In Praise of Preserves

When I was twelve, my very first piece of English homework when I started "big school" was to write an instructive piece on preparing food. We were reading Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and much of the book describes how Laura and her sisters were shown the homesteading skills necessary for their family's survival in the wilderness of "the Big Woods". I recall the vivid descriptions she gave on how to butcher and cure meat, tap for maple syrup, churn butter and make cheese. I chose to write about pickling onions, as I loved the whole idea of harvesting and preserving food to last all through the winter; it sounded all cosy, and appealed to my love of anything and everything vinegary.

I had completely forgotten about this until yesterday, when I prepared for my annual bout of chutney-making for Christmas. But as I started to collect the ingredients together I remembered that warm, cosy feeling I got from reading that book, and realised that every year I replicate this when I make my enormous vat of Christmas Chutney for friends and family. I unconsciously fulfil a deep-seated desire to nourish and bolster those I love.

I first made my Christmas Chutney when I was twenty. It's a Delia recipe, from her Classic Christmas Collection, and every year since I was twelve - the same year I read Little House actually - my mum, sister and I have watched the accompanying TV programme. We know it practically word for word, and have attempted several of the recipes over the years, but for some reason only the chutney has stuck (and I don't just mean all over my kitchen surfaces and hob top). I wanted to make some to give as Christmas presents, and it was a resounding success. So much so that I got requests to make it every year.

One year however I really couldn't be bothered: it was quite a faff to chop kilos of dried fruits and onions by hand, plus it was impossible to prevent the pungent aroma of the molten chutney from pervading every room in the house as it bubbled away for two hours. But my family were aghast! The following year my stepdad bribed me with treated me to a proper catering-sized preserving pan and I got a Moulinex food processor for my birthday, so I then knew there would be no turning back! This will be my 18th year of chutney-making. Thankfully it's grown to become less of a task that I sometimes felt saddled with in the past and more of a Christmas tradition, one performed cheerily and with immense love.

There is something hugely satisfying in bottling something you have made from scratch. You get a little production line going, lining the jars up before ladling the thick, warm, fruity mass into the funnel where it slowly plops down to fill the jar. Then out come the little wax paper discs, which are methodically trimmed down as necessary before being lain over the sticky goodness, sealing it within. Lids are screwed down tightly, and a couple of hours later you hear the 'Pop!' as their push-buttons get sucked into the vacuum created as it all cools. And it's only then that I think "Ah yes, a job well done."

My weeny little Kilner jars; ain't they beautiful?

So here I'm going to share with you how I make this yummy concoction. Delia has named it Christmas Chutney due to the inclusion of lots of dates, prunes and dried apricots as well as a large quantity of allspice berries. You are probably familiar with ground allspice, and would most definitely recognise the cinnamony, clovey, nutmeggy aroma it has. Some people think that allspice is just that; a mixture of 'all spices' (or certainly the three I've specified above). But it's actually just one berry, the allspice berry. 

Now, in all the years I've been making this I have NEVER managed to locate said berries in a supermarket. And believe me I've tried dozens. Delia's book was first published in 1989, long before the bounteous wonder that is online shopping came into our everyday existence, and when I first made it I couldn't lay hands on them for love nor money. So I just used ground allspice instead, and this seems to work just fine. Of course these days I could easily buy some online, but I'd be worried that it wouldn't taste the same so I stick with the ground.

I'm not going to provide an ingredients list here because:

1. I'm not entirely sure what the cyber-rules for posting someone else's recipes online are. Will I get a slap on the wrist or, horror of horrors, will I upset or offend my beloved Delia? We've all seen her when she's had a few, she looks like she could get quite aggressive if provoked.

2. It's late at night and I can't quite be bothered. 

Fear not! I provide below a link to Delia's original recipe in full:

http://www.deliaonline.com/recipes/type-of-dish/chutney/christmas-chutney.html

Here are the raw ingredients for making approximately 4 litres of chutney:

When it comes to chutney, I know my onions.

Due to the time of year, I always seem to encounter problems in procuring the exact quantities of a particular dried fruit; I'm always missing 250g of apricots or 500g of prunes because Sainsbury's entire stock has already been bought to make mincemeat, Christmas cakes and puddings. So I just use what I can get my hands on, and make sure I have the ratio of fruit to onion the same.

The original recipe makes 1 litre, but I triple the quantities in order to make enough to sustain my loved ones throughout the year. (I know it says 4 litres above, but when you make preserves in this sort of quantity there doesn't appear to be as much evaporation required in order to achieve the correct consistency, hence three times the ingredients gives you four times the finished product. Bonus!)

Thank God I now have one of these! Can you imagine chopping all that lot by hand?!

First task is to process all the fruits and onions. I always do the onions first, because the dried fruit can get rather sticky when it's being chopped at high speed, and it coats and clings messily to the inside of the mixing bowl. So messy stuff always goes last. 

You'd get more than your 5-a-day from this lot!

Once I've put all of these to one side (and again, the volume I make is so enormous I just dump it all into my massive Jamie Oliver serving dish and keep this on the kitchen table because there's not enough space on the counter), I pour cider vinegar into my enormous preserving pan, along with fresh grated ginger, sea salt and a jar of ground allspice. 

I am never one to under-season a dish, and so I always pop a teaspoon of whole cloves and a couple of cinnamon sticks into an old (clean!) pop-sock, tie it securely and throw that into the pan too. Then I grate half a nutmeg on top of everything and whack the heat up.

Mmmm... pop-socky goodness

Once the vinegar has come to a boil (and it's at this point I make sure the kitchen door is firmly shut and windows are open, to avoid the acrid aroma from wafting into the rest of the house),  I add the chopped onions and fruit, and a vast amount of demerara sugar, then give it all a thorough stir with a rubber spatula. 

Raw chutney - not so tasty. Do not try at this point.

Once all that delicious demerara sugar has dissolved in the warm vinegar, it turns beautifully viscous and suspends all the pieces of fruit, onion and spices in an aromatic, rich conker-brown gloop (see below). I must admit, at this point I do like to try a wee spoonful. It tastes like hot Branston pickle at this stage, which is tasty as it goes but, as I say, I am rather a pickly girl, and what's not to love about a molten vat of sugar, vinegar, sweet, sticky fruit, onions and spices? Hell, it's virtually a jointed bird away from sweet 'n' sour chicken!

If only I could invent a scratch-and-sniff screen...

Then you turn the heat right down to its lowest possible setting and keep it on the gentlest of simmers for a good two-and-a-half to three hours, stirring now and then to make sure it doesn't catch on the bottom of the pan. 

I am always amazed by the alchemy of cooking. 'Tis truly magical.

When you can draw a wooden spoon across the surface, and the channel it creates doesn't fill up with liquid, your chutney is done! Here you can see how much liquid has evaporated by that rather lovely tidemark around the edge of the pan. It's now so thick you can stand your wooden spoon up in it, and thus full of mouth-wateringly concentrated flavours. 

And so, it all boils down to this.

I then leave it to cool for a good half-an-hour, usually longer, because the quantity I make is so vast, before dealing with the jarring and sealing. It's vital to sterilise all your jars, lids, and preferably the funnel you're using too; I accomplish this by running everything in a hot wash in the dishwasher, then placing it all in a low oven (120℃ or thereabouts) for five minutes. Make sure you use a clean tea towel or oven glove to remove everything from the oven too, otherwise you'll undo all your sterilising efforts and will have to start again. 

Ladly, ladly-ho. Or summat.

As soon as all your jars have been filled to the brim, smooth a wax disc carefully over the surface, ensuring no air bubbles are trapped beneath it.  Then screw the lids on tightly, and place your bounty somewhere cool and dark. I put mine in a covered box in the garage, that's perfect. They need to be stored as they have to mature for one month before eating, if you can keep your hands off for that long. This Christmas Chutney is perfect with all cold cuts, sausages, or just some good bread and a whopping lump of cheese. Enjoy!

All labelled and with their Christmas hats on. Don't they look smart?