Pomegranate Molasses.

The sweet, sour, tangy fruit syrup I reach for to add interest and depth to both sweet and savoury recipes.

Welcome to ingredient, where once a month I take a deep dive into some of my favourite seasonal and store cupboard ingredients. This month I’m focusing on pomegranate molasses: the multi-dimensional fruit syrup essential for adding sourness to Middle Eastern-style recipes, but which I think deserves a home across a whole wealth of autumnal dishes.

For paid subscribers click here for my recipes for Liver and Onions with Pomegranate Molasses, Pomegranate Molasses Roasted Beetroot with Orange & Yogurt, and Pomegranate Braised Short Ribs.

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Like pretty much every Brit, I discovered Pomegranate Molasses when Yotam Ottolenghi brought out his cooking culture-changing Ottolenghi restaurant cookbook.

Suddenly this originally hard-to-find bottle became an essential - appearing just after Yotam had all the supermarkets scrambling to stock tahini - to make many of the recipes that graced many a dinner party table for at least the next decade once people had moved past the roasted vegetable and grain salad plates that paired sweet with savoury in a way that had not been mainstream before, using way more fresh herbs in one sitting than at the time came in a pack.

The ingredient note at the front of Ottolenghi: The Cookbook published in 2008 (and which according to Amazon which I purchased in 2012) where a small deli in Notting Hill opened in 2002 produced the cookbook which sparked Britain’s obsession with Middle Eastern cuisine. Naturally I disagree that Pomegranate Molasses should be used sparingly in sauces.

For me, pomegranate molasses is what I reach for when I’m trying to give something a bit of tang. I find it has the perfect balance of sweetness and sharpness, whilst still being capable of adding complex depth to any dish that is even vaguely of a Middle Eastern persuasion, and / or anywhere fresh pomegranate seeds can be found.

I think, 15 years on, we forget that Ottolenghi-mania was what drove the demand for so many of our now available-as-standard world ingredients to be easily accessible, spurring on the growth of the own brand world ingredients sections in supermarkets which are still exploding and expanding year on year.

So what exactly is pomegranate molasses?

Put simply, pomegranate molasses is a concentrated pomegranate syrup common among Middle Eastern cuisines. It is made by simmering down fresh pomegranate juice to create a thick, rich syrup. Sometimes sugar is added to help things along, but the very best pomegranate molasses is simply pure, unadulterated pomegranate juice.

Whilst I’ve tried some good Middle Eastern brands, if like me you’re based in the UK the very best one I’ve tried is Odysea Pomegranate Molasses (I’m a big fan of their Date Molasses, too). According to their website, one of their 250ml bottles started life as 340g of pomegranate juice.

You could also try making your own sometime, if you have a surfeit of good pomegranates, you’ve got a couple you forgot about lurking in the fruit bowl, or if you’re just curious.

How many more ingredients can you think of are capable of adding sweetness, sourness and acidity to one dish?

In my own kitchen, most often I’m reaching for it to drizzle over hummus (often on toast) with or without an accompanying scattering of pomegranate seeds for breakfast, but I use it in both sweet and savoury cooking. It makes it’s way into a lot of my salad dressings as it hits both those sweet and tart notes (it is a common vinegar substitute in such), and I’ve found it makes a great marinade for chicken when paired with allspice (though it is also a great partner for sumac, I use it in both my recipe for Spicy Sumac Cashews, and to finish and lift my Sumac Meringues with Fresh Raspberries) as it goes all sticky and tangy in the oven. That tang is what makes it so essential to a Syrian Bulgar Wheat Salad. Readers of One Pan Pescatarian will know it is stunning drizzled over tomatoes (fresh or cooked, or as I do in the book, a salad of both) as in such a context it takes the place of a much less astringent balsamic vinegar.

Aside from the aforementioned breakfast toast, I think the recipe of mine I’m most proud of featuring pomegranate molasses was this Ginger & Pomegranate Sandwich Cake I still bring along to Christmas-time gatherings and which was originally published as part of my now defunct online column for Borough Market. Without a generous drizzle of molasses between each layer it would just be a slightly sweet ginger sponge cake with an orange-spiked cream cheese frosting; the molasses adds a tang and a zing that lifts the whole cake into an occasion. It does the same thing on a much smaller scale in my Gingerbread & Pomegranate Dutch Baby Pancake.

For this months recipes I think I’ve created three dishes that really highlight how I put my trusty bottle of pomegranate molasses to work when I’m cooking for just me, or just us, rather for clients who prefer to use ‘commonly available ingredients’, even though decent pomegranate molasses now graces the shelves of most supermarkets, the Odysea one if you shop at Sainsbury’s (by the way, the Bart one is fine, but the Waitrose own brand one is frankly terrible.)

First up, we have brown food. I know you might turn your nose up at liver and onions as an example of why British cuisine has had such a bad rap over the years, but sweet caramelised onions with rich, almost mineral-ly chicken livers are a cheap breakfast, lunch or dinner I adore. If you’ve never cooked them before (or only every used them in chicken liver pate) this is the recipe for chicken livers on toast you need in your life, as stirring in a spoonful of pomegranate molasses at the ends turns everything sticky and special, the tanginess cutting through the liver whilst adding extra sweetness to the already soft tangle of onions.

Next, we’ve got something that is the total opposite with a pomegranate molasses-roasted beetroot salad that is simply a riot of autumnal reds, oranges and deep pinks. Roasting the beetroots - rather than boiling them which is my usual route - concentrates their flavour as they’re coated in the rich, garlicky molasses mix they’re wrapped in. Spooned over yogurt in a tangy dressing with roasted walnuts I’ve found you your favourite autumn side salad before it gets too cold for such things.

My final recipe is the only one out of the three I could not resist scattering with jewel-like pomegranate seeds.

If you only make one of these recipes this autumn / winter, make it my Pomegranate Braised Short Ribs. Essentially, you’re mimicking the process of making pomegranate molasses, but throwing some beef bits into the pan for good measure. Slow cooked, fall off the bone beef in a rich, sultry, slightly sliced, slightly tangy sauce (which the pomegranate molasses does not just flavour, but also makes wonderfully sticky) I serve these with either plain, or fruit, herb and nut studded wholewheat couscous (depending on my mood). You won’t believe once you taste it that all you’ve done is brown off some meat, stir in some ingredients, bung it in the oven and skim off some fat…