Pressed once, cold, in a wooden ghani, so it keeps the sharp nose that makes a fish curry or a pickle sing. Unrefined and unfiltered — let it settle.
Pressed, potted & put up by hand.
Batch 112 — strawberry, filled on Tuesday morning.
Four shelves, one larder
Everything we make lives on one of four shelves. Pull a drawer to see only what is on it.
On the shelves this week
Twelve jars and bottles from the latest batches. Each label is dated on the day it is filled; when a batch is gone, it comes back with the season.
12jars on the shelves
Oils
Cold- and wood-pressed, unrefined, and a finishing oil or two.
0 jarsNothing on this shelf yet.
Preserves
Jams and murabba cooked in copper, one pan at a time.
0 jarsNothing on this shelf yet.
Sauces
Fermented chilli, Bengali kasundi and a sweet-sour saunth.
0 jarsNothing on this shelf yet.
Spreads
Raw hill honey and thick-cut marmalade.
0 jarsNothing on this shelf yet.
Everything we make
12 jarsMild, nutty and pale gold. For tempering, for dressing a salad, or a spoon over hot rice with a pinch of salt.
A finishing oil: groundnut oil steeped for a week with Nilgiri lemon peel and cracked Malabar pepper. Pour it over dal, eggs or grilled vegetables.
Whole berries from the Mahabaleshwar plateau, cooked fast in a copper pan with just enough sugar to set. Soft, bright and not too sweet.
Deep purple and a little tart, with a whisper of black salt like the jamun you ate on the way home from school. Good with cheese.
Whole Indian gooseberries pricked by hand and slow-cooked in jaggery with cardamom until they turn amber. One a day, the old way.
Our everyday hot sauce: fresh bird’s-eye chillies fermented for three weeks with garlic, then blended with cane vinegar. Hot, clean and fruity.
Mustard seed soaked, ground and left to mellow with green mango and mustard oil, the way it is made in Bengal. For fish fry, sandwiches and samosas.
A thick, glossy saunth of tamarind and jaggery with roasted cumin and dry ginger. Chaat, pakoras, or a glaze for roast vegetables.
Gathered from hives on the slopes around Coonoor after the monsoon flowering. Raw and unheated, so it may set in the cold — that is how you know.
Nagpur oranges, peel and all, cut thick and cooked slowly so the bitterness stays. Toast, butter, a strong cup of tea.
A dark, malty honey from bees kept among the coffee in Coorg, for the two weeks the blossom is out each year.
Nothing on this shelf right now.
Forty jars at a time
Every batch goes through the same four steps, start to finish in our own kitchen.
Wrapped like it is going to a friend
Come and taste a spoonful
The kitchen shop opens onto Bedford Circle. Come and taste from the open jars, or write to us about a hamper, a wedding order or what is coming next season.
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