About the service
I make nut butter the slow way, in runs of thirty to eighty jars, and I start where most of the taste is decided: the raw material. Every sack gets opened, poured out and looked at before anything else happens. I break kernels, smell them, taste a few from different parts of the lot. Nuts and sesame carry a lot of fat, and fat goes rancid quietly long before anyone sees a difference; a batch that smells faintly of old paint or wax cardboard goes back, because no amount of careful grinding will pull that out. I buy from the current harvest wherever I can and I keep the stock cold and dark until the day it goes into the drum.
Roasting is gentle and low. I am not chasing the dark, coffee-ish note you get from a hot fast roast — I want the kernel to dry evenly through the middle so the oil comes out of the cells easily, and I want the sweetness that sits just under the surface. A few degrees and a few minutes change the whole character of the finished jar, so I roast by smell and by cut-test rather than by a fixed timer, and I let the nuts cool completely before they go to the stones. For urbech I skip roasting entirely: raw seed or kernel, ground cold, which is the whole point of that style.
The grinding is done on stone wheels and it takes hours, not minutes. The stones turn slowly, the paste passes through again and again, and each pass breaks the cell walls a little further and releases a little more of the nut's own oil. That is why the finished paste pours without a drop of added oil — everything that makes it flow came out of the kernel itself. It also means the paste will separate in the jar: a layer of oil rises to the top after a week or two standing. That is the proof that there is nothing in there but nuts, and it is fixed in fifteen seconds with a table knife or a narrow spatula, stirred from the bottom up, after which the jar keeps just fine.
You choose the format: single-ingredient (nuts only), with a pinch of sea salt, or a sesame-and-nut blend. I do not add sugar, palm fat, emulsifiers or milk powder, and I make no health, medical or 'superfood' claims of any kind — this is food, not medicine. Every label carries the allergen warning in large type, because nuts and sesame are strong allergens: full ingredient list, production date, shelf life and storage conditions are printed on each jar. Glass jars with lacquered twist-off caps, hot-filled and capped straight away, wiped and labelled by hand.
What is included:
— sourcing the lot and testing it for rancidity before the run;
— gentle roast profiled for the specific nut, or fully raw for urbech;
— stone-grinding to your chosen texture, from coarse and rustic to fully pourable;
— filling into glass jars of 100, 200 or 350 g, capped and wiped;
— labelling with composition, date, shelf life, storage conditions and the allergen warning;
— a small tasting set from the batch and a short note on storage and stirring.
Minimum run is thirty jars of one recipe. Normal turnaround is about nine days from the day the nuts are approved: a day for sorting, a day for roasting and cooling, two to three for grinding and resting, the rest for filling, labelling and packing. Store cool and dark, away from the stove and the window; unopened it keeps for the period printed on the label, opened it is best used within a month.
Roasting is gentle and low. I am not chasing the dark, coffee-ish note you get from a hot fast roast — I want the kernel to dry evenly through the middle so the oil comes out of the cells easily, and I want the sweetness that sits just under the surface. A few degrees and a few minutes change the whole character of the finished jar, so I roast by smell and by cut-test rather than by a fixed timer, and I let the nuts cool completely before they go to the stones. For urbech I skip roasting entirely: raw seed or kernel, ground cold, which is the whole point of that style.
The grinding is done on stone wheels and it takes hours, not minutes. The stones turn slowly, the paste passes through again and again, and each pass breaks the cell walls a little further and releases a little more of the nut's own oil. That is why the finished paste pours without a drop of added oil — everything that makes it flow came out of the kernel itself. It also means the paste will separate in the jar: a layer of oil rises to the top after a week or two standing. That is the proof that there is nothing in there but nuts, and it is fixed in fifteen seconds with a table knife or a narrow spatula, stirred from the bottom up, after which the jar keeps just fine.
You choose the format: single-ingredient (nuts only), with a pinch of sea salt, or a sesame-and-nut blend. I do not add sugar, palm fat, emulsifiers or milk powder, and I make no health, medical or 'superfood' claims of any kind — this is food, not medicine. Every label carries the allergen warning in large type, because nuts and sesame are strong allergens: full ingredient list, production date, shelf life and storage conditions are printed on each jar. Glass jars with lacquered twist-off caps, hot-filled and capped straight away, wiped and labelled by hand.
What is included:
— sourcing the lot and testing it for rancidity before the run;
— gentle roast profiled for the specific nut, or fully raw for urbech;
— stone-grinding to your chosen texture, from coarse and rustic to fully pourable;
— filling into glass jars of 100, 200 or 350 g, capped and wiped;
— labelling with composition, date, shelf life, storage conditions and the allergen warning;
— a small tasting set from the batch and a short note on storage and stirring.
Minimum run is thirty jars of one recipe. Normal turnaround is about nine days from the day the nuts are approved: a day for sorting, a day for roasting and cooling, two to three for grinding and resting, the rest for filling, labelling and packing. Store cool and dark, away from the stove and the window; unopened it keeps for the period printed on the label, opened it is best used within a month.
