If I say fruit preserves, perhaps you picture a sticky jar of strawberry jam or a chock-full container of apple butter. But fruit preserves can be salty too. The process is arguably even easier, since there’s no cooking involved. And the result is versatile enough to deploy in breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
My first experience with salted fruit was preserved lemons. I never thought about applying the technique to other ingredients until tasting umeboshi, Japanese pickled plums. Now I salt-cure all sorts of fruit, from plums and apricots to cherries and blueberries. It’s a wonderful way to extend summer’s bounty beyond September.
Though there are some outliers, depending on the ingredient, the method is roughly the same: Halve or quarter the fruit. Remove the seeds or pits. Pack a layer into a big clean container (for me, that’s a half-gallon glass jar sterilized in the dishwasher). Cover with salt (either kosher salt or sea salt, just avoid table salt). Then add another layer and repeat until you’re out of either fruit or space in the jar. The salt will leach the liquid from the fruit and make a brine.
The fruit should sit in that brine for about a week, until the fruit is firm and the color has darkened by a couple shades. If your kitchen is especially warm, this process will move along more swiftly, so keep an eye out. I like to tip the jar upside down a couple times every couple days to be sure the fruit is evenly coated in the brine. Even a bit of attention seems to improve the end result. After the fruit is cured, store it in the fridge in an airtight jar; it will keep for up to one month.
The flavor of salted fruit is reminiscent of its former unsalted self, but more aggressive. The sweetness is concentrated and acts as foil to the intense salinity. The aroma is more perfumed; like smelling a rose and then smelling rose essential oil, they are cut from the same cloth but a very different pattern.
There are a couple of exceptions to this method. For cherries, I leave the pits in for convenience; then like olives, I remove the pits just before serving, if at all. To make, I pack a quart jar full of cherries, add a tablespoon of salt, cover with cool water, and shake to dissolve the salt. Let sit at room temperature for one to eight hours, then place in the fridge.
Blueberries, the ever agreeable fruit, do well brined like cherries or packed in salt like plums. When packed in salt, the texture of the finished fruit is akin to capers, albeit very juicy, and I use them similarly. For petite fruit such as this, there’s no need to halve.
These salt preserves lend balanced sweetness and bracing salinity, which both come in handy in countless places. Think rich fatty foods—roast pork, seared salmon, gooey burrata. Think mild flavors—underripe tomatoes, steamed rice, summer squash, butter lettuce. Think slightly bitter foods—chicories, fennel, any of the brassicas. For chewy apricots or delicate plums, slice the salted fruit thinly or dice it finely and scatter it over your dinner.
Some of my favorite uses: Finish roast chicken with a salted plum, arugula, and shaved fennel salad, dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar. Whisk chopped, salted blueberries with a spoonful of whole grain mustard and olive oil to dress grilled salmon. Thinly slice salted apricots and combine with a bit of parsley and mint to top burrata, cut over grilled sourdough. Serve a bowl full of unadorned brined cherries alongside your tinto de verano or negroni. You’ve got it from here.