Apple coleslaw.

Growing up, I harboured an intense dislike for coleslaw. Cabbage (too bitter), vinegar (too sour) and mayonnaise (too much). Put off the entire concept, it wasn't until my late teens that I found myself trying it again out of politeness, when it was dolloped on my plate by a friend's mother at a barbecue. It was delicious. What had I been missing out on all these years?

To be fair to coleslaw, my tastebuds had obviously matured since childhood. But this home-made stuff was very different to the gloop I had been so assiduously avoiding in supermarkets and station sandwiches. For a start, the cabbage, carrot and onion were still crisp and identifiable as distinct vegetables. They were dressed, rather than submerged, in a creamy sauce that clearly contained mayonnaise, but not to the exclusion of all else. It was tangy, rather than vinegary. I was converted.

Nonetheless it was several years before I decided to make my own, inspired by reading Felicity Cloake's How to make perfect coleslaw. Since then I have made dozens of them, each slightly different depending on what it was to be accompanying, or - more realistically - what I happened to have at hand. So far as I'm concerned, the only essential ingredient of a coleslaw is cabbage.*

A whole cabbage makes a lot of coleslaw, once the ratios have been factored in, but fortunately it's one of those foodstuffs that is possibly even yummier eaten the next day, and even the day after that. But I confess I very rarely make it except for parties, barbecues or group picnics, as even aside from the resulting quantity, all that chopping takes time.

For the Glyndebourne picnic, I decided to make an apple coleslaw to complement the ham and reflect both the cider in the braising liquid and cider vinegar of the cucumber pickles. Obviously I would need cabbage and I nearly always include carrot in coleslaw. In the end I used half a white cabbage, six or seven carrots and three Granny Smith apples - my favourite kind.

I sliced the cabbage by hand and tossed it in well-salted cider vinegar. This softens the cabbage slightly without making it limp, and infuses it with that tanginess I remembered from my first proper coleslaw. While the cabbage was soaking I used a julienne peeler to cut the carrots into matchsticks. I will sometimes use the slice rather than grate setting of the food processor to shred the cabbage, but never the carrots; which end up as rounds if sliced, mush if grated.

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This done, I drained the cabbage, reserving the liquid. The cabbage was very vinegary, so I rinsed it in water which removed the excess pungency. I mixed up the carrot and cabbage and began cutting the apples, by far the most time consuming part of the process. I didn't peel them, as I wanted the apple to look obviously distinct from the cabbage. As I sliced each piece of apple I quickly dipped them in the cider vinegar to prevent oxidisation.

With all the vegetables (and fruit) prepared, I started on the dressing. I began by mixing mayonnaise with both English and wholegrain mustards: coleslaw classics and obvious pairings for the ham. I needed some acidity, but did not want any more vinegar than what was already in the cabbage and on the apples, so I added lemon juice. I gave it a stir and thinned the mixture to the consistency I wanted using extra virgin rapeseed oil. I stirred this mix through the shredded cabbage, carrot and apple, and tasted it. It needed quite a bit more salt, and a little more acidity to cut through the mayonnaise, so I adjusted accordingly. Just before packing the picnic up to go I added a handful of roughly chopped fresh parsley, theoretically tying the coleslaw to the potato salad and at minimum adding a bit of green.

Coleslaw rarely steals the show, but in the case of this meal it earned its place, contributing both creaminess and crunch. It worked well with the ham and the other elements of the meal. I was happy with the ratios of cabbage, carrot and apple. I could have got away with more mustard, but it didn't need more.

*On rereading Ms Cloake's article, I clearly took her views on the matter as gospel. The cabbage in question can be white or red. I'm flexible like that.