The berry that waits for the frost.
There's an old countryside rule about sloes: leave them until after the first frost, or they'll bite back too hard to enjoy. It's the kind of knowledge that gets passed down rather than written down and it's exactly how we still pick ours, straight from the blackthorn hedges here at Cross Bank Farm.
On their own, sloes are almost too sharp to eat, which is precisely why generations of country kitchens learned to slow-cook them into something else entirely. Paired here with our own Bramley apples, the result is a jelly that keeps that wild, tart backbone but rounds it into something warmer and altogether more refined.
Bold enough to sit next to game or a serious cheddar, elegant enough for cold meats, and, we'll say it plainly, very good on hot buttered toast with nothing else required.
Ingredients: Sugar. Water. Bramley apples. Sloe berries. Lemon juice.
Hand-picked from our own hedgerows at Cross Bank Farm, after the first frost.
The berry that waits for the frost.
There's an old countryside rule about sloes: leave them until after the first frost, or they'll bite back too hard to enjoy. It's the kind of knowledge that gets passed down rather than written down and it's exactly how we still pick ours, straight from the blackthorn hedges here at Cross Bank Farm.
On their own, sloes are almost too sharp to eat, which is precisely why generations of country kitchens learned to slow-cook them into something else entirely. Paired here with our own Bramley apples, the result is a jelly that keeps that wild, tart backbone but rounds it into something warmer and altogether more refined.
Bold enough to sit next to game or a serious cheddar, elegant enough for cold meats, and, we'll say it plainly, very good on hot buttered toast with nothing else required.
Ingredients: Sugar. Water. Bramley apples. Sloe berries. Lemon juice.
Hand-picked from our own hedgerows at Cross Bank Farm, after the first frost.