Mine is the lone dissenting voice in a family that loves ketchup. When we were growing up, my four siblings slathered ketchup over everything — bacon, meatloaf, fish sticks — except roast beef dinner on Sunday night. I believe it was banned on those occasions, even though my parents, too, were ketchup fans.
My family might object to the term “slathered,” but that’s how it appeared to me. I emphatically didn’t like ketchup, not the colour, not the loud, acidic tang. Yellow mustard, yes; relish, yes. Ketchup, never, not even on a burger.
I remember vividly a traumatic event in grade two at the end-of-year school picnic. My parents were away, and we had a live-in babysitter. She made our lunches and made them with care.
However, she did not know my tastes. In the break between running races and jumping into the pool, hungry and eagerly anticipating my sandwich, I opened the neatly folded waxed paper package. To find baloney on soft, fresh white bread saturated with ketchup, oozing red like a bandage in the sun. I was horrified.
Well. I have since moved on from the trauma, and can now accept ketchup on the table, even enjoy it, in tightly controlled circumstances. Combined with mayo, for example, for the dipping of French fries.
My roommate, though he grew up in a Scottish household ungraced by ketchup, has always had a fondness for the condiment. He is the one who introduced rosehip ketchup to our household. Now it is a staple.
Recently I went rummaging in the freezer, as one does at this time of year, making room, and found a bag of rosehips labelled “Sam McGee, September 2023. 6 cups.” I remember that day — we set out to pick highbush cranberries and found not a one, but there were tons of rosehips. We picked rosehips.
Six cups is exactly the amount you need for a batch of rosehip ketchup. My discovery was timely — we badly needed ketchup. My youngest brother was coming for a visit. This is the brother who, when asked by my mother to please, eat his vegetables, not just ketchup and meatloaf, replied, “Ketchup IS a vegetable.”
We were ready for him.
Rosehip Ketchup
Ingredients
- 6 cups rosehips stemmed, cleaned and rinsed
- 4 cups water divided
- 1 Tbsp olive oil
- 1 medium onion
- 1 clove garlic
- 1/2 tsp ground ginger
- 1/2 tsp ground cloves
- 1/2 tsp cayenne
- 1 tsp ground allspice
- 3/4 cup apple cider vinegar
- 3/4 cup sugar
- 1 tsp soya sauce
- 1 tsp salt
Instructions
- Combine rosehips and 3 cups water in a medium saucepan and bring to the boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium low, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes.
- Strain rosehips into a clean bowl and reserve liquid. Take another clean bowl and press cooked rosehips through the strainer into the bowl, pouring the reserved liquid over top in batches to help loosen the flesh from the seeds.
- Return rosehip pulp and seeds to the pot, add 1 cup (250 mL) water, bring to the boil, simmer for 2 minutes and press through the strainer again. You should be left with nothing but seeds in the strainer, and about 4½ cups of combined pulp and liquid. Discard seeds.
- Heat olive oil over medium heat in a clean saucepan and sauté onion until soft. Add garlic and spices and sauté for another minute. Add sugar, vinegar and rosehip puree, and stir to combine.
- Bring to the boil, reduce heat to medium low and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes. Remove from heat and blend until smooth with an immersion blender or in a food processor — if the latter, be careful when pouring to avoid burns.
- Return to the heat and continue to simmer until thick, about 10 minutes. Test by pouring a small amount onto a clean saucer and cooling for one minute. If the mixture holds its shape when you tilt the saucer, it’s ready.
- Pour into hot, sterilised jars, seal and process in a boiling water bath for 12 minutes. Refrigerate after opening. Store jars in a cool dark place and consume within six months.
