garden as Snow Idol. I got, smack in the chops, a giant snowball that had – how can I convey this delicately – already run up against our spaniel's own filtering technique.
Later, using snow gathered from a spaniel-free zone, we tucked into our harvest supper. When Emilia, 7, and Freddie, 4, were told they were about to try snow ice-cream – scoops of fresh white stuff flavoured with cinnamon, lavender and honey – there were few of the usual chants of "I scream/ You scream/ We all scream for ice cream". Indeed, the early verdict was "yuck". But this soon changed to a qualified "yum" upon tasting.
Daddy, meanwhile, slurped a well-earned cup of tea, having filled the kettle with snow. This, I confess, just tasted tea-like, though it can surely only be time before you can buy a rosehip and snow infusion.
Daddy was more impressed by the snow cocktail he tried courtesy of Salvatore Calabrese, the legendary bartender at the Fifty club in St James. As I finally began to feel my feet again by the fire, a European Snowball – Calabrese's unlikely concoction of gin, Limoncello, pastis, almond syrup and double cream blended with snowballs compacted to the size of golf balls – slipped down as smoothly as the snowflakes outside. Hmm: I'm dreaming of a white June…
How to make a snow cocktail
For a European Snowball, you'll need:
4 cl gin
2cl limoncello
1cl pastis
1.5cl orgeat (almond syrup)
2cl double cream
Collect top snow and make five lumps the size of a golf balls. Squeeze excess water then put in blender with the other ingredients for five seconds, strain and pour in cocktail glass with a sprig of mint.
Recipe by Salvatore Calabrese, head bartender at Fifty (50 St James's Street, London SW1. 0870 415 5050, www.fiftylondon.com)
But as we say in Toronto, "don't eat the yellow snow!"
Don't eat the yellow snow!
What a load of old snowballs. Have you never heard of acid rain? What do you think happens to the toxins from our industrial polution when it goes up in smoke? And as for putting snow in the kettle, what sort of moron thinks it environmentally friendly to waste all the energy required to melt the stuff to get it into the same physical state (ie liquid) as rain or even the stuff that readily flows out of the tap.