When I began to imagine this post, it was with the idea that there was not much of a memory storyline behind the recipe I am sharing today. All that had come to mind when a friend gifted me a basket of plums, and I wondered what I could make with them, was that I would pluck the tiny, country variety from trees in Ooty during our summertime holidays when I was growing up… And then, before I knew it, an abundance of recollections came flooding back – of reaching with my own hands for something to eat, raw and delicious and freshly-plucked. Before I get carried away with those reminiscences, let me just say that the recent occasion of Thanksgiving, which is important to my American friends and family, as well as the upcoming Christmas season also gave me inspiration. The plum relish that is traditionally enjoyed during those festivities has been Indianised in my home as plum chutney, and that’s the recipe that this trip down memory lane will culminate in.

The gift basket I received contained what I call “the millennial plum”, a delicious hybrid cultivar which is large and has a deep maroon colour. It usually tastes sweet. The country plums of my childhood, by contrast, were sour and tangy. They came in an orangeish shade and were relatively tiny. Still, as little children, my siblings, cousins, friends and I absolutely delighted in them. There was just a certain immense joy in picking fruits right off a branch and eating them unwashed. There was a rawness to the experience that brought us closer to Nature. Even the sourest fruit was enjoyed in this way.

Fruit-picking was always a thrilling activity for us, both with and without permission. When we had the chance to go abroad for holidays with our aunt, she would give us baskets of our own and take us to strawberry farms, where we would spend the day indulging this hobby of ours to the fullest. We would cherish and guard those baskets full of fresh, ripe fruit. Every last berry was special, plucked with our own hands, and tasted all the more delicious for this reason.

Back home, far from the hills of Tamil Nadu or the strawberry farms of Europe, we still pursued our fruit-gathering in earnest. We would run loose in our neighbourhood and steal mangoes from the trees, as I think I’ve mentioned a number of times on this blog before. It was certainly one of our favourite past-times, even if scoldings were a natural consequence!

The fruit-bearing local naatu cherry tree and the nellika or gooseberry tree were two that I grew up under, and to this day the sight of either of these can make me feel a bit emotional. The gooseberry tree in our garden was laden with kambilipoochis (hairy caterpillars), which would invariably leave a hair or two on me when I reached up to grab those fruits, and I would have to go crying to my mother to get her to remove those caterpillar hairs! Those naatu (country) cherries weren’t the beautiful, glossy-looking ones that top my cakes today, but a small, orange-coloured variety with a tiny, grain-like seed inside. There was also a black-coloured berry, sour and with a high Vitamin C content, with a name that slips my mind. These local, edible fruits were so plentiful in Chennai in those days, available to anyone who knew how to climb a tree.

I’ve spoken before of how much I long to revive different varieties of plants and flowers in our little farmland. I really believe that some of our green wealth is disappearing, and it hurts to find proof of it, as I did when I went looking for wood-apple recently. I dream of planting the trees of some of the fruits I plucked and ate in childhood. I’ve started the process by asking everyone I know for cuttings. Would you have some – of any kind of fruit, flower or plant that seems to be scarce in and around Chennai these days, but which you remember from before? I only specify Chennai because the cutting needs to be suitable to our climate.

The more time I spent reminiscing, the more I remembered: not only did we love eating freshly plucked (and sometimes stolen) fruit, but we even foraged for plants and flowers! The three leaf clover that grows like a weed was one of these. We’d just pop one into our mouths and enjoy its sour, earthy taste. There were also certain flowers, like the gorgeous orange trumpet flower, which we would suck the nectar out of after removing the stem. Did you do any of these activities growing up, when it seemed like we played in the outdoors so much more than the children of today do?

Let me bring this little trip down memory lane, lined with fruit-bearing trees, full circle by coming back to the gift of plums. In India, you can make a chutney with pretty much anything, and I was curious to try out this fruity one. My husband is a big fan of chutneys, and will even have some on the side with a pasta, so I know for a fact that this plum chutney is very versatile. You can also roll it up in a chapatti for a tiffin box, or spread it on toast. It has a sweet, spicy flavour that lends itself as an accompaniment to many dishes.

Plum Chutney

(Yield: 350 grams)

500 grams plums

150 grams sugar

1 small onion

⅛ teaspoon ginger powder

1 star anise

Salt to taste

2 teaspoons dry chili flakes

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

Lemon zest

Plums are a succulent fruit with a vast number of health benefits, from improving cardiovascular health to reducing the risk of osteoporosis to promoting skin health. They are packed with Vitamin C and Vitamin A, as well as antioxidants and minerals. They have been grown since ancient times, and the hybrid types we get today thrive in various places in India – which means we are fortunate that the market is abundantly flooded with them too.

This plum chutney is very simple to prepare, but requires one step of overnight prep. Chop the plums and discard the seeds. Add sugar to the fruit pieces, and cover with a lid. Allow to soak and refrigerate overnight, as this will reduce the cooking time.

The following day, add all the remaining ingredients to the sugar-soaked fruit. Boil on a medium flame. I lightly blended the mixture with a hand blender to break down and bring the flavours together.

Allow to simmer until the chutney thickens. Then, allow to cool.

With a clean spoon, transfer the plum chutney into a clean jar and refrigerate. As long as dry spoons are used and the container is refrigerated, a batch can be kept for up to a couple of weeks.

You may serve it with cheese as they do in the West, or with chapatti as I do at home, but either way, I hope a jar of it finds a place at your table this Christmas – and I hope you’ll simply relish it!