I was first introduced to crab-apple jelly as a small child, at my maternal grandmother’s house in Heaton, Bradford. I was disgruntled to find that the only preserve on offer at her breakfast table was marmalade, which I disliked intensely. My grandmother rootled around in her ‘pantry’ and produced a half-full jar of crab-apple jelly in order to appease my on-coming tantrum. This it did successfully, and I’d polished the whole lot off by the end of my stay.
There is a large crab-apple tree in the footway outside one of my client’s properties, so this year, whilst I was up a ladder giving the privet hedge its final trim, I thought I’d take the opportunity to fill a bag with a few. Nearly two kilos, in fact.
Later that evening, I reviewed numerous internet recipes. Quite a lot of variance, so which one to select? All of them agreed on washing the apples thoroughly, discarding the bad or bruised ones, and then cutting the remaining ones in half. So far, so good – but don’t underestimate the amount of time it takes to halve 2kg of tiny crab-apples.
After tipping them in to my preserving pan, I took the advice of one recipe to add water up to three-quarters of the level of the fruit. With the benefit of hindsight, I’d say, add enough water to completely cover them. I simmered the apples until they were pulped down, helping them along with the potato masher, and also threw in a handful of redcurrants from the freezer, as one recipe suggested that this made for a more attractive colour.
I then set about attempting to strain the pulped apples through my jelly bag, but it was so thick and stodgy, hardly anything was passing through the bag. At one point, the bowl and the jelly bag on its ridiculously flimsy stand, fell over completely, covering my whole kitchen in mushy crab-apple gloop. I ended up transferring the contents of the jelly bag (and the muslin lined-sieve I’d also set up) back to the pan, and heating it through with more water.
I’ve since read that tights or stockings make good strainers for preserves; you can fill them up with the gloop, and tie them to a handle of a kitchen cupboard door, whilst they strain into a receptacle placed on the worktop underneath.
Most recipes recommended leaving the gloop to strain overnight. Since I had so many crab-apples, this had to be done in batches, over the course of two nights, and one day in between. What a faff. The tea towels that I used to cover the strainers during this time are now irreversibly stained. Another consistent tip was not to squeeze or poke the jelly bags, as this makes the jelly go cloudy. I resisted the temptation.
Eventually, I was able to weigh the strained juice, transfer it to a pan, and add three-quarters of that weight in granulated sugar (i.e. for every litre of juice, add 750g sugar). After dissolving the sugar over a gentle heat, I boiled the mixture for fifteen minutes as instructed by one of the recipes. My observation is that this is far too long, and I would probably try half that amount of time, before doing the first wrinkle test.
To check that the jelly has reached the setting point, cool a teaspoon of jelly on a chilled saucer. If it wrinkles when you push your finger into it, it will set. If it doesn’t wrinkle, boil again for another couple of minutes and test again.
Decant into clean, warmed, sterilised jam jars and fit the lids (also sterilised). Hose down your kitchen and chisel charred preserve off your hob. Collapse into an exhausted heap on the sofa.
I can’t deny it; it looks beautiful but the whole process was such a palaver, I’ve only just recovered myself enough to try it. Fortunately, I can confirm that it also tastes delicious, but I still don’t think it was worth the effort!
