It’s Not Just for Indian Food Anymore: Tell Me if You’d Put Some in Your Grocery Cart
It’s okay that no one who tasted my first attempt
at Mary Berry’s Tomato Chutney offered any
feedback. Well, except for one. The person I expected
to say Your chutney was great! did say it. I don’t
need to have a compliment every time I inhale,
just every few months to keep my head balanced.
Perhaps it’s a character flaw, or something that shouldn’t
be dissected. So I made a batch of Mary Berry’s
Tomato Chutney and spooned it over some
lightly fried chicken thighs whose seasoned crust
included 11 herbs and spices. It was more than
I expected. I expected a so-so chow-chow,
a flaccid relish with a metallic bottled profile.
What I got was three specific notes:
One, a swelling of cinnamon and curry
that hit the palm of the tongue with a warm
skid, followed by a tangy fusion of red chili
flakes and fresh ground ginger that coated the back
of my throat like a warm cocoa on a cold winter night.
And then that discernible sweet risk of grape tomatoes,
their guts smashed and as sweet as jelly.
at Mary Berry’s Tomato Chutney offered any
feedback. Well, except for one. The person I expected
to say Your chutney was great! did say it. I don’t
need to have a compliment every time I inhale,
just every few months to keep my head balanced.
Perhaps it’s a character flaw, or something that shouldn’t
be dissected. So I made a batch of Mary Berry’s
Tomato Chutney and spooned it over some
lightly fried chicken thighs whose seasoned crust
included 11 herbs and spices. It was more than
I expected. I expected a so-so chow-chow,
a flaccid relish with a metallic bottled profile.
What I got was three specific notes:
One, a swelling of cinnamon and curry
that hit the palm of the tongue with a warm
skid, followed by a tangy fusion of red chili
flakes and fresh ground ginger that coated the back
of my throat like a warm cocoa on a cold winter night.
And then that discernible sweet risk of grape tomatoes,
their guts smashed and as sweet as jelly.