
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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Green walnuts picked in midsummer and turned, slowly and patiently, into the inky, spiced jewels that belong on a winter cheeseboard beside a wedge of strong cheddar and a glass of port.
This is a June job. The whole thing turns on it. Green walnuts have to be picked before the shell hardens inside, which gives you a window of about a fortnight in early summer and not a day longer. Push a needle through one. If it goes through cleanly, you're in time. If it doesn't, you've missed it for the year and there's nothing to be done except mark the calendar for next June.
I walk past a walnut tree on my way to the market. Most of the year I don't think about it, but in early June I start watching. The nuts come on like green plums, fuzzy and soft, and there's a brief moment when they're exactly right. I pick a kilogram, no more, because that's all the brining bucket will hold, and because pickled walnuts are not something you eat by the handful. They're for cheese in November. They're for cold ham at Boxing Day lunch. A small jar lasts a long time.
The process is unhurried and a bit alchemical. Two weeks in salt water to draw out the bitterness. A day in the sun to blacken. Then a hot bath of spiced malt vinegar and dark sugar, and into the cupboard for two months at the very least. There's no shortcut. A pickled walnut hurried is a pickled walnut wasted.
I wrote the dates in the notebook the first year I made these: "Picked 18 June. Jarred 4 July. Open 4 September." I still write them down every time. There's something satisfying about a recipe that asks you to think six months ahead, to set something aside for a self you haven't met yet, the one who'll be standing at the cheese cupboard on a dark evening looking for something to make the cheddar sing.
Quantity
1kg
picked in June before the shell hardens
Quantity
500g, plus more for the second brine
Quantity
to cover
Quantity
1 litre
Quantity
300g
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
10
Quantity
2
Quantity
a thumb
sliced
Quantity
1
broken in half
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| green walnutspicked in June before the shell hardens | 1kg |
| fine sea salt | 500g, plus more for the second brine |
| cold water | to cover |
| good malt vinegar | 1 litre |
| dark muscovado sugar | 300g |
| black peppercorns | 2 tablespoons |
| whole allspice berries | 1 tablespoon |
| yellow mustard seeds | 1 tablespoon |
| whole cloves | 10 |
| dried bay leaves | 2 |
| fresh gingersliced | a thumb |
| cinnamon stickbroken in half | 1 |
Pick the walnuts in mid to late June, before St Swithin's Day if you can manage it. Push a darning needle through one. If it slides through cleanly, shell and all, they're ready. If it meets any resistance in the middle, you're already too late and the shell is forming. There's no negotiating this. The window is about a fortnight in early summer and then it's gone for the year.
Prick each walnut deeply, half a dozen times or more, with a long needle or a thin skewer. The juice will run dark and sticky. This is the bitter tannin that you're about to brine out, and the holes give it somewhere to go. Don't rush this. A walnut that hasn't been properly pricked will stay bitter no matter how long you brine it.
Dissolve 250g of the salt in enough cold water to cover the walnuts generously. A large ceramic crock or a deep plastic bucket is what you want, nothing metal. Tip the walnuts in, weight them down with a plate so they stay submerged, and leave them somewhere cool for a week. Stir them once a day with a wooden spoon. The brine will turn the colour of strong tea.
After a week, drain the walnuts and discard the dark brine. Make a fresh batch with the remaining salt and cold water, return the walnuts to it, and weight them down again. Another week. Same routine, a stir once a day. By the end, the bitterness will have leached out and the walnuts will be ready to take on the spice.
Drain the walnuts and spread them out in a single layer on a tray lined with paper. Leave them somewhere bright and airy, ideally in direct sunlight, for a day or two. They will turn from green-brown to deep, glossy black as they oxidise. This is the moment that makes pickled walnuts what they are. Turn them once or twice so they blacken evenly.
Pour the vinegar into a stainless steel pan and add the muscovado sugar, peppercorns, allspice, mustard seeds, cloves, bay, ginger and cinnamon. Bring it slowly to the boil, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. The kitchen will smell of Christmas cake and a Victorian larder all at once. Let it bubble gently for ten minutes, then take it off the heat.
Pack the blackened walnuts into clean, sterilised jars, not too tightly. Pour the hot spiced vinegar over them, spices and all, making sure the walnuts are completely covered. Tap the jars gently on the counter to release any trapped air. Seal with vinegar-proof lids, the kind with a plastic coating, never bare metal.
This is the hard part. Put the jars in a cool, dark cupboard and forget about them for at least two months. Three is better. Six is better still. The walnuts need time to soften, to drink in the spice, to lose their last sharp edges and become the deep, savoury, almost meaty thing they're meant to be. Open the first jar in October or November, when the cheeseboard starts to feel like the point of dinner.
1 serving (about 30g)
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