What do I do with mint? Recipe ideas for chutney, ice cubes and more

We’re probably all guilty of buying a bunch of mint for a drink that calls for just a sprig or two, then a week later ending up with the rest in the kitchen waste bin, that graveyard of well-intentioned food purchases.

After years of throwing away rotting mint and coriander, I’ve finally embraced the philosophy of South Asian cooking, where they’re cooked in bulk, frozen, pickled, preserved, or otherwise processed—in other words, doing everything possible to avoid food waste. And mint is one ingredient that encourages this approach. Its versatility and resilience allow it to be used at all stages of life and in all forms, meaning it can be preserved with as much or as little effort as your lifestyle allows. You can store mint in a variety of ways (or you can skip straight to the part about my favorite desi condiment: chutney).

Mint is suspiciously hard to kill. I speak from experience, as this weed once overran the backyard of one of the houses I share in London to the point where it seemed more like an invasion than an abundance. When I lived in Istanbul several years ago, it was the only plant in my garden that survived a summer hailstorm. So no special skills or tools are needed to easily replant potted mint in the garden.

For those of us who live in an apartment, I suggest avoiding the temptation to throw mint in the fridge in its original wrapping, as this can cause the leaves to become slimy and eventually mold. Instead, find a narrow glass (I use an old plastic protein shaker), fill it less than halfway with water (so the leaves don’t get wet), add the mint, and leave it in the fridge. Stored this way, mint can last for weeks, as long as you replace the water every few days so it doesn’t spoil. Alternatively, you can loosely wrap the mint in a damp, wrung-out paper towel and store it in a food-safe wax, silicone, or plastic bag in the fridge—this method will also give you fresh mint for weeks.

When you’re preparing mint for the fridge, I highly recommend grabbing a dozen leaves, rinsing them, and drying them to make mint ice cubes. Just add a leaf, and maybe a slice of lemon for a little something extra, to each ice cube mold before filling with water. Ice trays are also a great way to prepare and store blended mint (or cilantro).

Frozen blended mint or cilantro cubes are so easy to make – you just have to get through the tedium of plucking, washing and drying the leaves before blending them with as little water as possible. Add a little oil to help keep them fresh and divide the mixture into an ice cube tray. Think of these as flavour bombs – you can add them to the blender for a frozen margarita or to ayran, a salty Turkish yoghurt drink. I frequently add them to raita, the queen of condiments, which goes quite well with biryani, chilli and rice pudding., Samosas and wings. I let the cube soften while I whisked some yogurt with salt and garlic and then added to taste.

But my favorite use for mint is green chutney. Together with fresh cilantro, they make the perfect pair for making this staple desi condiment. When I was growing up, there was always a jar of homemade green chutney next to the mustard and ketchup in the fridge, and more in the freezer. There are hundreds of ways to make it. And there is no single correct recipe, but rather it is guided by taste. Therefore, I suggest you follow some basic tips:

  • A 1:1 ratio of mint and coriander, leaves and tender stems washed and dried.
  • As many peeled garlic cloves as you can take, without going overboard.
  • As many washed and chopped green chillies as you can get your hands on, but they must be the kind that make you cry, usually found in South Asian or East Asian stores, or at Weee!.
  • Some dried pomegranate seeds for acidity; amchur also works in case of emergency.
  • A dash or two of oil will prolong the life of the chutney: coconut oil gives it a subtle perfume, olive oil blends in with the spicy touch and mustard is for the brave who can taste the bitter notes.
  • A little salt, of course.

Blend the ingredients in batches, adding the minimum amount of water needed to get the blades working. Taste, adjusting the proportions to your desired levels of heat, salt, and spiciness, then continue blending and tasting throughout the process. Next time I make chutney, I plan to add some freshly grated coconut and see what happens. Some people prefer more mint for freshness, while others prefer a flavor profile with more coriander. There’s no one way to do it.

Decant the chutney in a jar and refrigerate. The chutney will keep for weeks, as long as you never use a dirty or wet spoon to serve it. You can also freeze it; if you do, my advice is to add olive oil, vinegar or lemon before freezing as a low-effect preservative.

One of my chutney projects this summer was inspired by Lapis, an Afghan restaurant in Washington, D.C., and a craving for a chutney sandwich. Like the pesto, the restaurant’s green chutney relied on walnuts for texture, and it got me thinking: Why not transform chutney into pesto for… focaccia?

If we deconstruct a good chutney sandwich, it’s chutney, a layer of something rich and fatty, and In fact Good bread. So I took half of my chutney mise en place, swapped the pomegranate seeds for sunflower seeds, and added generous drizzles of Palestinian olive oil to make a chutney pesto. I then folded the pesto in into my focaccia dough and prayed to my oven not to let me down. The result? My less than perfect baked focaccia is now the bread for my new, more intense chutney sandwich; also makes a delicious Bombay style toasted sandwich.

Weeks after I had used, prepared and stored the mint I bought for the focaccia with chutney, I discovered it was wrapped in kitchen paper inside a wax bag. It was dry, but still alive. I sprinkled it over some chickpeas with harissa sauce, very satisfied to know that I was not only adopting the waste-free spirit of Pakistani cuisine, but also evolving the desi legacy of using and preserving ingredients by adding new ways to make the most of the humble, everlasting mint.

Halima Mansoor is a breaking news editor who sees the kitchen as a revolutionary space. As well as documenting food, she is on a mission to trace her culinary heritage, explore immigrant cuisine and initiate more people into the Marmite club.
Dilek Baykara is a Turkish-American illustrator, print designer, and adventurous foodie living in Brooklyn, New York.



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