Before the Frost: A Green Tomato Chutney for the Winter Shelf

By mid-November, the greenhouse has usually given up. The light is thin, the tomato vines are tired, and whatever fruit is left clings on in a stubborn shade of green. Some years there are a handful. Some years there is a bowlful. Either way, they are worth dealing with properly.

This is not a preserving marathon. It is a small, useful batch of chutney made from the last of the crop, the sort of thing that fits into an ordinary afternoon between other jobs. No festive pressure, no twelve-jar production line. Just a pan on the hob and a few clean jars waiting on the counter.

Use the tomatoes you have

Green tomatoes are not unripe tomatoes to be apologised for. They have their own firm texture and sharp flavour, and they take spice beautifully. Choose fruit that is dry, firm and free from soft spots. A few tomatoes beginning to blush are fine; they will simply soften the finished chutney a little. Discard anything with blight, rot or a doubtful smell.

You want about 1kg of prepared tomatoes. Small ones can be halved; larger ones should be roughly chopped. There is no need to peel them. A large onion, chopped, and one cooking apple, peeled and diced, will add body and a gentler sweetness. If you have a windfall apple or two, so much the better.

The balance of sugar, vinegar and spice

Chutney is really a lesson in balance. Too little sugar and it tastes harsh; too much and it becomes jam with a savoury label. Too little vinegar and it will not keep well; too much and it bites back. For this batch, I use roughly 250g to 300g of soft brown sugar and 300ml of cider vinegar or malt vinegar. Malt gives a fuller, more traditional flavour; cider is a little rounder. Either works.

For spice, keep it warm rather than hot. A thumb of fresh ginger, grated, a teaspoon of mustard seeds, a pinch of chilli flakes, four cloves and a good grating of nutmeg make a chutney that tastes of November without shouting. Add a teaspoon of salt and plenty of black pepper. If you like a darker chutney, a tablespoon of black treacle or muscovado sugar will do it, but go carefully.

Put everything in a heavy pan and bring it slowly to a simmer. Stir often, especially towards the end. It will take somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour for the tomatoes to collapse and the mixture to thicken. Do not rush it. Chutney needs time for the vinegar to soften and the spices to settle. When it is ready, a wooden spoon drawn through the pan should leave a clear trail that fills slowly. It should mound on the spoon rather than run off.

Jars that behave

Wash your jars in hot soapy water, rinse well and sterilise them in a low oven at about 120C for 15 minutes, or run them through a hot dishwasher cycle. Fill them while they are still warm, using a jug or a ladle and a wide funnel. Press the chutney down to remove air pockets, wipe the rims, and seal with clean lids.

Label the jars with the date and what is inside. Store them in a cool, dark cupboard and leave them alone for four to six weeks before opening. The flavour will be sharper on the first day and much better by Christmas. Once opened, keep the jar in the fridge and use it within a month or so. If a lid domes, the smell is off, or there is mould on the surface, bin it. Chutney is forgiving, but it is not invincible.

More than a cheese sandwich

A spoonful alongside a ploughman's lunch is the obvious start, but this chutney has a wider usefulness. Try it with cold roast pork, a slice of pork pie, sausages or a baked potato with plenty of butter. Stir a little into gravy for sausages and mash, or loosen it with oil and use it as a dressing for warm potatoes. It is good in a cheese toastie, under the grill on a piece of haddock, or mixed into leftover bubble and squeak. A jar also makes a sensible gift for someone who would rather have something useful than another box of biscuits.

A small, useful batch

The pleasure of a green tomato chutney is that it turns a problem into a pantry staple. You do not need to make twenty jars. Four or five will see you through the winter, with one or two to give away. Make it on a quiet afternoon, let the kitchen smell of vinegar and spice, and put the jars on the shelf next to the marmalade and the pickled onions. It is a modest sort of preserving, but it earns its keep.