Pontack - An Elderberry sauce

Pontack is a venerable old English sauce that has been knocking around for at least 300 years. A slightly sharp but sweet reduction made from elderberries and spices. It’s the perfect accompaniment to rich gamey meat

It appears to have been first served in London’s Lombard Street in the 17th century. Named after its originator, Monsieur Pontack, proprietor of the eponymous Pontack’s Head Tavern, which according to André Simon was ‘London’s first fashionable eating house’. Jonathan Swift (author of Gulliver’s Travels) "found the wine dear at seven shillings a flagon". Proving perhaps that some things in London remain eternal.

We came across Pontack whilst researching what to serve with pigeon breasts at last weekend’s ‘Montpelier Basement’ (Our Bristol supper club). Elderberries are everywhere around our area right now, and it seemed like the perfect choice.

Famously Pontack is supposed to keep incredibly well, up to seven years in fact, maturing and mellowing with age. This fact is what actually put us off following any of the published recipes…we wanted to use it the next day and we weren’t entirely sure how it would taste after such a comparatively short time.

So, after much umming and ahhhing we ended up making a semi-bastardised recipe of our own, a sort of Pontack’esque elderberry reduction. Success! It was absolutely bloody gorgeous.

Montpelier Basement Pontack

Makes (after being reduced by half to serve) …350ml

You’ll need: -
450ml Water
650g of de-stalked and washed Elderberries
180ml Red Wine Vinegar
200g Golden Caster Sugar
5 Shallots – finely chopped
4 Cloves
4 Allspice berries
¾ Whole Nutmeg – grated
2 tsp cracked black peppercorns
Pinch of salt


First strip and wash your elderberries from the stalks (The stalks are actually slightly toxic, small bits are fine, but don’t leave any large bits in). Dan’s first rule of cooking is ‘don’t poison yourself’…. perhaps you should mutter this gently to yourself as you carry on making the rest of the sauce. By the way, the easiest way to strip the berries is to use a fork. Easy.

Next, put the sugar and red wine vinegar in a pan, and heat gently until the sugar dissolves. Turn up the heat slightly, and boil until it slightly thickens and becomes ‘syrupy’.

Add the water, elderberries, shallots and all the spices. Stir and simmer for 5 mins and strain through a fine sieve.

If using straight away, reduce by half.


If not, pour into a prepared sterilised jar, it should keep for a good while (maybe even seven years…. but seeing as we’ve messed with the recipe, don’t hold us to that!). But, and this is the main thing…. It’s absolutely cracking to use right away, just reduce it a bit before serving… to get it nice, thick and glossy. You’ll only need about a tablespoon per person, so this amount makes about enough for 30 odd portions. Its a perfect accompaniment to game birds and also supposedly very good with liver or kidneys.

Blackberries – Or how to maim yourself making jam

A somewhat melodramatic title you may be thinking?

Not if you were a fly on the wall last Sunday in the Bristol kitchen I share with 'E'. You would have observed us ducking and dodging spitting globules of bubbling, scalding hot sugary jam erupting volcanically from swirling purple depths of death. Meanwhile, if this didn't present quite enough danger, we heroically manhandled a ridiculousy oversized, steaming hot cauldron of water, attempting to sterilise the Kilner jars. Frankly I'm amazed neither of us suffered life threatening burns.

Our thoughts on jam making, after surviving this trial?
“Holy shit, how do little old ladies manage it?”

Thinking about it whilst nursing frazzled nerves and singed fingers, the whole process from start to finish was fraught with danger. It being the season, we foraged our blackberries from a winding, inner city footpath often frequented by some of the less savoury characters of Bristol society – yes you unwashed, baggy hole ridden jumpered, dreadlocked eco-warriors, I'm looking in your direction. The utter bastards had been there already and picked over the brambles, leaving us with no option but to take ever increasing risks to procure the really juicy berries. This involved variously; amateur acrobatics, rock climbing railway arches, stretching through impossibly tiny gaps in railings and pulled muscles all round. Add to this numerous scratches from brambles, stings from nettles and screams (from me) as I avoided countless whopping spiders and you might say a fun afternoon was had by all.

Yes, the risks and associated dangers are huge – but dear readers, so are the rewards. The satisfaction you get from making a huge pot of tasty jam, made almost entirely from gratis ingredients is enough to make a grown man blubber with pride. That's not to mention the blackberry and ginger puddings and 'E's' incredibly good blackberry crumble cake.

Altogether, after three hours of foraging we amassed just over a kilo of berries (our foraging careers will not make us millionaires). We set aside the majority for our jam making exercise, a handful for the steamed puddings and the rest for the cake.


First the jam. I've already mentioned the sheer health and safety nightmare involved in its making, so I won't go into too much detail except to say that we used the Ballymaloe recipe using apples to boost the pectin levels (blackberries are notoriously low in pectin and therefore difficult to make set successfully – check out my mungus jam making brain).

The jam we produced was pretty damn good for a first attempt, and just over half a kilo and one apple made enough so that we'll be eating it for months (if we managed to sterilise the jar correctly and it doesn't go mouldy).

The baked blackberry and stem ginger puddings are a Skye Gyngell recipe from the rather excellent 'A year in my kitchen' and only require three or four blackberries per person, so therefore perfect for the less successful and committed foragers out there.

The recipe is quick to make and absolutely cracking,


Baked blackberry and stem ginger pudding

Serves 4

You'll need:-

100g unsalted butter, softened. Plus extra to grease
100g caster sugar
2 eggs
100g self raising flour
finely grated zest of two lemons
4 knobs of preserved stem ginger in syrup, drained and finely chopped
Pinch of salt
4 Tbsp golden syrup
12 blackberries

Preheat the oven to 180C.
Butter four individual pudding basins and set aside.
Cream the butter and sugar together until pale and smooth. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Sift in the flour, and fold in gently. Add the lemon zest, stem ginger and a restrained pinch of salt. Fold in until evenly mixed.

Put 1 Tbsp of golden syrup and 3 blackberries into each pudding mould and spoon the sponge mixture on top. Cover each mould loosely with a piece of buttered foil and stand the moulds on a backing tray.
Bake for 30 mins until well risen and cooked through.
Run a knife around each pudding and turn out onto a warmed plate.


The following evening and not sick of foraged berries yet, with the remaining haul, I helped 'E' bake a frigging superb crumble cake, using her own recipe.


'E's' blackberry crumble cake

Serves 6

You'll need:-

140g self raising flour
½ Tsp ground ginger
50g caster sugar
1 egg
4 Tbsp milk
85g salted butter, melted.
250-300g blackberries

For the topping:-

25g plain flour
¼ Tsp ground ginger
25g caster sugar
25g cold butter, diced


Preheat the oven to 180C
Butter a 7” cake tin and line the base with greaseproof paper.
Sift flour, ginger and sugar together.
Into a well in the centre, pour the egg, milk and melted butter. Mix well and pour into the tin.
Smooth surface and scatter the blackberries over evenly.

Make the topping by rubbing all of the ingredients together with your fingertips to make a crumble mixture.
Scatter the topping over the blackberries and bake for 35-45 mins until the cake is firm and the surface is golden.


It tastes great warm, straight from the oven but keeps well, covered, for at least a couple of days.

So, there's still loads of blackberries out there on the bushes, just waiting for you to rip your hands to bits on the thorns or give yourself a hernia reaching for that really elusive plump specimen, so get out there and try not to hospitalise yourselves too much.