chill out

No wonder there isn’t much room in the fridge when I’m trying to fit in a bowl full of macerating fruit: there’s already 14 jars of jam in various stages of eating in there, plus the pickle collection. Hmmm! Ah, well, the pumpkin marmalade should make a nice batch of River Cottage style truffles which I can probably trade for honey, or apples from the Monk’s House if I use white chocolate. It’s lovely knowing the tastes of your friends/neighbours/taste testing victims! Extra lemon zest here. A non-lime fan there. White chocolate fans here and there. But a batch of truffles will only use about half of one jar. Well, the Rhubarb & Pear will be lovely dolloped on yoghurt and muselie for tomorrow’s breakfast and I don’t really have to save the last of Tigress’ Plum Noir now that plums are coming into season again… that I’m quite happy to eat straight from the jar although I wouldn’t say no to some Brie should the fridge fairies produce some.

Anyway, no more testing new recipes until the old jams have come out of the chill.

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plant and just add water

I didn’t expect jam-making would become this big consuming thing complete with a webpage, an email address, an order placed for jars, and the perfectly justifiable expansion of my wardrobe to include Hell Bunny dresses as sales uniforms. I can’t even remember what my first jam was! But I do recognise, and admit, jamming has become an obsession. One symptom is purchashing plants to secure a supply of Meyer lemons, for instance, or rhubarb, or gooseberries. Well, I bought lavender yesterday solely for future Apricot & Lavender jams. I’ve also tipped all the apricot pits down the bank where I found some miraculous cherries seedlings sprouting. Who knows? Maybe there’ll be miraculous apricots in a year or two if the rain gods, possums, and wallabies are kind.

Speaking of rain gods… the clouds curdling the sky look hopeful. Better get that lavender in the ground.