Krentjebrij (Groninger Fruit Porridge)

In the far north-east of the Netherlands — Groningen, Drenthe, the sandy east — a bowl of krentjebrij is not a dessert so much as supper. Deep ruby, glossy, thick with swollen currants and raisins, it is the fruit porridge that generations of farming families ate in the evening with bread, warming and filling and cheap. Its name says everything: krenten, currants, and brij, porridge — a dish built around the dried fruit a northern larder always kept.

A porridge of the sandy soils

The east of the Netherlands lived on slow, grain-based farm cooking long after the wealthy west had moved on to richer fare, and krentjebrij belongs squarely to that world. Barley, the northern grain, gives the body; dried fruit, stored from the year's abundance, gives the sweetness; and berry juice, pressed from the currants that grew in every kitchen garden, gives the colour and the lift. By the nineteenth century it was firmly a regional signature, eaten warm in winter and cold in summer, and it remains a genuine taste of home for people from Groningen and Drenthe.

Set, but only just

What separates a northern brij from a plain porridge is the berry juice and the bind. The bessensap does double duty — it colours the whole pot a beautiful red and brings the sweet-sour tension that keeps all that soft fruit and barley from tasting cloying. A spoonful of potato starch pulls it to a light, quivering set, glossy and just holding its shape. Judge it loose: it firms considerably as it cools, and cold krentjebrij should still yield softly to the spoon.

A bowl of red porridge, a slice of bread, and the long northern evening — supper, the way the sandy country ate it.

Serve it however the mood asks: warm and comforting straight from the pan, or cold and set from the fridge, perhaps with a little cold milk poured over to marble the ruby surface.