The flavor of salted fruit is reminiscent of its former unsalted self, but more aggressive. The sweetness is concentrated and acts as foil to the intense salinity. The aroma is more perfumed; like smelling a rose and then smelling rose essential oil, they are cut from the same cloth but a very different pattern.
There are a couple of exceptions to this method. For cherries, I leave the pits in for convenience; then like olives, I remove the pits just before serving, if at all. To make, I pack a quart jar full of cherries, add a tablespoon of salt, cover with cool water, and shake to dissolve the salt. Let sit at room temperature for one to eight hours, then place in the fridge.
Blueberries, the ever agreeable fruit, do well brined like cherries or packed in salt like plums. When packed in salt, the texture of the finished fruit is akin to capers, albeit very juicy, and I use them similarly. For petite fruit such as this, there’s no need to halve.
These salt preserves lend balanced sweetness and bracing salinity, which both come in handy in countless places. Think rich fatty foods—roast pork, seared salmon, gooey burrata. Think mild flavors—underripe tomatoes, steamed rice, summer squash, butter lettuce. Think slightly bitter foods—chicories, fennel, any of the brassicas. For chewy apricots or delicate plums, slice the salted fruit thinly or dice it finely and scatter it over your dinner.
Some of my favorite uses: Finish roast chicken with a salted plum, arugula, and shaved fennel salad, dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar. Whisk chopped, salted blueberries with a spoonful of whole grain mustard and olive oil to dress grilled salmon. Thinly slice salted apricots and combine with a bit of parsley and mint to top burrata, cut over grilled sourdough. Serve a bowl full of unadorned brined cherries alongside your tinto de verano or negroni. You’ve got it from here.
