Music and Cats

When I decide at 9 p.m. to begin making some sort of preserves, Paul no longer even rolls his eyes. He knows that, some dreary day next winter, the good things that have come from my nocturnal kitchen adventures will appear on our table, tasting of summer. He also knows that he is powerless to stop me.

I made blueberry chutney last summer, from a recipe in this book. While the recipe made a nice chutney, it was not the perfect blueberry chutney. A little too sweet, it had a less distinct blueberry taste than I wanted, perhaps in part because the recipe included an apple. Now I know that apple pectin helps other fruits to gel, and apples combine beautifully with some fruits (especially blackberries). In this recipe, however, the apple seemed to exist primarily to increase the yield of the recipe from four half-pints to five, while adding little in the way of flavor or texture.

During the course of a combination high tea, baby shower and canning party last year, I somehow came into the possession of this preserving book, which includes a blueberry chutney recipe that uses less sugar than my other recipe and no apple. And it has crystallized ginger, which is one of my favorite ingredients in preserves. The ratio of fruit to vinegar seemed a bit heavy on the vinegar, and the quantity of sugar seemed low, so I made some adjustments to the ingredient list:

2 lb. blueberries (about 6 cups, rather than the 2 pints in the recipe)
1/4 lb. onion, chopped (I used one medium-ishWalla-Walla onion)
1 1/2 cups red wine vinegar
1 cup brown sugar (increased from 1/2 cup)
1/2 cup raisins (I used organic Thompson seedless)
2-3 tablespoons crystallized ginger, chopped (increased from 1 T; I just eyeballed this)
2 teaspoons mustard seed
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Note: Did you notice that two of the measurements were by weight, rather than volume? I was able to weigh the ingredients because on Sunday I purchased, with advice from the lovely Bakerina, a new digital kitchen scale. Now I can cook from the two British cookbooks I own! I also bought this pretty wooden citrus reamer, something every kitchen should have.

One of the great things about making chutney is that it’s so simple. You unceremoniously dump all of the prepped ingredients together in a pot, bring the contents to a boil, and then maintain a medium boil until the mixture has thickened to the consistency that you prefer. You don’t have to take the pot’s temperature; you don’t have to test for set. Oh, you do have to stir regularly (and more frequently as the chutney thickens) ; you don’t want anything burning onto the bottom of the pot.

As the blueberries heat up, their silvery bloom fades, revealing a deep indigo skin. A few minutes of boiling and the berries have burst, revealing reddish interiors. A little more boiling, and the color darkens again to a blackish burgundy.

At the 45 minute mark, I declared this batch of chutney to be done. No photos this time of chutney cooling on our ugly green kitchen countertop, because, really, the four burgundy-black half-pint jars aren’t much to look at.

There’s about half a cup of chutney in our refrigerator, a small spoon resting in the jar. Each time I open the fridge door, I sample a tiny bit. Though the flavors have not yet blended and mellowed, I’m already happier with the taste and texture of this chutney than with my first attempt. Is this the perfect blueberry chutney? I won’t know until sometime this winter, when I open a jar, hoping to conjure up the sun-drenched sweetness of summer on a cold, rainy night.

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