
Chef Thomas
Apple Chutney
A spiced autumn chutney made from a glut of apples and a quiet afternoon, simmered down until the kitchen smells of October and the jars line up on the counter like a small, useful insurance policy.
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Crimson beetroot in spiced vinegar, packed into jars on a Saturday afternoon and waiting in the cupboard for the cold meats and sharp cheeses of the months ahead.
October. The beetroot at the market are pulled from the ground that morning, still wearing their soil and their long ragged tops. I bought too many, as I always do, and walked home with my fingers smelling faintly of earth.
This is the moment for pickling. Beetroot are at their best in autumn, dense and sweet and the colour of something serious. They keep, of course. They'll sit in a cool cupboard for weeks. But the best of them go into jars, where they'll last through the winter and stain everything they meet a deep, unrepentant crimson. There's a kind of quiet satisfaction in lining them up on the shelf and knowing they're there.
I eat pickled beetroot with cold ham and a hunk of strong cheddar and bread that doesn't need anything else. I eat them on Boxing Day with the leftover everything. I eat them in February when the kitchen is grey and I need a reminder that there were bright things once. A jar of these is a small insurance policy against a long winter.
The method is barely a method. Cook the beetroot. Make a spiced vinegar. Slice, pack, pour, wait. We're only making dinner, except this time we're making it for a version of ourselves a few weeks from now. I wrote it down in the notebook: beetroot, spice, patience.
Quantity
1kg
small to medium, stalks trimmed to 2cm, root left on
Quantity
600ml
Quantity
200ml
Quantity
200g
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
2 teaspoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
6
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 small
Quantity
1 teaspoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| beetrootsmall to medium, stalks trimmed to 2cm, root left on | 1kg |
| malt vinegar | 600ml |
| cider vinegar | 200ml |
| golden caster sugar | 200g |
| flaky sea salt | 1 tablespoon |
| black peppercorns | 2 teaspoons |
| whole allspice berries | 1 teaspoon |
| whole cloves | 6 |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| cinnamon stick | 1 small |
| yellow mustard seeds | 1 teaspoon |
Wash the beetroot under cold water, scrubbing away any clinging soil but being careful not to break the skin. Leave the root tail on and a thumb-length of stalk at the top. This is the trick to keeping the colour where you want it. Put them in a large pan, cover with cold water, add a generous pinch of salt, and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook until a knife slides in with no resistance. Small beetroot might take thirty minutes, larger ones closer to an hour. The skins should rub away under your thumbs when they're ready.
While the beetroot cooks, wash three medium jars and their lids in hot soapy water, rinse well, and set them upside down on a baking tray in a low oven, around 120C, for fifteen minutes. They need to be properly hot when the vinegar goes in. Cold jars and hot vinegar are a recipe for cracked glass and a wasted afternoon.
Pour both vinegars into a non-reactive saucepan. Stainless steel is fine. Aluminium is not. Add the sugar, salt, peppercorns, allspice, cloves, bay, cinnamon, and mustard seeds. Bring it slowly to a simmer, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Let it bubble gently for five minutes. Your kitchen will smell sharp and warming and slightly Christmas-like. That's exactly right. Take it off the heat and let the spices steep while the beetroot cools.
When the beetroot are cool enough to handle but still warm, rub the skins off under cold running water. They should slip away easily. Wear an apron unless you want to spend the rest of the day looking like you've been in a fight. Top and tail them, then slice into rounds about half a centimetre thick. Not too thin. You want some bite left in them after they've sat in the vinegar.
Pack the beetroot slices into the warm jars, layering them in tightly without crushing. Slip a bay leaf down the side of one or two of the jars if you've got a few extra. Strain the spiced vinegar through a sieve, then pour it over the beetroot until they're completely submerged. Tap the jars gently on the worktop to release any trapped air. Seal while everything is still warm.
This is the part nobody wants to hear. Put the jars in a cool, dark cupboard and leave them for at least a week before opening. Two weeks is better. The beetroot needs time to take on the spice and the sweetness, to soften slightly without going limp, to become the thing you actually want it to be. Good food rewards patience. Pickled beetroot rewards it more than most.
1 serving (about 50g)
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