Strawberry season was a glorious one this year, starting early and lasting a long time.   From the very first quart of local strawberries I saw  – or rather smelled – in early May, I vowed to savor them more than ever.  Somehow  that sweet ripe fragrance got in my nose and stayed there, keeping the craving constant for these morsels of juicy ruby heaven.   I never did get my fill, even after more than a dozen quarts! 

While it was a bit expensive buying my strawberries from fellow vendors at the farmers market, I felt it was a worthwhile indulgence for fresh eating, particularly after a long hot day of selling my flowers.  I wasn’t quite willing to fork over more than $6 a quart (really) to make my annual stash of strawberry jam though so I wait until I visited my parents in rural central Pennsylvania to stop by a nearby produce farm that had generous quarts of super-ripe berries for a mere three bucks.   I greedily grabbed five quarts, though only four somehow ended up in Philly after the three hour drive back.  Musta been a hole in the car console or maybe a stow away squirrel on board…

In any case, to send off strawberry season in style, I made a luscious batch of jam scented with a vanilla bean and cooked to a perfect consistency.   Jam making really is quite easy, especially when you have a simple recipe that doesn’t require that dreaded pack of pectin that never seems to be on city store shelves.   If you haven’t tried making your own homemade jam or jelly before (by the way, jam in chunky, jelly is strained to be smooth), this is the perfect one to try since it’s really very simple.  The only trick to making sure the jam thickens is to let it boil vigorously, which means you’ll be needing a very large pot to keep it from spilling over and making a mess of your stove. 

Slathered on a fresh thick slice of bread from a loaf given to me by another farmers market vendor,  I decided strawberry season wasn’t really ending after all.  This jam is so full of fresh berry flavor, I’ll feel like I’m eating a ripe strawberry when I crack open a jar in December. 

Homemade Strawberry Jam

5 C. crushed strawberries*
4 1/2 C. granular sugar
1/3 C. fresh squeezed lemon juice
1 vanilla bean, scraped

*I used about 3 quarts of whole ripe berries to get this amount of crushed.

Gently wash berries, cut off the tops, and place in a large bowl to mash up with a potato masher or large fork.  Measure out berries into a very large heavy pot to confirm you have five cups.  Use a very large pot because the jam will expand while boiling.  Add the sugar, lemon juice and vanilla bean scrapings. 

Place three small plates in the freezer.

Stir mixture and set over low heat until the sugar is dissolved.  Increase the heat to high and stay with the pot because the jam will begin to intensely boil.  Stir regularly to keep the bottom from burning.  Boil rapidly for about 10 minutes until you notice some resistance when stirring. 

Place a small amount of jam on one of the cold plates and place back in the freezer for a minute.  Run your finger through the middle of the dab of jam.  If it doesn’t run back together, the jam is ready.  If it does run back together, continue to boil the jam for another minute or two and try testing it again. 

Transfer jam to hot sterile jars (simmer jars in a large pot of water while making the jam), leaving a 1/4 inch to 1/2 inch headspace at the top of the jar.  Seal with sterile lids and turn upside down on a dish towel to cool.

When jars are completely cool, test the lids.  If they spring back when pressed, they have not sealed; store those jars in the fridge.  Jars with taut lids are sealed and can be stored in the cupboard until opened. 

(makes about 6 pints)

Well, I don’ t know about where you are, but here it’s proving to be the perfect weekend to tuck in and get some things done around the house because, well, there’s really no other choice.  In my humble opinion, a couple dozen inches of snow are a wonderful excuse to be a little lazy and perhaps a little bit productive too as your mood suits you throughout the day.   Cups of tea and bowls of soup are also necessary amenities for snow days, and I’ve had plenty of both. 

But while the rest of the city was running rabid to the store last night, desperately nabbing food to get them through the weekend of snow drifts, I was able to just walk down the steps to my basement and look over my shelves of preserved goodies that have been such a treat over this entire winter:  pears, peaches, beans, jams, and pickled beets.  That’s right…pickled beets.  Ever had such a thing? 

I suspect pickled beets are a culinary colloquialism, part of my Pennsylvania Dutch heritage, but I could be wrong.  All I really know is that I love them, though that wasn’t always the case.  When I was a girl, my mom would make large batches of jars full of bright pink chunks of pickled beets, and it was my job to cart them down the narrow stairs to our root cellar to fill the cupboards there.   I’m not sure if it was resentment for all the lugging or just the underdeveloped tastes of a kid, but pickled beets equaled “yuck!” in my young mind.    Oddly enough, I don’t think we ever ate fresh beets, roasted or otherwise, when I was growing up. 

Somewhere along the way, I got over my foolish hang-up about pickled beets and grew to appreciate them for what they are: a delicious sweet and savory treat that, when eaten in a snow storm, reminds me of the sunny autumn days when I plucked those very same beets out of the warm fragrant earth.  In a few months, all this snow will have been melted away and it will be time to plant more beets again.  They make a perfect spring crop to put in your garden as soon as you can get out there and start scratching out some rows.   Be sure to buy plenty of seed so you’ll have enough for a second crop in the fall to make jars full of jewel-toned pickles of your own for next winter.  

Pickled Beets

Begin by cleaning and trimming your fresh beets.  Place in a heavy saucepan and cover with water.  Boil until fork tender.  Remove from heat and let cool enough to make handling them easy.  Slip the skins off and chop the cooked beets into evenly sized wedges.

Sterilize pint jars and lids either in the dishwasher or in a boiling water bath on the stove.  Let jars cool enough to handle and then pack them full of cooked beets. 

In a saucepan on high heat, make a boiling syrup of:

2 C. sugar
2 C. water
1 C. vinegar
1 1/2 t. salt

Pour hot syrup over the beets in the jars until they are covered and there is about an 1/8 inch of “head space” left at the top.  Seal tightly with lids.  Place jars in a big kettle/pot and fill with enough water to cover the jars by a 1/2 inch.  Place over high heat and process until the water has been at a boil for five minutes.  Remove jars from water and allow to cool on a kitchen towel.  Test the seal of each lid by pressing on it – if it gives at all, it hasn’t sealed and will need to be stored in the fridge.   Label jars with date and store for up to a year. 

(makes 6 pints)

Here’s a quick and dirty little post on how to make your own pumpkin puree to freeze and use throughout the winter.  I happen to be using the large crop of butternut squash that I harvested from my garden to make the batch of puree I photographed for this post, but you can use any type of eating pumpkin.  Butternut squash, by the way, make a great substitute for pumpkins (really, you’ll never be able to tell the difference in the final dish) and are usually available much longer in the season, both earlier and later, than pumpkins. 

I find it’s best to go at the puree-making process in big batches as it is a bit time-consuming and messy whether you’re making a little or a lot so you might as well make a lot, right?   But the effort is worth it as fresh pumpkin puree is notably different from the canned stuff you’ll get at the store.  The puree is much more vibrant in color, contains a lot more “juice” that adds moisture to your dish, and retains all the amazing vitamins that pumpkin has.  Did you know pumpkins are rich in vitamin A, potassium, and fiber?  The addition of pumpkin to just about any dish can be considered a very healthy one indeed.   This pumpkin puree can be used in pumpkin rolls, pies, smoothies, ice cream, truffles, bread puddings, risotto, soup, sauces… once it’s in your freezer, you can let you mind go free to dream up all the possibilities.

1. Begin by collecting all your pumpkins or butternut squash. 

2. Cut all the pumpkins/squash in half and scoop out the seeds and stringy bits with a spoon.

3.  Here’s where you have a choice to make:  steam the halves of pumpkin/squash or roast peeled and cut pieces.   The steamed halves make a more moist and vibrant puree while the roasted pieces have a richer flavor and denser consistency.   I tend to use the former in savory dishes and the latter in sweets.    To steam the pumpkin, place cut side down in a baking dish and add about an inch of water before sliding into a pre-heated 400 F oven.   Bake until a fork slides easily into the largest half.

4.  Roasting pumpkin pieces is done as follows:  Use a good vegetable peeler or sharp knife to remove all skin from the flesh.  Chunk the flesh into evenly sized pieces (the smaller they are the faster they roast).  Line a rimmed cookie sheet with foil and place pieces in a single layer.  I drizzle mine sparingly with extra virgin olive oil and dust them very lightly with brown sugar (about a tablespoon of each) and toss with my hands to coat.   This adds a little richness to the puree.   Slide into a pre-heated 400 F oven and bake until fork tender.

5.  When pumpkin is done baking, remove from oven and allow to cool for at least 15 minutes.   For steamed pumpkin, use a spoon to scoop the flesh into a food processor or blender.  Roasted pieces can go straight into the processor/blender.   Puree until smooth. 

6.  Get out a bunch of sealable freezer bags and label with contents and date.   I fill my bags with measured one cup or two cups of puree so I don’t have to wonder later how much is in a bag when I’m making a recipe.   Flatten bags as shown above and freeze flat so they don’t take up so much room in your freezer.  Pull out of the freezer a couple of hours to thaw before using.

Tonight I’m watching the first snow of the year flutter in damp fat flakes past  the street lamp outside my front window.  Oh, hey, look!  It’s snowing on the blog here too.  Fun, huh?   Winter is finally at our doorstep.   Seasonal local eating will become a bit of a challenge over the next five months.  But that’s where the beauty of putting up jars of this and that and stockpiling root vegetables and winter squash comes in.  

One bunch of jars I put up in my cupboard earlier this autumn was of beautiful golden Quince Jam.  This project, my first time working with quince, was a very special one for me.   Just as with the Pickled Pears last year, mastering quince jam was something I wanted to do for my grandmother.  The mere mention of quince brings this amazing sparkle to my 90 year old grandmother’s eyes.   She remembers eating it as a child when aged quince trees were still commonly found in the backyards of most farmhouses.

Quince trees are no longer all that common, at least not where I live.  In fact, I had never laid eyes on a quince until last autumn when I saw some while working at Longwood Gardens.   At that time, I wasn’t smart enough to realize I had the perfect opportunity right before me to make a very special gift for my grandmother.  Of course,  this autumn, when the quince ripened and became fragrant (though they stay rock hard even when ripe) in October, I made sure to grab a bag and go harvest a bunch from that very same tree.

Now, a quick technical discussion on quince might be helpful.    There are actually two different main categories of quince out there: the kind grown for its fruit crop (Cydonia oblonga) and the kind grown for its breathtaking flowers in the very early spring (Chaenomeles speciosa).   The flowers of the former one are so-so and the fruit of the latter is, well, so-so, as I discovered.  Don’t get me wrong, I’d pick the Chaenomeles (flowering quince) over the Cydonia any day because the fruit is still very tasty, just more of a pain to work with since it’s much smaller and not as prolific as the quince bred for eating.  With the flowering quince, you get both a beautiful ornamental plant and a delicious edible harvest.   For this recipe, I used the Chaenomeles, but most quince recipes are calling for the Cydonia so be aware of that if the recipe you are using calls for a certain number of quince…Cydonia fruit is much larger than Chaenomeles fruit.

Back to the fun stuff.  This jam is really unique and I now understand why my grandmother giggles at the memory of it.  The quince has an unmistakable texture – a crunch even after extensive stewing – and a very bright tingly flavor that is unlike any other fruit I’ve tasted.   By the way, you really shouldn’t eat quince raw.  You might break a tooth for starters and the flavor of a raw quince is apparently very astringent.  I absolutely fell in love with having this jam over a warm slice of multi-grain toast.  Unlike most jams, this one isn’t overly sweet and that, coupled with the chunky texture, makes it feel like something of substance rather than just another sugary breakfast spread. 

I really can’t wait to give a large jar of Quince Jam to my grandmother for Christmas later this month and watch the sparkle spring up in her eyes.  We’ll have thick slices of toast and jam together and laugh at all the grandkids running around with their freshly unwrapped toys.  What food gifts are you giving for the holidays this year? 

Quince Jam
Adapted from Simply Recipes

10-12 quince* 
3 1/2 cups water
2 T. lemon juice
zest of one lemon 
3 1/2 cups sugar

*The quince I use are from the “flowering quince” tree (Chaenomeles speciosa) and are about the size of a small lemon (minus the pointy ends).  The quince you might buy in a supermarket or farmers market are often from the “fruiting quince” tree (Cydonia oblonga) so they are larger, nearly the size of apples.  If you are making jam with the latter variety, use only about 4 fruits or enough to make 4 cups of grated quince.

Prepare the quince by washing and cutting in half.  Remove core, seeds, and any blemished bits.  Rinse and do not peel.  Use a large chopping knife to mince up the quince into small bits or use a food processor if you have one.  You should end up with about 4 packed cups of minced quince.

(Place two small ceramic plates in the freezer if you are new to jam making and want help determining if it’s cooked long enough to set up.)

Put water in a large heavy saucepan and bring to a boil. Add the grated quince, lemon juice and lemon zest. Reduce heat and simmer until the quince is soft, about 10 minutes.

Add the sugar, stir well, and bring to a boil again. Keep stirring until all of the sugar is dissolved. Lower the heat to medium high. Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally until quince jam turns pink and thickens to desired consistency, about 30-50 minutes.   If using the cold plate method, remove one plate from the freezer and dab a little hot jam onto it.  Wait a few seconds and then run your finger through it.  If the streak your finger makes stays put, your jam is ready.  If it merges back together, you need to cook for a few more minutes and then test again with the second cold plate.   If you like a less chunky jam, use a potato masher to smooth out the texture a bit.

Place a sterilized jar into a small bowl so you don’t have to handle the hot glass and to catch any major spills.  Ladle jam into sterilized jars. Before applying the lids, sterilize them by placing in a bowl and pouring boiling water over them. Use tongs to remove each lid from the water as you need it.  Be sure to wipe the rims of the jars very clean before applying the lids and screwing on tight.  Turn jars upside down and cover with a dish towel.  After a bit, you should start hearing the lids pop, indicating they’ve sealed.  When jars are cool, turn upright and test the lids by pressing on them.  If they don’t have any “give”, they are sealed.  If they spring back, they haven’t sealed and you’ll need to store the jar in the fridge. 

(makes about 3 half pints)

I hinted in the last post that I’d been doing a lot of canning recently.  I grew up with canning, helping my mom put up all sorts of fruits and vegetables for our family’s winter eating.  Sadly, I didn’t always appreciate the font of knowledge that was before me at the time.  Nor did I really embrace canning again until last year.  This autumn I’ve been a woman on a mission, intent on returning to the traditions of putting up plenty of jars to “keep on keepin’ on” with the local eating long after the garden is in its wintery bed. 

The recipe I’m giving you today isn’t exactly the one my mom uses because I like to add a few bits of warm spices to mine, but the concept is very much the same.  I used pears from the same tree in the side yard of our family farm that my grandmother used when she was my age.  I also happen to use the same canning kettle and jar rack as my grandmother.   She gave them to me at Christmas last year.  I was extremely sad when she did, because it meant that she herself would never use them again (she’s 90 and unable to see well enough to can anymore) .  Once I got started using the kettle though, I felt incredibly grateful to her and to my mom for passing down both the tools and know-how to preserve my own food.   As I lifted the heavy jars full of ripe pears into the kettle to be processed, I couldn’t help but feel deeply connected to my family and its heritage as my hands were holding the same handles as my grandmother’s had so many times over so many years. 

 What follows is a pictorial guide to canning pears with the recipe at the end.  This same method can be used to can fresh peaches. 

Get ripe but still firm local pears.  Do not use mushy fruit. 

Set yourself up with two chairs, a large dish pan, a large bowl and a sharp knife.
You sit on the side of the dish pan.

Put the whole pears into the dish pan, leaving a corner empty. 
Peel and core pears, putting scraps in the empty corner of the dish pan and the clean pear halves into the big bowl. 

Set up your stove to work efficiently:  one burner for simmering lids, one burner for the canning kettle, one burner for making your syrup, and one burner for keeping some extra water simmering in case you need to add it any of the other three. Keep ladle and jar lifter close at hand.

Pack sterilized jars with pear halves using a fork and keeping the round side up. 

Put one jar at a time in a bowl to catch spills and use a ladle to fill with hot syrup (l).
Thoroughly clean rims of filled jars with a damp paper towel (r).

Use magnet or tongs to carefully lift hot lids out of simmering water and place immediately on jars.

Fill rack with seven filled and capped jars.

Temper jars by placing them half way into the hot kettle for 10 seconds and then lift them back out.  Repeat. Finally carefully submerge completely and put lid on the kettle. 

Spiced Canned Pears
A Straight from the Farm Original

1 bushel of firm, but ripe pears
2 C. sugar
6 C. water
2 cinnamon sticks
1/4 t. ground cinnamon
1 t. freshly grated nutmeg
2 whole star anise
14-16 quart jars
lids and rings
canning kettle
jar lifter
large ladle

Begin by filling the canning kettle with water and placing 7 jars at a time in it, also filled with water.   Place kettle on high heat to come to a boil while you prepare the pears. 

Place lids in a shallow skillet and cover with water.  Set over low heat to simmer until ready to use.  In a large saucepan, combine the sugar, water, cinnamon, nutmeg, and anise, stirring well to get the sugar to start dissolving.  Leave the saucepan sit on the counter while you peel half the pears.  When you’re about half way done with peeling, put the saucepan on high heat to come to a boil.  If it starts boiling before you are done peeling, just lower the heat so it is simmering. 

Set up a peeling station with two large dish pans or bowls.  Fill one with whole pears, leaving a small space at one side empty.  Use a sharp paring knife to peel and core the pears, putting the peelings into the empty spot you left in the bowl/pan with the whole pears and placing the cleaned pear halves in the other bowl/pan.   Work as quickly as you can and peel only as many pears as you’ll need to fill the 7 jars so that the prepared pears don’t sit around too long and discolor. 

Use the jar lifter to carefully lift the jars out of the boiling kettle.  Leave the kettle on the stove to continue boiling with the lid on.  Very carefully dump the hot water out of the jars and set them on a folded dish towel on the counter.  Use a fork to spear each pear half with its rounded side facing up (the cavity facing down).  Lower pear halves into each jar, packing them tightly and leaving at least a half inch of head space at the top of the jar.

Take the hot syrup off the heat.  Place a jar of pears in a bowl to catch any spills and use the ladle to pour syrup into the jar, covering the pears.  Repeat until all the jars have syrup.  If you should find yourself running low on syrup, you can add about a half cup of hot water to the saucepan to make it stretch. 

Use a damp paper towel to carefully wipe the rim of each jar clean, running your finger over it after cleaning to be sure there are no residues or chips in the glass that will interfere with the seal.  Using tongs or a magnetic wand, fish out one lid from the simmering skillet at a time and put on a jar and secure with a ring twisted on tightly.  Repeat on all jars. 

When all jars are ready, place in jar rack/lifter and carefully lower half way into the boiling kettle and then pull them back out.  This helps make sure the jars won’t crack at the sudden exposure to high heat.  Repeat lowering-lifting again before placing the jars entirely in the kettle.  Make sure the water covers the jars by at least an inch.   If it doesn’t, top off the kettle with more boiling water from a tea kettle or the water the lids had been simmering in.   Keep the kettle over high heat and process the jars for 20 minutes.

Using the jar rack/lifter, carefully remove the jars from the kettle.  Set on the folded dish towel, dabbing off any water that lingers on the lids.  Place another towel over the jars and allow them to sit for at least 4-5 hours without being disturbed, ideally overnight.  The lids should start popping (sealing) in an hour or two after coming out of the kettle, but don’t fret if a few haven’t as some take much longer to get a good seal.  Test the seal when the jars are completely cool.  If the lid is firm, it’s sealed.  If it has a spring in it still, it hasn’t sealed and you’ll need to store that jar in the fridge. 

Use a permanent marker to label the jars and store in a cool dark place until ready to use.  Properly sealed and processed jars can last over a year though it’s best to try to eat them before the next pear season comes around. 

(makes about approximately 14 quarts or 28 pints)

This is it, folks.  This is the last recipe in the official Rhubarb Fest here on SFTF.  Won’t you miss that glaring shade of pink font?  There may be a few stragglers to come, but both my kitchen and my garden have moved on from the ephemeral spring beauty of rhubarb to the boisterous abundance of early summer.   Now that my harvest basket is brimming daily with sugar snap peas, kohlrabi, beets, lettuces, radishes, broccoli and more, it’s tough to stay focused on one exclusive ingredient.  Can you blame me? 

But celebrating rhubarb has been fun, hasn’t it?  I discovered several new and delicious recipes, all of which astonishingly excluded strawberries, rhubarb’s bestest buddy ever!   Of course I saved the best for last.   This batch of Rhubarb Lavender Jam combines so many of my favorite flavors: sassy rhubarb, floral lavender, and wildflower honey, all of which came out of my garden in one way or another.    I also love that this jam does not require any pectin.  It’s not that I mind pectin in my jam.  I just mind the inevitable realization that I used up the last of my stash and never remembered to replace it (pectin’s tough to find in bulk here in the city so I buy mine at the little local store by my parents’ farm when I’m visiting). 

If you’re not a master jam maker – and I certainly don’t consider myself to be one like Tigress in a Jam, the creator of this recipe – this is an easy beginners batch.  The ingredients take minimal processing and you can’t really mess it up as you can keep cooking it if you aren’t sure that its ready to set up.  Rhubarb takes a licking and keeps on ticking like that.   And this jam does indeed set up beautifully.

If you’re not a big fan of lavender but you like the sound of rhubarb jam, I’m certain you could make this without the herbal addition.  Or, better yet, try an herb you do like, maybe rosemary, mint, or even chamomile.    And, yes, strawberries could make an appearance too if you don’t want plain ol’ boring rhubarb.   Oh dear, have I given you the impression that I don’t like strawberries?  Oh, but I do!  In fact, I have two large patches of alpine strawberry plants – one in my garden and one in large containers on my deck – that I just can’t wait to start picking from, likely beginning next week as the first berries are just taking on color.  But I really do like showcasing rhubarb as a  luscious “fruit” not to be upstaged by that perky juicy red berry. 

Oh, would you like to know my goal for next year?  To make this same recipe using only ingredients I’ve grown myself.  My lemon tree, which is currently sitting in a large clay pot in my garden and growing like mad, should be bearing plenty of lemons next spring.  And instead of sugar, I’m going to try using ground stevia, a sweet herb I currently grow to sweeten my homemade herbal tea blends.  I’m growing enough of it this year that I should have cups of it dried and ground for storing over the winter.   Fun, huh? 

Rhubarb Lavender Jam
Adapted from Tigress in a Jam

6 C. rhubarb, finely chopped
2 ½ C. granulated sugar
2 lemons
5-8 fresh lavender sprigs
7 oz. wildflower honey

Wash the rhubarb thoroughly and cut any thick stalks in half lengthwise.  Finely chop rhubarb and measure out six cups into a large ceramic bowl.  Add sugar, juice of one lemon, and the florets only of the lavender.  Stir gently to make sure all the rhubarb is coated and the sugar is not sitting at the bottom of the bowl.  Cover with a plate or foil and set in the fridge to macerate overnight.

The next morning, place one or two small plates in the freezer for later use. Gather five small jam jars and sterilize either in the dishwasher or by place a small amount of water in the bottom of each one an microwaving them for 3 minutes on high.  Empty out any remaining water and set aside.  Meanwhile, place the lids in a shallow pan, covered with water, and simmer on the stove until ready to use. 

Place the rhubarb mixture in a fine mesh strainer and collect juice in a non-reactive (stainless steel) pan. Add honey and bring the liquid to a boil. Skim any foam that collects on top and continue boiling until it is very hot and steaming, about 4-5 minutes.

Add the rhubarb mixture to the liquid in the pan and return it to a boil, carefully skimming any foam that gathers on top.  Add juice of the other lemon and continue cooking at a boil for 5-6 minutes, stirring and skimming as needed.

Take jam off heat and use a potato masher to break up any remaining solid pieces of rhubarb. Check the set of the jam by taking a plate from the freezer and dropping a small spoonful of jam on it and let it sit for a moment.  Pass a finger through the middle of the jam.  If it is set, there will be a clear line left behind.   If the jam runs back together, return the pot to the heat and boil for another minute or two and try the “set test” again with a fresh plate from the freezer.  Repeat as needed to get the jam to set.

Remove the simmering lids from the stove and drain off the water.  Put a sterilized jar in a small bowl (to catch any drips and to protect your hands from the heat) and ladle hot jam into it.  Wipe the rim and threaded mouth clean before screwing on the lid.  Turn upside down to cool and repeat until all jam is in jars. 

After an hour or two, turn jars up right and let cool completely.  Check to see if lids sealed by pressing on them.  If they give or pop, they are not sealed and must be stored in the fridge.  If they have sealed, store in a cupboard.  This makes a small batch so I did not bother to process them in a hot water bath.  If you wish to make larger batches or store for a long length of time, follow these instructions. 

(makes 4-5 half pint jars)

I was looking at the top shelf of my cupboard just a minute ago and shaking my head in partial disbelief and partial smugness.   On that top shelf is the oddest assortment of small batch jams and jellies I’ve ever had to date.  This growing season kept affording me opportunities to make these preserves that were just too good to pass up, and yet, now, I’m a bit shocked at what I have.  Pity the fool that wishes to have something so commonplace as raspberry or grape jelly at my house. 

Still, all the recipes I tried and fiddled with this year for preserves proved very successful; thus my teeny bit of smugness.  I have Ground Cherry Chamomile Jam, Apple Rhubarb Jam…and now Spiced Fig and Pear Preserves (jam really, but “preserves” sounded fancier).   Originally, I really wanted to try the recipe my Portuguese pen pal sent me  (thank you, A!), but alas my fig supply was severely dwindling by the time I got around to this jam-making session.  I mulled it over and realized I had a lot of pears I’d plucked from the ancient pear tree at my childhood home. Thinking they would mingle well with the figs, I chopped them up and threw them in to bulk up my fruit pulp for this preserves project. 

This is the part where I have to take a moment to sing the praises of Elise at Simply Recipes.  She always has just the thing to guide my culinary experiments.  If I’ve dreamed it up, chances are Elise did too and already tried it so I can learn from her experiences.  Not only did she have a recipe for a fig-comingled-with-another-fruit preserve, but she also used the microwave and made jam-making the simplest venture in the world so even newbie cooks can fearlessly tackle their abundance of fruit and force it into jellied submission.   Hurrah for microwave jams!*

I really love the flavor of this jam, and the color is so rich and inviting.  As suspected, pears and figs are superb when paired together.  My one itty-bitty complaint – although as someone who loves pears, I really don’t have the right to complain – is that the texture is just a bit gritty.  Next year, when the much-anticipated fig season comes around again, I’ll give this recipe another go with a somewhat higher fig to pear ratio (as is reflected in the recipe below).  Adding more figs should smooth out the texture a good bit. 

For now though, this is my last jam recipe for 2008, if only because all local fruit sources have dried up, and I have nothing left to play with here in December.  That’s okay though as I can now happily busy myself with the task of eating all the jams I’ve put up on my top cupboard shelf.

* As with any jam-making process, be sure to use the biggest possible container when making your microwave jam.  Learn from my foolhardy mistakes and don’t let sticky boiling over happen to you!

Spiced Fig and Pear Preserve
Adapted from Simply Recipes

¾ C. fresh figs, quarterd
½ C. ripe pear, peeled and cubed
¾ C. sugar, vanilla or regular white granular
1 lemon, zested and juiced
Nutmeg to taste
Cinnamon to taste
Ground ginger to taste
½ t. butter

Place all ingredients in a large microwave safe bowl (don’t skimp on the bowl size as the contents are going to expand greatly while cooking), stir to combine and let sit for at least 30 minutes to allow the fruit to macerate in the sugar.

Put a small plate in the freezer.   Place the fruit mixture in microwave and cook on high for 5 minutes. Stir well and return to the microwave.  Continue cooking for another 3 minutes and stir again.  The mixture should be thickening.  If it’s not, repeat cooking and stirring at 3 minute intervals until it does. 

At about 10 minutes, the mixture should be tested by placing a small bit on the plate from the freezer.  If it sets up after a minute, you’re done.  If it is runny, cook it a couple minutes more.

Pour out the jam into a jelly jar with a lid and store in the fridge.  It will keep for several months, although you’ll probably eat it long before that.

(makes 6-8 oz)

I’m feeling a bit out of touch with the seasons here this year.  Rather than dishing out recipes for winter squash and mustard greens and warm spiced desserts like I was this time last year, I keep coming up with these last few throw backs to warmer months.   First it was kiwis and then sweet peppers, and now it’s rhubarb.  Yes, rhubarb! 

Generally speaking, I’m sure most people would consider rhubarb to be a spring ephemeral, or at least not anything to be had past June.  But I’ve recently discovered that’s really not true at all.  In fact, it’s at its sweetest in autumn, just when it needs cutting back anyway.   There are the big woody stems that should be tossed, but keep any of the slender and pliable ones to throw into such scrumptious treats as Apple Rhubarb Jam.

Rhubarb has been a favorite of mine since I can remember, thanks to the long-lived perennial stand of it in my grandmother’s kitchen garden.  It often fell upon me to walk to her house and twist off a few tender stems for one of my mom’s delicious spring-time desserts.   I actually got the rhubarb for this recipe from her garden once again on a recent visit. 

Gardeners usually put in one or two year-old crowns of rhubarb when getting their patch started.  I actually decided to put rhubarb in my own garden this year but wanted to try growing it from seed so I could observe the whole propagation process.  So far, my plants are looking young but healthy, having snuggled into their bed for winter.  I probably won’t be able to harvest anything from them yet next year but I look forward to plenty of rhubarb in 2010!

Now, I’m sure you’re all thinking “PIE!” when you hear rhubarb.  And maybe you’re also thinking “strawberries” at the same time.  But let me see if I can broaden your perspective on rhubarb uses and companion flavors.   Sweet little autumn apples are the perfect complement to rhubarb’s bright tangy flavor.  And jam, when heading into winter, is a very necessary hibernation food store.   I seem to be making a lot of little batches of jam this year, and I have to say this is definitely my favorite. 

On a general note about rhubarb, be sure never to eat the leaves, only the stalks/stems, as the leaves are poisonous. Also, it is advised not to harvest rhubarb after it has been hit with a hard frost as this may increase the toxin levels in the stems as the leaves die back. 

APPLE RHUBARB JAM
Adapted from Allrecipes.com

*I used the vanilla scented sugar that I use to store my vanilla beans, which added a nice subtle flavor.

In a large saucepan mix together the rhubarb, apples, sugar, water and cinnamon. Bring to a boil, then cook over medium heat for 20 minutes or until the fruit is soft. Stir in the pectin and boil for 5 minutes.

Ladle into sterile jars, wipe rims with a clean cloth or paper towel, and seal with new lids. Process in a bath of simmering water for at least 10 minutes, or as recommended by your local extension if you are at a high altitude. Store unopened jars in a cool dark place. Refrigerate jam after opening.

(makes about 6 cups)

Over the growing season, I harvested small bunches of fresh herbs each week and hung them to dry in anticipation of making my own herbal tea when the cooler months got here.  I started tea making last year with just anise hyssop, yarrow and lavender.  This year I had a much wider palette of herbs growing in my garden, and I’ve been eager to get started with my “recipe” testing.  

I converted my closet into a mini drying room, using clothes hangers to hold the herb bunches while they dried with a small fan circulating air inside the closet.    The closet was the ideal space since it was dark, warm and dry.   Within its confines, I dried mint, anise hyssop, yarrow, lavender, calendula, sweet marjoram, bergamot, chamomile, rosemary, and sage.

Since my time was precious during the busy growing season, I just stored whole dried bunches in air-tight containers until I was ready to process them.  Besides running out of room in the closet, leaving the herbs hanging all summer would have left them dusty and a bit “off” when brewed.    This week I had the chance to process all those dried bunches, striping the leaves and buds off the brittle stems and sorting them into tupperware. 

From here I plan on using a few books and my own tongue to guide the way to some good brews of herbal mixes.  The bergamot will be mixed with some bulk black tea to make my own Earl Grey.   The sweet marjoram and chamomile might make a nice match with some calendula petals sprinkled in for vibrant orange color.  I have also been harvesting rose hips and drying them in the closet.   I’ll use those with the yarrow and lavender for a bright floral tincture.  As December approaches and I get my tea “recipes” down, I’ll bundle up assorted teas, jars of my bees’ honey, and some cute bees wax candles for holiday gifts again this year.

Forgive me.  This post is about to be one of the shortest on SFTF.  I’m in the throes of a week of final exams and it’s not been pretty:  studying ‘til the wee hours of the night and cheese and crackers for dinner two nights running so far.  But I didn’t want to leave you for too long without some culinary inspiration and one last recipe for ground cherries that I have tucked away in my drafts. 

 
Ground cherry season is just about at a close.  I have some fruit left on my plants which I’ll harvest when I pull them out of the ground next week during the process of putting my garden to bed for the winter.  I knew right from the start I wanted to make jam with these lovely little fruits, but was wondering what I could to spice up the jam idea a bit.  I ran across another blogger’s account of making Ground Cherry and Chamomile Jam and I knew right away that’s what I wanted to make.  I used my own honey I’d harvested from my hive earlier this year.  I didn’t have my own chamomile to use for this batch, but I’ve just harvested a bunch of chamomile flowers to dry that I’ll be sure to use for the next batch. 

This jam is floral and fruity, with the ground cherry itself playing a rather secondary role to the honey and chamomile.  That is until you hold it for a moment on your tongue and realize the ground cherry’s pineapple-y zest is doing quite a lively dance itself in the very pleasant aftertaste of this jam. 

This jam is quite beautiful too: glowing amber suspends little pearls that once were seeds.  Those seeds might put some folks off, in which case you could always just strain the hot jam before putting it in jars.  I personally like the subtle contrasting crunch of the seeds amid the silky sweetness of the jam. 

recipe after the jump

Ground Cherry & Chamomile Jam
Adapted from David Matthew’s Blog

6 C. husked and washed ground cherries
3 C. sugar
1 1/2 C. wildflower honey
1/2 C. water
1 lemon, juiced
2 C. chamomile tea

Combine sugar, honey, water and lemon juice in a large heavy sauce pan and bring to a boil. Add ground cherries and simmer for about 5 minutes or until most cherries have burst open. Remove from heat and mash with a large spoon to ensure fruit is broken up.

Transfer to a large bowl and cover with a parchment paper (don’t let the paper touch the fruit). Refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight if you’d like.

Take two cups of fruit mixture and strain through a fine mesh strainer, using a spoon as needed to push as much liquid through as possible. Transfer strained liquid along with the unstrained fruit mixture back to the saucepan and return to a boil. Add chamomile infusion, simmer until proper consistency and can.

(makes 4-5 small jars)