Food - Bee Wilson charts chutney's passage from India
All things chickeney and mutt'ny
Taste better far when served with chutney
So said John F Mackay. And that goes for all things cheesy and bready, too, in my book, only that doesn't rhyme.
There is no surer sign of mellow fruitfulness than making chutney. It doesn't just signal that autumn has set in, but also that you, the chutney-maker, have reached this season of your allotted span. When bottling things, you realise that life's gayer excitements have passed you by - quite a sobering thought at 25. I look in the mirror and expect to find wrinkles; instead, I see mahogany splatters and tomatoey stains; I actually look about three. It's a messy business, making chutney.
Our English windfall chutneys are different from the Indian relishes that originally inspired them. For one thing, they're mostly much sweeter. The Indian chutney is predominantly sour and piquant, not sweet and sludgy. For another, they keep through the winter whereas most Indian chutneys are ground fresh on a chutney stone for each meal. A typical combination might be mint leaves, onion, chilli and coconut, or ginger, coriander and lime. Coconut chutney is common in southern India, radish chutney in the north. Fresh fruits can be added. The idea is to enliven plainer foods such as rice, dal and roti. These chutneys are closer to salsas than to Branston pickle, and much less suitable for serving with all things chickeny and muttony.
There is, however, another style of Indian sweet pickle, designed for keeping, which cooks sugar and vinegar together with fruit and spices. The key fruit is mango. Associates of the East India Company discovered that these mango pickles were ideal provisions on long sea journeys. When merchants brought them home, 17th-century English housewives were inspired to make their own. Mango chutney was all the rage among the chattering classes.
The paucity of mangoes in Plymouth and Dover was no obstacle. Fake "mangoes" were made by hollowing out marrows, cucumbers, melons, lemons and peaches, and filling the centre with onions and spices. Chilli's heat was mimicked with mustard powder. "Bamboo" was manufactured from elder shoots. And so was born the English chutney, which eventually ditched the whole mango concept and charted its own native course through apples and raisins, plums and green beans, damsons and dates. The two cultures still meet, though, in tomato chutney (common all over India as well as the Home Counties) and piccalilli, that yellowy mix of cauliflower and turmeric.
Chutney has been spelled many ways: chutney, chutnee, chutni and chatni. This last is a Hindi word, meaning "to be licked", which is exactly what chutney, in all its forms, should be.
To be licked
This is adapted from Margaret Costa's green tomato chutney, taking into account the difficulty of producing a proper crop of tomatoes in gloomy city gardens, even green ones. You need: 1kg cooking apples (windfalls if available); 250g onions; 25g garlic; 75g ginger, all peeled; 30g crushed mustard seed; 20g shredded chillis; 500g sultanas. Put all the above in a food processor and blitz to your preferred texture. Then take as many green tomatoes as you have (peeled) and make them up to 2kg with either tinned, drained tomatoes or fresh red ones. Chop. Now put everything in a large heavy pan along with 500ml vinegar (cider vinegar is good but malt is classic), 50g salt and 600g Demerara sugar. (Adjust these amounts to suit yourself.) Cook very gently for 3-4 hours until well blended and thick. Pot in clean, hot jars and leave to mature for several months or even a year. Age cannot wither it, but only mellow it, at least within reason.
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