There are few crops on a British allotment that give as much back for as little fuss as beetroot. Sow a row in April or May and by late summer you are pulling roots the size of a good fist, with more still swelling in the ground. The trouble is that they all seem to arrive at once. You can boil, roast and grate your way through a fair few, but sooner or later you are standing in the kitchen with a glut and wondering what on earth to do with the rest.
Pickling is the answer. A jar of home-pickled beetroot, dark and glossy in its spiced vinegar, is one of the great pleasures of a British larder. It keeps for months, improves with a few weeks of maturing, and turns a summer glut into something you will be glad to see on a plate in January alongside cold ham, a sharp Cheddar or a baked potato. If you have never done it, start with a couple of jars. You will soon be doing a dozen.
Almost any beetroot will pickle well, but the round, deep red types are the traditional choice. Boltardy, Detroit Crimson Globe and Pablo are reliable, and they hold their colour beautifully. Golden varieties pickle into something startlingly pretty, though they look less like the beetroot your grandmother made. Chioggia, with its pink and white rings, bleeds its colour into the vinegar and turns a rather murky shade, so it is better eaten fresh.
Size matters more than variety. The ideal pickling beetroot is between a golf ball and a tennis ball — roughly 5cm to 8cm across. Anything larger tends to be woody in the middle and takes an age to cook. Lift them as you need them, and do not leave them in the ground hoping for whoppers.
Put the unpeeled roots in a large pan, cover with cold water, add a good pinch of salt and bring to the boil. Simmer gently, lid ajar, until a skewer slides in with no resistance. Small roots take 40 minutes; larger ones can take an hour and a half. Top up with boiling water from the kettle if the pan runs dry.
Drain and leave until cool enough to handle, then rub the skins off with your fingers or a piece of kitchen paper. Wear rubber gloves unless you want pink hands for a day. Trim the stalks and root, and slice into 3mm to 5mm rounds, or cut into wedges if you prefer a chunkier pickle. Roasting the roots wrapped in foil at 200°C for an hour gives a sweeter, denser result, and is worth trying if you have the oven on anyway.
The vinegar is where the character comes from, so do not rush it. For every 1kg of prepared beetroot you will want roughly 600ml of vinegar and 100g to 150g of sugar, depending on how sharp you like it. Malt vinegar is the classic British choice; cider vinegar is gentler and fruitier.
Warm the vinegar in a stainless steel or enamelled pan — never aluminium, which reacts and turns everything grey — with the sugar and your spices. A good basic blend per 600ml is:
Bring just to the point of steaming, not a rolling boil, then take off the heat and leave to infuse for at least a couple of hours, or overnight for a deeper flavour. Strain if you want a clear pickle, or leave the spices in for a more rustic jar.
Use jars with vinegar-proof lids — the plastic-coated metal ones sold for preserving are ideal. Wash them in hot soapy water, rinse, then sterilise in an oven at 140°C for 15 minutes, or run them through a hot dishwasher cycle and use them straight away while still warm.
Pack the sliced beetroot into the warm jars, pressing down gently but firmly so there are no big air pockets. Pour over the spiced vinegar, making sure it covers the beetroot by at least 1cm. Run a knife around the inside of the jar to release trapped bubbles, top up if needed, and seal. For longer storage, stand the sealed jars in a pan of water and simmer for 10 minutes, then leave to cool.
Put the jars somewhere cool and dark and try to leave them alone for two to three weeks. The beetroot needs that time to absorb the spice and lose its raw sharpness. Unopened, they will keep for six to twelve months; once opened, keep them in the fridge and use within a month.
After that, it is simply a matter of eating them — with cold meats, in a doorstep sandwich with strong cheese, chopped into a winter salad with walnuts, or alongside a hot baked potato. A jar of your own beetroot, opened in the depths of February, is one of the small triumphs of growing your own.
Gate & Furrow shares practical, down-to-earth guidance on british kitchen gardening and allotment growing for readers across the UK.
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