Mango & Orange Curd

Now that our 3 little chickens have settled in and regrown all the feathers (and a fair bit of - ahem - insulation), they've started popping out eggs like feathery little pez dispensers! We get two eggs a day, occasionally three (and one time after they escaped and ate the neighbours petunias we were surprised to get four!). Life BC (Before Chickens) was one of limited eggs, usually bought from the woman up the road who keeps chickens & geese free range in her garden & sells her excess eggs. Now I have a dozen or so eggs a week. They get given to friends and family, but still, it's a lot of frittatas! So I've discovered the delights of curd!

When I was a cub, lemon curd meant one thing - watching in mild bemusement as my Mum stomped around the kitchen whipping up lemon curd (as well as strawberry jam, shortbread and Victoria sponge cake) for the WI Country Show in the hopes of winning the coveted trophy. Lacking any kind of competitive streak, I could never understand the appeal of baking for trophies (or, in my Mums case, So-Pat-Down-The-Road-Doesn't-Win-It), but nevertheless whisked eggs and creamed butter, and dodged any flying cutlery.

Curd is an intensely flavoured spread made with a decadent mix of butter, eggs & sugar. Such indulgent fair needs citrus to curb its enthusiasm, so lemon, lime, orange and even raspberry are added. But it was still always a little too rich for my tastes. But I was in my local Asian grocers and saw a box of Alphonso mangoes... hmm.

Alphonso mangoes, named after Afonso de Alberquerque*, the 16th Century Portuguese military commander and Muslim-botherer (known as The Lion Of The Sea. If you take a moment to think about a Lion in the sea, and how pissed off he might be about it, you're halfway there. Bearded, damp & psychotic comes to mind.) are not the sort of thing you'll find in your local Tesco. It has a short season, late April to June, and is grown in Western India. It comes either individually wrapped in tissue paper or in a cardboard box of 4 or 6. Alphonso aren't cheap, but they are worth it! Sunny yellow skin covering buttery, honey-sweet saffron coloured flesh (and don't I get all poetical when it comes to fruit!). I usually just buy one or two with every intention of making something delicious with them, but they end up being gulped down, furtive & messily, over the sink. This time I bought a box of six. Two to gulp down like the gluttonous little fox I am, two to make into mango sorbet and two to make into curd. And what a delicious curd they made!

If you have a temperamental hob, make this in a double boiler (or bowl over a pan of simmering water). If you trust your hob, make it in a heavy bottomed pan. For best results you'll need a sugar thermometer which, double boiler or not, will help avoid the dreaded curdling.
If mangoes aren't your thing (and may the Cephalopod Horrors from Beyond preserve you, you poor soul) 450g of any fruit puree you can think of should work too. I've made this recipe with apple & lemon (which was softly sweet and soothing, like a fluffy yellow blanket) & Pineapple & lemon (a sharp, sweet, tangy curd, I think I'll replace the lemon with grapefruit next time). I plan on making guava & lime & banana & lemon soon too. Play with the recipe & make it your own, just remember it needs the citrus element to balance out the sweet richness.

Mango & Orange Curd
2-3 Alphonso mangoes (or two regular ones)
Juice & zest of 2 oranges (or 100ml orange juice)
125g butter
400g sugar
4-5 large eggs, beaten

Cut open the mangoes & scoop the flesh into a blender. Give the stones & skin a good hard squeeze to get as much of that lovely flesh & juice out. Add the orange juice & zest & wizz to a puree.
But the butter, sugar & mango pulp into a large pan over a low heat. Whisk until the butter & sugar have melted. You'll need the sugar thermometer at this point. Make sure the buttery mangoness is no hotter than 55°C, 60°C at the most. Any hotter and your eggs will scramble. And it will be a sad day, a day of mourning. Dogs will howl at you in the street, for They Will Know. Pour the eggs through a sieve into the pan (the sieve is to catch any of the stringy white bits that wont blend into the curd and make it look a bit unsettling. You can wizz the eggs in a blender, since its already had mango in it, instead) and whisk thoroughly. If it looks like it's starting to split, remove from the heat and whisk madly until smooth.
Keep the pan on a gentle heat, giving it a whisk and scraping down the sides every minute or two. After ten minutes or so, it will start to turn thick & creamy. Don't rush this stage, and keep an eye on the sugar thermometer, which should read 82-84°C when its ready.
Pour into warm, sterilised jars & seal.
Use within 4 weeks, and once opened store in the fridge.

Serve on toast, spread on warm bread, spoon into yoghurt, spread onto sponge cakes, blob on the top of muffins, add to pastries, stir into cake mix, use it as an excuse to make meringue pie, swirl into ice cream and always, always lick the spoon!

*Hot dog, jumping frog...

Passata, Pussycat! Kilner! Kilner!

We've had a good year for tomatoes this year, and Tomato Mile has lived up to it's name - it's been endless! More than MikeyFox could possibly eat while bimbling around the garden or make into salsa. So I've spent the last couple of months making passata (a lot of passata. Next year I'm getting a passata mill, instead of spending endless hours pushing it all through my 50p Wilkinsons nylon sieve. After 6 or 7 litres the brain starts to rumble off in strange directions). Passata will keep for a couple of days in the fridge and there are lots of uses for it, like ketchup or pasta sauce. But if you've got a lot of tomatoes, you'll end up with more passata than you can really use over such a short period. You can pour it into lidded containers & stash away in the freezer, but with a bit of effort, you can further process passata or roasted tomatoes & store it in the cupboard for months (I do keep a lot of passata in the freezer, but that does mean having to plan when to use it a day or two in advance, to give it defrosting time). So it seemed like a good time to get myself some kilner jars & learn how to do some serious preserving.

Kilner jars are rubber sealed screw-top glass jars first made by the Kilner family in Yorkshire. The real trick to them is their two-part lid - a metal screw band & separate rubber-bottomed metal lid. This ingenious little system means that air can escape when processing, but not get in (bringing its friends bacteria & micro-organisms). You can process all sorts of fruits in syrup or brine using kilner jars, but vegetables are a bit more complicated. The biggest concern when dealing with tomatoes is the dread botulism, but if you're careful with keeping things sterile & clean, you shouldn't have anything to worry about. Acid prevents botulism spores from developing, so adding a tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar (red wine or balsamic really brings out the flavour of tomatoes) should solve any problems. Bringing the passata to the boil for 10 minutes when using will also kill off anything nasty (and, of course, not eating anything from a jar that is bubbling or fermenting, turned a funny colour, gone mouldy or is attempting to communicate with you is also a smart move).
There are two methods of preserving in kilner jars - the Water Bath method & the Oven Method. Both methods need clean, sterilised jars (and work with screw top & clip top jars) filled with hot passata leaving a 2cm gap at the top, but you already know that.

The Water Bath is the most common method. For this you need a pan deep enough to keep your jars completely submerged, a large preserving pan works well. You'll also need a thermometer. Place a folded tea towel on the base to protect the jars from the direct heat(they will crack otherwise). Fill the jars with hot passata (about 60C) and srew on the lids, loosening by a quarter-turn (to give steam a chance to escape). Place the jars in the pan & cover with warm water. Slowly bring to a simmer (I mean slowly. Take about 20-30 minutes over it. You don't want a pan of watery tomato & glass shard soup) & simmer at 88C for 40 minutes. Remove from the heat & stand on a wooden board or folded towel, tighten up the screw bands & leave to cool overnight. In the morning check the seal (the dimple in the top of the jar should have depressed, and alarmed you at some point in the evening with a loud pop!). If there is no seal, either use up immediately or process again.

Te Oven Method takes longer, and can get a bit messy, as the passata will bubble & spit while its in the oven, but doesn't require a big preserving pan. Preheat the oven to 150C/300F/G2. Fill the jars & place on a thick pad of newspaper, or a folded tea towel in a baking tray filled with 3cm of water (to disperse the heat, and prevent any distressing breakages. Place the jar lids on top, but don't fasten with screw bands. Leave in the oven for 60 minutes, then carefully remove, clean off any tomato that has escaped & put on the screw bands tightly. Leave to cool overnight & check the seal. Store in a cool, dark place (i.e. a cupboard) for up to a year.

Yellow passata! Eeeee!

Fruit Cheese

When I say fruit cheese I don't mean wedges of wensleydale with nuggets of dried cranberries or apricots in them, I mean fruit puree cooked until it's a solid, sliceable preserve. The most famous example is dulce de membrillo, a delectable Spanish quince paste & the Brazilian goiabada, guava cheese, which is possibly the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.

Fruit cheese isn't the easiest thing to make, but it is very satisfying. And you can still make it if you don't have quince or guava available (my quince tree produced 4 fruits this year, so it'll be a couple more years before I'm making my own membrillo). Damsons, plums, pears & apples (especially when combined with blueberries or cranberries) all make delicious cheeses too.
Since the cheese will set firm, you can use it in a variety of ways. The simplest is to pour it into heatproof containers, shallow trays, moulds or ramekins & leave to set. Get creative with your moulds, as long as it's heatproof, and you brush it with vegetable oil or glycerine to stop things from sticking, pretty much anything will work. I like to use soap moulds (they come in lovely shapes & are a nice size too), loaf tins & even ravioli moulds (which make adorable little fruit pastilles)

But before I get to the recipe, a few things to warn you about.
This is a recipe that you can't wander off & leave to it's own devices for half an hour. It'll burn the minute your back is turned. It will also spit like Chantico* on a bad day, so wear long sleeves or wrap your arm with a tea towel for the last half hour of cooking. And for the love of all things good get the longest wooden spoon you can. And tie it to the end of a broom or something. 'Luckily' I have a long history of self-harm, feral cats & weeding without gloves on, so am fairly impervious to burns, boils, cuts and furry things gnawing at me, but I don't encourage others to try it. Be careful, and put a dab of lavender oil on any burns. Okay, health warning over!

Plum Cheese

1kg plums
500g-700g sugar

Place the plums, skin, stones & all in a large pan. Just cover with water & bring to a simmer. Cook until soft & mushy. Leave to cool. Rub the plum mush through a nylon sieve (or a mooli if you're fancypants enough to have one). Weigh the pulp & return it to the pan, adding an equal amount of sugar (it will look like instant diabetes, but trust me, it'll be fine). Bring slowly to the boil, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Simmer for an hour or more, maybe even 2 hours depending on how juicy the plums were, until the mixture is thick & glossy. And when I say thick, I mean seriously thick. There will be a moment of yeah, that's pretty thick, and then it will suddenly be thick. You'll not only be able to scrape the spoon across the bottom of the pan & leave a line, it'll take a few seconds for the mix to realise what's happened, and then slump back together. Scrape into whatever vessels you're using (and make sure they're heatproof. This stuff will melt thin plastic & clingfilm) & either cover with greaseproof paper, or if you're feeling fancy, spoon into greased moulds & top with food grade paraffin wax. The cheese will keep for a year (it's mostly sugar after all)

As for what to do with it, well the world is your fried mock oyster. You can serve it in slices with cheese, cut into cubes, or if you have teeny tiny cookie cutters cut it into pretty shapes & roll in sugar to make fruit pastilles. You can chop into chunks & add to tagines, bread & butter pudding, fruit crumble or rice pudding too.

*What do you mean who? Chantico is the Aztec goddess of fires & volcanoes. She has a bit of a temper.

Ketchup!

8 days of blogging? This must be some sort of record! After a week of chutneys & relishes, here's something a bit different. Well not that different, as it's still preserving. Today it's all about ketchup!
Ketchup has been around since the 1690's, but was very different to the red gloop we're so fond of today. It was made in China out of pickled fish & known as kê-tsiap (meaning 'carp juice'. Yum). The sauce made its way to Malaysia where it was known as kechap & by 1740 British explorers had cottoned on to it, and started calling it ketchup. It wasn't until the early 1800's that it was made with tomatoes (and a lot of salt). Prior to that, most ketchups were made with mushrooms, oysters or walnuts, and were similar to soy sauce in consistency.

I know it seems a bit odd to make something yourself that is so cheap & readily available, but I love making my own ketchup. It's not just that I like making it out of yellow or green tomatoes & alarming friends & relatives with weird coloured ketchup (okay, so maybe it's a little bit of that) but the flavour is so much better than shop bought ketchup, and you can really mess around with your ingredients. I like to make a spicy red tomato ketchup with Mexican flavourings like cumin, oregano & a few minced up pickled chipotle chillis. Yellow tomato ketchup gets yellow mustard powder & ground ginger. So do whatever flavours you like.

The basic tomato ketchup recipe requires 1 litre of passata. My favourite way of making passata is to roast around 2kg of tomatoes, halved & arranged in a tray with whatever herbs you fancy (oregano or rosemary work well) in the oven at 180C until softened. Leave to cool & rub through a nylon sieve with a wooden spoon to get rid of all the seeds & skins. You should end up with about 1 litre of the tastiest pasta sauce you'll ever eat.

If you don't have a glut of tomatoes to use, you can still make ketchup with other fruits. Tomatillos make excellent ketchup (replace the lemon juice with lime & add a couple of green chillis for a spicy kick), as does rhubarb (2kg of rhubarb baked in the oven until tender & pushed through a sieve will make enough puree for this recipe, though I'd recommend leaving out the lemon juice as rhubarb is pretty tart). Elderberries, pineapple, mango, plums, bananas & gooseberries all make delicious ketchups too.

Ketchup

1 litre of passata
100ml red wine vinegar (or white wine vinegar if using yellow or green tomatoes)
100g sugar (or you can use honey)
juice of 2 lemons (about 50ml)2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp salt1 tsp oregano1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp black pepper

Put all the ingredients into a pan & bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring regularly, until the sauce reaches & thick but pourable consistency (remember it will get a little thicker when cool). Pour into sterilised bottles & seal tightly. It sounds like an odd thing to do, but turn the bottles upside down & leave to stand for a few minutes (this is to sterilise the tops of the bottles & give them a longer shelf life). Use within 6 months & store in the fridge once opened.

Curried Vegetable Relish

It's definitely autumn here in the flatlands. There's a chill in the air, and I'm starting to ogle shawl patterns on Ravelry*. There's also the frantic rush to get veg from the garden harvested, processed & tucked away safely for winter. Yeah, that's a bit of a clue.
So along with roasting tomatoes & tomatillos for making sauces & pasatta, podding beans for drying, bagging up potatoes & processing beans, beet leaves, chard & courgettes for freezing, I'm also making pickles!

So here's a nice little recipe that's good for using up whatever veg you have an excess of. I used courgettes, carrots, cauliflower & peas, but you can use runner beans, sweetcorn, turnips, beetroot, radishes, aubergines - anything really! The recipe uses Garam Masala, which is a mixture of ground spices. You can buy it ready blended, but you can also make your own. My blend has cumin, cinnamon, fenugreek, black pepper, turmeric & ludicrous amounts of coriander seed. No chilli for a change, as this is a warm, pungent sort of blend, rather than a hot & spicy one. Though you can add chillis too, if you fancy.

Curried Vegetable Relish

225g courgettes
225g carrots
225g cauliflower
225g peas
225g onion
400ml white wine vinegar
170g sugar
1tsp yellow mustard seed
1tsp ground ginger
2tsp garam masala
1tbs salt
1tsp cornflour

Chop the vegetables, as coarse or as fine as you like (I like my pickles chunky). Pile into a colander & scatter with the salt. Cover & leave overnight. The salt will draw the moisture out of the veggies, so they'll still have a bit of bite to them.
Next day, rinse the veg & drain. Blend the cornflour with a little of the vinegarin a small bowl & set aside. Put the remaining vinegar, sugar & spices into a large pan & bring to a boil. Add the cornflour mixture & boil 3-4 minutes, until the mixture thickens. Remove from the heat & stir in the vegetables. Pack into warm, sterilised jars & try not to touch for a month.

Goes well with cheese, vegetable fritters, veggie burgers & hot dogs. Yum!

*Turning leaves are all well and good, but nothing says autumn to me quite like the twitching of the crochet hook!

Pickled Nasturtium Seeds (Poor Mans Capers)

Genuine Capers* (Capparis spinosa) are the pickled or salted bud of a large spiny shrub native to the Mediterranean that grows in hot, well drained dry soil. So no chance of growing it in Yorkshire.

But fear not, for we have an abundance of the next best thing, Nasturtiums! Yes, beloved flower of my old Nan, and unstoppable force at the end of the garden (where I foolishly chucked a 19p packet of Netto seeds several years ago, and have spent every summer ever since battling them for garden supremacy**) Hurrah for nasturtiums! They grow anywhere (they're originally from South America, where all the most delicious things are from), hide a multitude of sins (being essentially a big orange distraction), grow like Billy-O so slugs have no chance of doing their usual destruction, and the flowers & leaves are tasty in salads.

They are also great companion plants for curcubits (courgettes & summer squash) & brassicas (Broccoli & Cauliflower), and will keep growing & producing flowers until the first frost.

But what I'm going on about is the seeds.

Nasturtiums produce lots of seeds, about 3 seeds to every flower (and when planted in full sun they flower a lot!), which should be picked on a dry day when still firm and green (you'll have to rummage around in the leaves to find them).
There are a couple of different methods to pickling the seeds. last year I soaked them in salt water for 3 days (changing the water each day) before packing them into sterilised jars & topping with boiled vinegar. They were nice, but had lost their spicy tang (and whats the point of nasturtiums without their pepperyness?), so this time it's Mrs Beeton's recipe.

Wipe the Nasturtium seeds with a clean cloth (I did give them a quick rinse first) & pack into sterilised glass jars (there are various ways of sterilising, but I tend to swipe some home brewing cleanser & deodoriser from the other half's beer making kit. Works a treat.).

To each pint of vinegar used (I used distilled) add 1/2 oz (about 14g) salt & 6 peppercorns, sling in a pan & bring to the boil. Strain & pour over the capers. Seal & store in a cool dry place, and resist the urge to open for, ooh, 3 months. Though they can be kept longer, up to a year or more if things are good & sterile (I've got some chutney I made in 2006 that's still good***)

*not to be confused with the 3 act caper, which involves heists, plot twists, thrilling rooftop chases and the Woman Who Done Him Wrong

**Though we all know that its the spectacularly fat magpie who lives in the pear tree that is the master of us all

***Made on 6th June 2006, so it was named Apicklypse. Chortle indeed.