Carrot and rhubarb jam (aka Christmas in a jar)

carrot rhubarb jam

When we moved all our possessions into boxes and suitcases a few weeks ago and decamped to my Mum’s (so the builders could take our house apart and, hopefully, put it back together to be much better) I brought a gigantic box of tins and jars.

When I say gigantic, I mean gigantic. It took two grown men to lift the thing into the van.

It seemed crazy to put all our bits and pieces from the larder into storage, so we thought we’d bring them with us, but I knew my Mum was never going to be crazy keen on the idea of finding space in her cupboards for my collection of random tinned foods that I bought two years ago on a whim and have never used.

So I promised myself (and her) that I would use everything up as quickly as possible.

Top of the list were two tins of rhubarb, purchased when I was last pregnant with the idea it might prevent me scarfing down the treacle pudding and never since touched. I love fresh rhubarb, but this tinned stuff just never quite appealed…

Then, in a rather pleasing moment of synchronicity, browsing the local Oxfam bookshop in Marlow yesterday (a veritable treasure trove, well worth a visit if any reader is close enough to make one) I came across a book all about growing vegetables, for the princely sum of £1.99. I purchased it, thinking it would be helpful for my revision for my horticulture exams coming up in February, and it was only once I’d got it home that I discovered the delights of a small recipe section in the very back.

And one of the very first recipes to catch my eye was, wait for it, carrot and rhubarb jam. Yes, you read that right, jam. Not chutney.

Carrot and rhubarb jam
Jam. The kind you spread on bread…

My interest inevitably piqued (carrot jam? Surely not? But then again carrot cake is pretty damn tasty) and the rhubarb tins crying out to be used, I set about attempting a version of my own.

The original recipe had only three ingredients (carrots, rhubarb and sugar) and those in vast quantities, so I tweaked the amounts, added some spices and, a mere hour after commencing the process, had four jars of this rather wonderful concoction.

Rhubarb and carrot jam
Yum, yum, jam

The thing that surprised me the most is that it tastes like the perfect jam for Christmas. It’s got a good spiced flavor, not unlike mincemeat in fact, but with a real freshness of taste at the same time. I had some on bread this morning and it was really delicious, but I think you could also use it as a compote for porridge or yoghurt, or even in the place of a more traditional rhubarb chutney, alongside some cold meat or cheese.

Because the jam has very little pectin in, it hasn’t set, so much as thickened, and it isn’t something you could store for a long time. The original recipe says three weeks in the fridge.

But if you used a jam sugar with added pectin, you’d achieve a more jelly-like consistency and would be able to store it for much longer.

I also used brown sugar, because that’s what I had to hand in the right quantities, but of course that has made my jam turn a rather brown colour. If you used granulated (or jam) sugar you’d maintain the orangey-pink of the rhubarb and carrots, which would look a little more toothsome.

carrot and rhubarb jam
Slightly brown-looking, but it tastes delicious, I promise…

Anyway, alterations aside, here is my recipe. Make up a batch this weekend and I promise you’ll feel Christmassy every breakfast right up until December 25th


  • 500g tinned rhubarb, strained (two large tins)
  • 500g carrots (peeled weight), peeled and roughly chopped
  • 500g sugar (I used soft dark brown, but I think a white sugar would look nicer)
  • 5 cardamom seeds
  • 1 orange, zest and juice
  • 1 thumb sized piece of ginger, peeled
  • half a nutmeg

What to do:

1. Put the chopped carrots into a large saucepan and add the piece of ginger, the cardamom pods (bruised to release the flavours) and the juice of the orange.

2. Bring to the boil and simmer until the carrots are really soft

3. Strain the carrots, discarding the spices but reserving 125ml of the cooking water.

4. Return carrots to pan and mash them. (You could also blend or liquidise, but I always like the route that involves the least washing up at the end…)

5. Add the reserved cooking juice, the zest of the orange and grate in approximately half a nutmeg.

6. Cook for about 20-30 minutes until the jam starts to thicken. This isn’t a jam that is going to take on a traditional “set” so there’s little science involved, just stop cooking it when you think the consistency looks appealing.

7. Decant into sterilised jars (either run them through the dishwasher or wash in hot soapy water and then leave in the oven at about 100 degrees for ten minutes or so) and add the lids. Voila! Christmas in a jar!

Carrot and rhubarb jam
All my breakfasts look like this. Honest…

And do let me know what you think of it if you have a go at this recipe.

Now, I just need to figure out what I could make with those 25 tins of sliced peaches.

PS What do you think of my photos for this post? I’ve been taking part in a Blogging Your Way course, from decor8, and this week we had to try and take some styled photos. It is not something that comes naturally to me (in fact, I shy away from putting food posts up here on the blog as I find it such an absolute bitch trying to take good photos of food, which always need to have excellent styling to look nice) and I can already see loads of errors in the pictures here, but, hey, it’s not a bad start I think.

Related articles:

I’m a real fan of making jams, chutneys and cordials. If you share my passion, take a look at some of these other recipes:

Five woolly baked delights

Which came first: the scheduling for the Great British Bake Off final or National Baking Week?

(I ask this rhetorically, simply because I am too lazy for the three second Google search that would undoubtedly give me an answer…)

Whichever it is, with two such prestigious events in the space of a fortnight, this is a big time for baking. It would seem churlish not to get with the action and join in.

But, just as I was heading to the kitchen to get out the Kenwood, it dawned on me that it was also British Wool Week this week too. Aha! Surely the chance for a double celebration here.

And so it is, I present to you my choice of five delicious-looking woollen baked goodies.

Since my current making schedules are running about six months behind, it’s unlikely I’m going to get any of these actually finished before the week is out, but I’ll definitely be pulling out my needles for the Bake Off final next Wednesday and knitting along.

I’ll show you the results, hmmm, probably sometime next year…

1. Knitted cupcake pincushions, by Little Cotton Rabbits

knitted cupcake pincushion by Little Cotton Rabbits

The first knitted goody has been in my Ravelry queue for some time now. These amazing knitted cupcake pincushions are designed by Little Cotton Rabbits, aka one of my very favourite knitting blogs.

If your knitting mojo is lacking, or you’re looking for knitspiration (sorry!), or you just want to look at some beautiful photographs and read a blog by a brilliant writer, then I recommend a visit over to Little Cotton Rabbits.

Oh and I almost forgot to talk about the cupcakes themselves. Well, take a look at the photo, they’re adorable, aren’t they?

You can buy the pattern here for £2: knitted cupcake pincushions.

2. Crochet jammy dodger, by According to Matt

Crochet jammy dodger

Despite not knowing how to crochet, it seems that I pin some amazing crochet project or other on a weekly basis, each time making me declare that it really is time that I learnt.

The latest was this quite, quite delicious looking jammy dodger, from the blog According to Matt. The tutorial is free and to my non-crocheters eyes, it looks really simple to follow.

Take a look here: crochet jammy dodger.

3. A slice of cake, by Bitter Sweet

Slice of cake

Another free pattern, this slice of cake tickles me something rotten. It’s a slice! With a candle! All knitted from wool!

I’m not entirely sure what you would do with this, once you had knitted it. Perhaps just display it proudly on your kitchen table for all eternity. It’s from a cooking blog called Bitter Sweet, by Hannah Kaminsky. If you’re less a fan of knitted goodies (though if you weren’t a fan, I doubt you’d be reading this far) and more a fan of the genuine article, then this is the blog. Loads of recipes for delicious looking cakes and pies and bread.

Find the free knitting pattern here: a slice of cake.

4. Crochet Battenburg, eBay

crochet battenburg pattern

I’ve got to admit, I prefer buying my patterns through Ravelry, individual designers, or Etsy, but when I came across this crochet Battenburg on eBay, I couldn’t resist including it. Those little pink and yellow squares were just calling out to me…

The seller has an absolute wealth of other knitted food patterns too. Spend too long browsing here and you risk falling down a rabbit hole and emerging on the other side with a knitted cup of tea in your hand, wondering where the past few weeks went. You have been warned…

Find the pattern here on eBay for £1.50: crochet Battenburg cake.

5. More cake, I need more cake! Etsy

Knitted cake selection of patterns

And if you just simply can’t pick just one solitary little knitted piece of deliciousness, then cakescakescakes over on Etsy has six different patterns available, including chocolate eclairs and raisin buns.

Choose a selection of three for £6.34: various knitted cake patterns

So there you have it, a tasty selection for a Saturday morning. If you know of any other great patterns I should have included, do drop me a message in the comments.

Have a great weekend!

Related articles:

  • Find these ideas plus many (many, many) more planned craft projects on my Pinterest board I could make that
  • You know, it’s not just knitted foodstuffs that rock my boat. I have been known to make food from felt too, like this Breakfast fry up for Bacon week. (What can I say? I love a good “week.”)

Blackberry and apple vodka recipe

…AKA a photo a day: August 19th…

Yesterday was all about jamming and chutneying. But even after making 10 jars of the blackberry and apple jam, we still had plenty left over.

With the rest of the blackberries, I decided to make a couple of bottles of fruit vodka.

Blackberry vodka
Oh this is a sight for sore eyes!

We have some seriously cheap, seriously nasty, seriously eye-watering bottles of vodka that have been sitting in our larder ever since my 30th birthday party nearly five years ago. I massively over-ordered on the booze, and for a while went through a phase of cooking everything in a vodka sauce (which is pretty tasty, actually) but somehow these two bottles had escaped that mania unscathed.

But they are much, much too vile to be drunk alone (I hasten to point out, for my birthday they were made into Moscow Mules, I didn’t just force all my friends to drink cheap and nasty vodka on its own) so the addition of some fruit is the perfect solution.

It’s a very simply recipe, based on sloe gin, but which can be adapted to vodka or pretty much any fruit as well.


  • A litre bottle of gin or vodka, two thirds full
  • 200g of sugar
  • Approximately 300g of blackberries

What to do:

1. Pour the sugar into the bottle of vodka, using a funnel

2. Shake well (with the lid on, obviously) until the sugar is well dissolved

3. Stuff the fruit into the top until the bottle is completely full up. This was around 300g of blackberries in this case, but just keep on going until the bottle is full. Shake again.

4. Store in cool dark place. Check on it every few days or once a week for the first month or so and give it a good shake.

5. Leave it for at least three months before drinking. Ideally, you could leave it about two years for the flavours to really infuse the vodka. But, I should say, the very best sloe gin I ever drank was 21 years old.

blackberry vodka
It’s tempting to drink this straight away, it looks so utterly delicious, but one whiff of the cheap vodka inside put me off immediately… In a year, though, it’ll be a different story.

Other fruits:

You can use all sorts of other fruits (as well as substituting the vodka with gin, of course…) Keep the sugar / booze / fruit ratios the same, but any of these would work too:

  • Cherry vodka. I made some of this last year with the sparse crop from my new morello cherry tree. (18 cherries, if you’re wondering.) Cut the cherries in half and you can either leave the pip in or remove it. If you leave it in, it tastes a bit like almonds as well, which is actually very delicious. This definitely takes a while for the flavours to infuse though. We tested ours after eight months and it was quite unpleasant. Now, about 14 months later, it’s really good…
  • Sloe gin. This is the classic, of course. Prick the sloes all over before adding.  Sloes are ready to be harvested in Autumn time, so keep an eye out for them soon. The gin you make should be ready for drinking in time for Christmas, so this can be a perfect present.
  • Damson gin. Again, prick the damsons before adding to the gin.
  • Apple vodka. This was a new one for me, but I also made a bottle of it yesterday. I had some slightly unripe windfall apples in the garden, so I decided to try a bottle and see how it goes. If you’re still reading this blog in 18 months, I’ll give you the verdict! This is what they looked like before being mixed together:
apple vodka
I’ve got to say, I don’t think this looks hugely appealing right now. We’ll have to see whether it improves with age…

Tell me, do you have any other great fruit / booze combinations I should try?

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A photo a day: August 18th

Ah the overpowering scent of vinegar wafting through my house!

It’s everywhere: in my hair, my clothes, the freshly-washed laundry waiting to be folded… But it’s when you step into the kitchen that it really burns your eyes, bringing tears streaming down your cheeks.

Yes indeed, it’s my first pickling day of the year.

pumpkin chutney
Lovely vinegary, sugary pumpkins…

For some reason, I’d completely failed to eat two Abel & Cole pumpkins for so long that they were really past their best. So there was only one thing for it: pumpkin chutney.

I followed a recipe I found at the British Larder that adds some apples (for which I picked a few windfalls from our garden), raisins, plum tomatoes (I had none, so used a tin) and various delicious spices.

I’m a massive chutney lover and this looks like a good one. I’ll let you know how it tastes, when we crack open the first jar at the start of Winter…

Blackberry and apple jam
This is the jam down the barrel of the jar, so to speak…

Yesterday saw more preserving as well, with the blackberries we’d picked in the cemetery. I made up a batch of blackberry and apple jam, following a recipe from the Cottage Smallholder. I guess it’s somewhere between a jam and jelly, since it is sieved, like a jelly, to remove all the blackberry seeds, but, like jam, will be used on toast, not cold meats. The smell of this stuff was absolutely incredible, and I couldn’t resist opening a jar straight away, so I can report that it is really, really, really tasty.

blackberry and apple jam
Yeah, I like to keep my jams and chutneys out in the garden. Don’t you?

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the fate of the rest of the blackberries. Advance notice. It involves lots of booze…

Joining in with the August Break.

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A photo a day: August 14th

rhubarb syrup bottle
Gloriously pink

On holiday in Rye two weeks ago, we had supper one night at the Ship Inn.

Because we were on holiday, I treated myself to one of the delicious-sounding but outrageously expensive cocktails.*

After a long, serious study of the cocktail menu and a weighing up on the pros and cons of various appealing options, I settled for the rhubarb martini. And boy was I glad I did.

I absolutely love rhubarb, but had never before come across the genius idea of combining it with alcohol.

In a moment of pleasing synchronicity, a few days later I saw this rhubarb mojito recipe on the ever-wonderfully-written Decorator’s Notebook blog.

So, armed with some of the rhubarb that grows prolifically in my garden, I decided to make up some of the rhubarb syrup, so I could add it to gin, vodka or perhaps just some lemonade.

It’s the most fabulous colour, isn’t it? Here’s another picture of the whole bottle glinting away in the morning sunlight:

rhubarb cordial
The only difficulty will be rationing the bottle…

Joining in with the August Break.

*To be fair to the Ship Inn, it’s not that their cocktails are particularly expensive cocktails, rather that I can never quite get over spending £8 for one single drink, when I would never spend more than that on a whole bottle of wine from the supermarket.

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Spiffing elderflower cordial recipe

Elderflower cordial is one of those drinks that make me feel that I’m a character in an Enid Blyton book.

You know how the Famous Five went on endless picnics and every time someone drank a bottle of ginger ale, they’d proclaim to the other four, “I do declare this to be the best ginger ale I’ve ever tasted in my entire life…”

Homemade elderflower cordial
Life is better with elderflower cordial. Fact.

Elderflower cordial is a bit like that for me. I love the stuff. And I feel an overwhelming urge to use words like “spiffing” whenever I drink it.

But despite my great love for it, this is the first year I’ve ever attempted to make it.

For some reason, I always had it in my head that elderflower cordial was really, really tricky to make. Despite being a prolific chutney, marmalade and jam maker, I’ve never branched out into drinks – fearing, perhaps, making something as unpleasant as my grandfather’s notorious home brewed wine used to be.

But I met up with a friend last week, who not only gave me a bottle of elderflower cordial she’d made, but also shared her recipe with me. And it turns out, it’s super simple.

The last elderflower blossoms are still on the tree, so if you’ve been similarly put off giving it a go in the past, head out and pick some now and make yourself up a batch to keep for the summer.

Elderflower blossoms
Lovely and frothy blossoms


  • 20 heads of elderflower
  • 800g white sugar
  • 3 pints water
  • 4 lemons, zested and sliced
  • 50g citric acid

What to do

Zested, sliced lemons
First, take your lemons…
  1. Boil the water and pour into a large bowl.
  2. Put the sugar in to the freshly-boiled water and stir til it has dissolved.
  3. Leave to cool
  4. When cool, add the lemon zest and slices and the citric acid
  5. Check the elderflower heads for bugs and put the flowers in to the bowl. (I could have spent a little longer doing this, judging by the amount of black things that were floating around at the end, but at this point,  you’re making something that looks and smells so delicious, you don’t even care if it’s got bugs in. Bugs? They probably taste just like roses…)

    homemade elderflower cordial
    I know, it looks too good to be true, doesn’t it?
  6. Leave, covered with a tea towel, for 24 hours. (I forgot mine and left it for 48 hours. It was fine…)
  7. Strain through a fine sieve ( muslin would be even better) and pour into sterilised bottles. (I didn’t bother to sterilise my bottles, because I was feeling lazy and I knew I’d drink it all before it would have a chance to go off anyway… I also put some in a plastic bottle and just stuck it into the freezer. I’ll let you know if that worked when it comes to taking it out.)
Elderflower cordial
Enjoy in a completely uncontrived situation like this one…

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Bounty from the weekend

Not much chat this morning (I’ve got a Monday morning head on, I’m afraid) but just a few pics of things I harvested / grew / stole over the weekend, along with plans for their transformation…

First up, this verdant little bunch of wild garlic leaves.

wild garlic leaves

I’ve felt a little jealous of the country lifestyle of my friend Laura (of Circle of Pine Trees) ever since I saw her amazing pesto recipe, made from hand picked wild garlic foraged from their local woods. So imagine my surprise to realise that there was a bounty of wild(ish) garlic growing along the side of a path just down the road from me. Admittedly, I do suspect it’s been carefully planted there by the council, but I nipped a leaf or two from each plant in the hope nobody would mind.

This healthy bunch of rhubarb, on the other hand, is from my own garden.

Homegrown rhubarb

We were lucky enough to inherit all sorts of amazing well-established fruit and veg when we moved in to our new house and the six rhubarb plants seem never-endingly abundant.

I will definitely be making a rhubarb and orange cake following the recipe from Waitrose. I’ve made this a couple of times before and it’s an absolute beauty.

I think I shall also try some chutney. This rhubarb and apple chutney, from BBC good food looks rather delicious.

Finally, a bit of booze. I’m getting married later this year and we were originally planning on making sloe gin for everyone as wedding favours. Except, when it was sloe season we had just moved house and had a really small baby, so we never managed to pick any. But, with the abundance of rhubarb in the garden, I think it could be worth having a crack at some rhubarb gin instead. I’ll trial a small bottle first before going for industrial quantities. Billy’s Booze Blog has two different rhubarb gin recipes.

I’m hoping this little pumpkin seedling will one day become just as prolific as the rhubarb:

pumpkin seedling

I planted eight seeds a few weeks ago and all have germinated. I shall have to give some away because I certainly don’t have space for that many pumpkins. I harvested the seeds myself and can no longer remember whether they are standard pumpkins or butternut squash. But, if the latter, I will certainly be making a butternut squash risotto or ten, come Autumn time. I usually just wing it when I make one, but I might be tempted to try this really unusual recipe by Nigel Slater, which uses leftover butternut squash soup along with stock.

How was your weekend? Was it sunny where you were too?

The world’s simplest recipe: apple and plum compote

Almost a month after making the failed apple cake and the much more successful apple and sage jelly and (not) bramley lemon curd, I still had seven apples left from the great tree-picking.

I’d left them really far too long sitting in the fruit bowl and they weren’t looking very perky anymore.

Sad apples

I also had a punnet of supermarket plums that are as hard as bullets and have very little flavour.

Wizened plums
Wizened, wrinkly and rock hard: could these supermarket plums be destined for greater things?

These sad fruits were past eating fresh, but I hoped that by cooking them together with a bit of the magic ingredient, sugar, they could be revived into something a bit nicer. I decided to make myself an apple and plum compote. Perfect for putting on top of yoghurt, or just snacking on straight from the fridge when I can’t find any other food in the house. That sort of thing.

I am almost embarrassed to be sharing this as a “recipe” – it’s so simple I’m not even sure that it counts as such, but this is what I did:


  • Some apples (I used seven, but however many you have to hand will be fine)
  • Some plums (I used four plums. You could substitute with any other fruit that goes well with apples: rhubarb, blackberries, raspberries would all work well, for example. Or you don’t need a second fruit, you could just stick to apples.)
  • Lemon juice, a dash
  • Sugar, a handful
  • Some nice spices (nutmeg, cloves, ginger or cinnamon would all work well, depending whether you’re feeling Christmassy or Summery…)
Apple and plum compote
All chopped up and raring to cook


  1. Peel, core and chop the apples. I quartered my apples, then cut each quarter in half, just to give you an idea of size.
  2. Core and chop the plums, or other fruit.
  3. Put all fruit into a pan and add a couple of tbsps of lemon juice (or grate the rind of a lemon over, if you want a stronger flavour) and add some of your spices. As much as you like, really. I grated half a nutmeg into mine.
  4. Add some sugar: the amount is up to you, depending on how sweet or tart you want the compote to be. I used 2tbsps.
  5. Pour a small amount of water into the saucepan so the bottom is just covered – I used around 100ml.
  6. Cook over a low heat for about 15 mins till the fruit is soft and crumbling.
  7. If you mind about things like plum peel, now is the time to fish it out. You can stick the whole thing through a sieve, or just pull out anything you don’t like the look of.
  8. Mash with a potato masher or a fork.
Apple and plum compote recipe from Wolves in London
Makes any yoghurt tastier. The finished plum and apple compote

Eat hot as it is or let it cool and store in the fridge. If you’ve more than you can eat in one go, this will also freeze well.

Perfect for using as a topping on yoghurt, rice pudding, porridge, or any other “plain” thing that needs a pep, for dolloping onto muesli, eating by the spoonful, or even as a really fresh spread on toast.

When cooking goes wrong: a cautionary tale

If you dropped by here last week,  you’ll have seen my posts about our apple windfall and the appley deliciousness that followed in the kitchen. It all sounded rather perfect. Reading back I rather envy this person with their idyllic life: picking the apples from the trees in the garden, making some preserves, heck, even a partner who loves to cook and is happy to whip up a quick curd when he comes home from work in the evening.

It was all starting to sound a little too flawless, right? Turning into one of those blogs where “delicious smells” are constantly “wafting from the kitchen,” where trees are “heavy with the bounty of fruit” and everything about this person’s life is so blinking fantastic  (if a bit on the twee side) you start to hate them a little bit…  a world with babies that don’t cry, partners who love to cook and soufflés that always rise.

Well, just so you don’t hate me, I thought I’d share our third and final bit of apple cooking. This was the result:

Apple cake
Believe it or not, this is actually an apple cake. Delicious looking, ahem…

No, that isn’t supposed to be a treacle sponge, or some apple version of a chocolate pot pudding all gooey on the inside. That is supposed to be an apple cake. And just a reminder in case you’ve not seen a cake for a while: cakes are supposed to be firm and stand up on their own.

Our problem, I think, was that we used a really deep cake tin. We cooked it for the correct amount of time, but it wasn’t set, so we cooked it for another hour (double the time). The next day, I upended it from the mould, saw the middle wasn’t quite set, so cooked it for another hour. By now, this cake had been in the oven for a full three hours, which you’d think would be enough to nuke any cake, but when we went to eat it, this was the vision we saw.

So, there you have it, a cautionary tale against culinary smugness. The moral of the story: don’t feel too great about your prowess in the kitchen with apples from the garden or your cakes will never rise again.

Sounds like an ancient Chinese proverb…

(Admittedly, though, the non-collapsed outside of the cake was pretty tasty, so I may well try and make it again. But I’ll obey the recipes instructions for the size of cake tin next time…)

Apple glut part two: Not bramley lemon curd

Those reading this blog yesterday, will have seen my post about the utterly delicious sage and apple jelly I made from the apple glut at our new house.

The jelly was fantastic, but it didn’t make a big enough dent in our apple pile (which I sadly didn’t photograph, so you’ll just have to imagine a lovely wicker basket overflowing with apples). Next to try was a variation on lemon curd, found in the River Cottage guide to preserves: Bramley Lemon curd.

Bowl of apples and lemons
The ingredients

We didn’t have bramley apples but we figured, quite rightly, that our apples would be just as delicious. Now, I have to admit, I didn’t make this one myself. I read through the recipe and found references to things like double steamers and heating it to a certain exact temperature and was immediately put off. I’m more of a chuck-the-ingredients-in-give-it-a-stir-every-now-and-then-until-it-tastes-good kinda cook. Stews not souffles, that’s my style. Luckily, my partner loves fiddly cooking (he can spend hours pre-chopping the veg to the perfect millimetre before so much as turning on the oven) so I put myself in charge of apple chopping and him in charge of the making.

To be fair to Jamie, and the recipe, once he’d started he made it look a lot more straightforward than it sounded. And within 30 minutes we’d made ourselves some gorgeous tasting (Not) Bramley lemon curd.

Lemon curd

Lemon curd on toast
Lovely spread thick on toast. Yum, yum, yum

I’ve just had a quick Google and it turns out this recipe has been published by the Guardian so is available online: River Cottage Bramley lemon curd recipe. I strongly recommend you make your own if you’ve got a few apples spare. We followed the recipe to the letter, but found we needed to heat the mixture for a lot more than ten minutes to get the right consistency: it ended up being closer to 25 by the time it was thick enough.

Best of all, we’ve still got some apples left…

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Here are some more cooking ideas for apples if, like me, you’ve got a few on your hands…