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.


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.