Cheese and Chutney

Campers, this weekend is my exciting foray into the world of hard and semi-soft cheese manufacturing. Yes, this afternoon I am off to see Jim Wallace for two days of immersion in all matters brie, camembert, cheddar, and vacha toscano. I am tingling with anticipation.

But now there is a small task in hand.

For the first time in roughly a million years, I have been assigned homework.

Jim has requested that his students bring examples of their cheese-making craft to his cave in sunny Shelburne Falls, MA for a bit of sharing, tasting, poking, and constructive criticism.

Normally, I would welcome the chance for some guidance on my own practice from the cheese-meister himself. This time around, however, it's just not feasible. Having only ever produced fresh cheese in my own kitchen - and in very small quantities, at that - my mozzarella and ricotta never last more than a few days in the fridge. At the moment, the fridge is bare. Anyway, I'll be driving straight up to the picturesque Pioneer Valley after work and won't start class until tomorrow: I'm not sure my cheese will be at its best (or safest) after such a long time in the car, no matter how many cold packs I wrap around it.

No, I'll just have to taste the cheese of others and attempt to look wise and discerning.

But I still want to offer the gang something edible to show I'm serious about the whole homesteading effort in which I have become involved.

And what goes better with cheese than chutney? Not much, I can tell you. Once again, a solution neatly presents itself.

I already have one surplus jar of my now-famous Date and Banana Chutney but I thought it was be nice to have two different varieties to share. Since Sir received roughly three hundred pounds of dried figs in his last New Jersey nut shop shipment (the self-same delivery that included my divine chocolate-covered dates) it was a simple matter to liberate some from his stash when his back was turned and whip up some fig and lemon chutney. If you think it's strange to include lemons in a chutney that will be served with cheese, I am happy to disabuse you. The lemon disappears during cooking, leaving only a pleasing acid tartness that makes you wonder, 'Hmmm. I wonder what that could be?'

The recipe is adapted from one in Well Preserved, by Mary Anne Dragon, a wonderful book full of awesome recipes that include all sorts of useful informational tidbits such as - oh, I don't know - actual instructions, yields, and what you might expect the final product to look like. This helpfulness stands in stark contrast to some other highly-regarded books I can call to mind.

Here's what you do to make delicious Fig and Lemon Chutney.

Assemble your mis en place. Jam is simple: we can all recall, can't we, that jam by definition includes only a few ingredients. Chutney, on the other hand, requires that one empty out the spice rack and pantry. Luckily, the same ingredients seem to pop up again and again, so a trip to the shops is unnecessary after the initial ingredients' investment. For this recipe, you need:

• 2 cups of thinly-sliced lemons (ends and seeds discarded), soaked overnight in a bowl of water
• 1 teaspoon whole allspice, 1 teaspoon whole cloves, and 3" cinnamon, tied up in a spice bag
• 1 pound of dried figs, topped and tailed and cut into quarters (I used half Black Mission and half Calimyrna so Sir would be less likely to notice any were missing)
• one-half cup of finely chopped onion
• one and one-half cups of cider vinegar
• three-quarters a cup of sugar
• one-half cup of honey (I recently acquired a jar of organic clover honey from an Amish gentleman and used that)
• one-quarter cup of chopped candied ginger
• one teaspoon of salt

Drain the lemons and put them and all the other ingredients into a big pan. Bring the mixture to a boil and simmer for about one and one-half hours. The recipe says it might need thinning before it's done so it doesn't stick to the pan too much, and mine did. I added some water mixed with orange/pineapple juice left over from my gala cheese and cocktails convention and it worked deliciously.

When it looks like chutney and all the ingredients are tender and delicious, discard the spice bag and decant the mixture into jars. I processed mine for 10 minutes out of force of habit, using my Leifheit jars since I had previously decided they require interesting-looking contents to relieve their hum-drumness. This glossy, fig-seed laden, chunky preserve fits the bill nicely.

I may not have done my homework, but I'm hoping I'll get an A for effort.