Meyer Lemons & Rangpur Limes

I really lucked out this year. Even though I swore I wouldn't do citrus, it nonetheless found it's way to me. It's good to have friends in citrusy places is all I can say. One of the really special things I got this year was a shipment of rangpur limes from Shae, at Hitchhiking to Heaven. She talks about them here, and has a few recipes up, like this gorgeous looking Rangpur Lime Jam. I also got a bunch of Meyer lemons through some charitable folks I'll call enablers. This is what I made with all that goodness.

Meyer Lemons:


I made lemon Curd using this amazing new (to me, at least) technique that is brilliant. This recipe is from Elinor Klivans from Fine Cooking, and what's different about it is that you blend the ingredients first, and then heat them up. Please check it out. It was the most perfect lemon curd I've ever made. And the easiest.

I also made this gorgeous Tartine Bakery's Lemon Cream that Sara from Three Clever Sisters told me about. Food52's Kristen Miglore goes into the details of this delightful, velvety yet light as air cream. It was so much fun to make, and I really thought I messed it up until the end. I never really believe things are going to emulsify, you know? But then they do! I ate it just like pudding, and I think that's just fine (salute to Kristen). (Not lemons or limes, but pure genius, make sure you check out this chocolate mousse that Miglore discusses!)

I was all gung ho to make a Meyer lemon syrup and can it. Well, let me tell you that the subtle sunny notes that makes a Meyer a Meyer does not want to be contained in a syrup that sits on the shelf. Or at least that's how I felt. It was my technique of heating the juice that ruined it's delicate bouquet. Use the rangpur lime syrup recipe below, and I can assure you a better product. Just stick it in the fridge, stick it in the fridge. You'll drink it pretty fast anyways. To be fair, this still makes a fine lemonade base. Next time I'll just stick with the regular kinds of lemons.

[For those interested: take two cups sugar and two cups water, bring to a boil and make sure the sugar is dissolved. Add two cups of fresh lemon juice, bring back to a boil. Ladle into sterlized jars and process for ten minutes in a boiling water bath.]

I love this link I found 100 things to do with a meyer lemon by Amy Scattergood from the LA Times. Number 83 was discussed a bit. So, when I started looking into that, I wondered what about a whole lemon, not just the peels. Which made me start researching this Japanese treat called simply "honey lemon slices." Seems like a popular manga character really likes them. I never really found out what they were, but I sliced a Meyer lemon and a few rangpur limes and tucked them neatly in their separate half-pint jars. Then I covered them with nice local honey. They've been in the fridge for a while steeping. I'm not quite sure what to do with them, honestly, but I am guessing in a week or two the slices will sink nicely in a drink, and the honey will do nicely with some seltzer.

That wormhole led me to make this very strange pickled lemon recipe. I am not sure I like it, but it might just work in a margarita. What doesn't? It's sort of like preserved lemon, so I guess it can't be that bad, right? I'm not in love with it. Yet. Please note: I made a super small batch of this. This recipe is for an army's worth of pickled lemon. I'm not sure who needs that. But I could be wrong.

Rangpur Limes:

The antithesis to my Meyer lime syrup. I made a rangpur lime syrup, and I never want to live without it again. But I will, sadly. I made a simple syrup with 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water, that I brought to a simmer to make sure the sugar was dissolved. Then, once it cooled a touch, I added one cup of rangpur lime juice. Did I mention that rangpur limes are heaven with gin? Oops. Maybe I said that already. Have you tried Tanqueray Rangpur? I haven't. (Hint, hint, Tanqueray publicity!)

Well, I can't wait all day for Tanqueray's people to send me a bottle, so I made my own. It's more of a liqueur, similar to a calamondin gin that I made. I can't get enough of that stuff! I quartered about 8 rangpur limes, enough to fill a quart jar, added a cup of sugar, and filled to the top with gin (I used Gordon's). It will sit for a month, agitated every day, until it becomes my drink of choice. I know it's going to be off the hook. Until then I'm having No. 3 Gin with a shot of rangpur syrup, topped with seltzer. Heaven!

You have to make Hungry Tigress' North Indian Lime Pickle. I've never had them with regular limes, so I don't know how that tastes. I'm sure amazing. So, with Rangpur limes, think double triple billion amazing. I am a total wimp, so I followed her directions for not adding cayenne, and upping the sugar. Yeah, I know, I'm lame, but believe me these pickles are still awesome. This is the kind of pickle that is beguiling. One that makes your mouth pucker, salivary glands wake up even when they are behind you, and you can't even see them. That's where they are right now, and I just got up to smell them. Ahhhh.

Autumn Makes and Does made this pretty little rangpur lime marmalade, and when I made it, it came out perfectly. It's a gorgeous marmalade in petite ratio, and her recipe totally made me feel okay about making it. I didn't want a huge batch. I ended up with three quarter pints, and one fridge container. Treasure!

Really? Rangpur lime shooters? I didn't make them, but wasn't sure whether this was totally right or totally wrong. But truth be told, I would not turn one down!

I'm adding these two treats to the list for the next time the rangpur lime fairy strikes:

Rangpur Lime Curd Bars from Apt. 2B Baking Co.

Anonymous Citrus (or, most probably Rangpur Lime) and Chile Pâté de Fruit from Tug's Girl

Sugar Drop Cookies with Cornmeal and Olive Oil

I had high hopes for this holiday season. When I posted about my holiday cocktails, I was just swinging into it. Then I got this miserable cold that clutched my bronchi for two weeks. The whole family got it, of course, and that means no sleep when you most need it. So, boo-hoo, right? I'm better now, but the season seems to have soured for me. I've never been one much for Christmas, to be very honest, and the only reason I am now starting to be swayed by it's glitter and sweets and mystery is that my son is just starting to be enthralled by it. How can I not enjoy that sparkle in his eyes when he sees trees lit up?

What I really do enjoy celebrating now though, is the solstice. It's a quiet celebration, one spent walking one of the nearby preserves. More and more, as I get older and especially now that I get up so early, I look forward to the darkest day with much anticipation. I feel as if there is something to said in that. Welcoming the darkest day, as it slowly creeps towards us, feels like something powerful. To really accept the winter fully and respect it for what it is, the only way we can reach renewal, to return to the green.

It's not that I wasn't deeply affected by Christmas myself as a child. Buying a tree, standing it in the foyer with the old red towel, decorating it. Begging my parents for tinsel which was considered vulgar. Wrapping up sticks I found in the yard for my dog, Moro. We got clementines in our stocking, and pieces of coal, as well, my parents making sure to not let us think we were that good. I think I remember taping a few Christmases, with a tape recorder, then a new-fangled technology for us. We always ate fish on New Year's Eve, smelts and octopus in keeping with the Italian tradition of the feast of seven fishes. Breakfast was usually homemade croissants that I helped form with my mother the day before. We always made gingerbread men, which I never truly loved to eat, but I always enjoyed dressing them with raisin buttons. Anise cookies, Pfeffernüsse and the requisite rolled sugar cookies were also in our cookie rotation.

In keeping with the age old cookie-making tradition, we've been making cookies nearly every day. My son is at the age now that he really loves to measure out the flour and spoonfuls of various leavening and spices. The funny thing is that he rarely eats the cookies we make! I've been bringing them around to friends because otherwise I'll eat them all. These cookies are a riff on the jam-filled thumbkins that folks like me (who have a cupboard full of jams, that is) like to make. They are lightly sweet with a toothsome chew from the cornmeal. Best of all, they are incredibly easy to make!

Sugar Drop Cookies with Cornmeal and Olive Oil

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

2 cups AP flour
1/2 cup yellow cornmeal, not a finely ground one
1 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder
1/4 teaspoon of salt

Mix the dry ingredients. Mix the wet ingredients, below, in a separate bowl.

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 eggs

1 tablespoon of cherry pit liqueur or almond extract

Add the wet to dry ingredients, as you mix it will change from a smooth thick batter to a somewhat dry dough. Using a measuring tablespoon, scoop out balls of dough, roll them between your palms, roll them in extra sugar, and place them on your parchment paper covered tray. I like to use my measuring teaspoon to indent a bowl shaped pit in the middle of the cookie dough ball. Then I use that spoon to fill with jam. I used a fig fennel vanilla jam, which went amazingly well with the dough, and a raspberry jam, which was pretty but seeped a little. Use a jam that's firm, and not syrupy or it will seep into the cookie and not look as pretty. I covered them with sliced almonds. Bake them for 10 to 12 minutes.

While you are at the cookie thing, check out Tigress' virtual cookie party (tonight!) and cook book giveaway. She is giving away a bunch of amazing books, and there will be cookie camaraderie to boot. You can bet I will be there, with a plate packed with cookies!

Branches from the yard dressed up until we get a tree.

Wild Raspberry and Blueberry Jam

Getting read to freeze. Checking for bugs is easier at this point.

What I love most about the summer, along with all the other things I’ve been waxing poetic about lately, is picking fruit. Mostly berries. The other day, I went with my husband and son to pick blueberries, and as we drove home I said that it was perfect—the only thing I wanted to do. Steve commented that although it was fun, he could only handle it once or twice a summer. That I could do it all the time was surprising to him. I find it surprising that people don’t want to pick berries all the time. That someone could pass berry bushes filled with ripe red raspberries is unthinkable to me.

Town hall? A cup of tea?

Everybody has a place that they belong in, and mine is the woods, I think. The other morning I got out early to pick in my secret wild raspberry (also called wineberries) patch. This was one of the hottest days of the year, to date, and I appropriately left at 7 a.m. I headed off with my bait bucket—perfect for berry picking. With my smart hiking shoes, I took off along the path and suddenly drifted into my world. Steve is never happier than when body surfing in the ocean. I easily can see it, as I sit on the sand while he's in the surf, by the light in his eye, that he is deeply happy.

A perfect ladder for a squirrel.

For me it’s winding paths in the mountains. It’s rocks and downed trees, seas of fern, and a muted quiet. Soon, I am lost in the berry picking, except for remembering to whistle or sing (this year it was songs from the new Winnie the pooh soundtrack, fittingly enough, and don't laugh-- it's a great album!) in case a bear is somewhere doing the same thing I am. I am happiest when I’m in that dark, green veiled world. A world where I can imagine frogs talking to mice in waistcoats, or a fox smoking a cheroot while he surveys his domain. There are secret little worlds in there, in the hollowed out tree trunks and lily-pad-strewn ponds, with its dark peaty browns and lacy soft greens and dots of ruby red amidst it.

A lovely place to rest for a weary spider.

When I came back, legs scratched and hands sticky with resin, I felt satisfied with my haul, which is good because it was probably my last of the season. I decided to stop this particular moment in time with some blueberries in a small batch jam. The sweetness of the blueberries stand up to the tart wild raspberries. And the pectin of the blues makes for a nice set, easily gained with the acid of both fruit. This recipe made a full pint that I stuck in the fridge and is almost already gone.  You could process two half-pints instead for ten minutes.

1 cup of wild raspberries
1 cup of blueberries (good for you if they're wild too!)
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon of lemon juice

Put all ingredients in a pot that looks like it's larger than you need. It's not much fruit, but it will still boil up high, like all jams. I let my fruit macerate with the sugar overnight, just because I was too tired to do it then. Either way, when you are ready, bring the mixture to a boil. Let the little bubbles rise and wave frantically. My jam reached a gel stage after about ten minutes of boiling. I didn't use a freezer test or thermometer, just checked it dripping off my spoon and watched for sheeting. I'll admit, it's easier to recognize when you've made jam a ton of times. Remember, a thin jam is never a problem. A stack of pancakes will always come to the rescue.

Turn off the heat and let the bubbles subside. Ladle the jam into a warmed pint jar--I fill mine with very hot tap water and dump it out right before filling, so that it's not such a shock from boil to bottle. Or, as I mentioned you can process this, following normal canning procedure, for ten minutes in two half-pint jars.

I like this jam on toast, while thinking about chipmunks meeting for tea on a toadstool, or some kind of woodland fiction like that.

A spoonful of jam makes every story better.

Apricots

When you get a huge box of fruit, your mind starts swirling around that particular fruit and it's possibilities, and then, fun things happen. Or at least that's how I feel about it. This is what happened when I picked up a 25-pound box of apricot seconds the other day. 

After I tweeted for apricot inspiration, I got a response from my friend, Sarah (SarahBHood on Twitter or Toronto Tasting Notes). Sarah has a delicious and creative new canning book just out, We Sure Can, that features one or two of my recipes, alongside some stellar jamming company too long to list (the link to the book goes to the publisher, Arsenal Pulp Press, and lists all the bloggers involved.) 

Sarah gave me a few ideas for my apricots--five to be exact-- but the one that stood out for me was rosemary. I never thought to do an apricot rosemary jam, but doesn't that make the best sense in the world? Sarah mentioned her jamming buddy Alec Stockwell says it's a must. Apricot rosemary jam was the first thing I made, and I tell you, Alec was spot on, but then I didn't stop there. An extra sprig of rosemary was sitting on the counter looking to be useful as I was making an apricot pie. While making the crust in a food processor, I pulled the needles off the rosemary stem and tossed them in. The pie crust was flecked with green and added such a wonderfully subtle flavor to my apricot pie. I'm thinking of doing a peach pie next, with a lavender flowers in the crust.

I also really wanted to make the Best of Both Worlds Jam from Mrs. Wheelbarrow's post on apricots four ways. I mean, does this woman keep giving, or what? Apricots, sour cherries and St. Germain. Wait, what?? But I got carried away with so many ideas, and what I did end up doing was making an apricot blueberry, and an apricot vanilla with noyaux (a jam I made last year and was disappointed by at the start, only to open mid-winter and fall in love with it), in addition to the apricot rosemary. 

Instead of a fourth batch, which I was tempted by, I did something new to me and dried a few pounds of apricots. What's really exciting to me about this idea is that I don't have a dehydrator. The best ways to dehydrate food are obvious ones: a dehydrator, the sun, and your oven. I used my cold smoker which is electric. It maintains a temperature of about 120 degrees. I kept it in a sunny spot (I have an outdoor outlet that gets full sun) to increase the heat. (Of course, I didn't put any wood chips in, but I'm seriously considering how wood-smoked fruit must taste like.)

My apricots dried in little over 24 hours. I sprinkled them with lemon juice prior to drying to prevent browning. Now, I know not everyone has a cold smoker just hanging out in their shed, but if you do, you might want to utilize it to dry your excess bounty. In my mind's eye, I already have that thing working overtime this summer!

What are you making with apricots? Here is a look at last year's apricot endeavors:

Apricot Nectar

Apricot Brandy

Apple Apricot Almond Jelly

And an Extension page from Utah University on Apricot Preservation that I consulted for drying apricots.

Guanciale Jam

There's been a lot of posts on charcuterie alternated with fruity preserve-y stuff, and so I figured I'd combine the two!

No, not really, but this is a meat "jam." I had some guanciale sitting around and had this idea for a spreadable meat, like 'nduja. Or, probably closer in style to bacon marmalade. Last year bacon marmalade was everywhere--do a search and a bunch of things come up. I sort of used those recipes as a guideline, and I wish I hadn't because the flavoring for guanciale should have been more subtle than for bacon. If I ever do it again, I would use white wine vinegar and fresh herbs, maybe honey.

I diced my small stash of cured jowl and sauteed it until brown and crispy. Poured off the excess fat to use later. Placed the meat to the side. Put one chopped onion in the hot pan that was still lightly greased, and cooked until soft and browned. I added some brown sugar and cider vinegar. I cooked it all down for a while, added water when it got dry. When it looked right to me, which was about twenty minutes, I took it off the heat and let it cool. When cool, into the processor it went to be whizzed down into a smooth-ish paste.

This little jar of gold has been coming in handy with the huge amount of kales and chard I have. A spoonful in a hot cast iron pan is the perfect accompaniment to hearty greens. I also had some Charcutepalooza Canadian bacon on hand, a small chunk, and chopped that into the pan as well. Add a little whey, if you have it, to simmer it all down....

It's also good on biscuits. These were made with lard (that I got from the generous Lisa Mack of Mack Hill Farms) with buttermilk and sourdough starter. It was slightly decadent to say the least! That was a really fine breakfast.

Buttermilk Muffins with Rhubarb Jam Centers

I have yet to write about the two wonderful rhubarb jams I recently made, and by the time I do it'll be too late. In the meantime, I am posting this quick recipe for these very tender, not-too-sweet muffins. I used some rhubarb jam from last year for the filling. It was made with Pomona's pectin, so it was firm and thus, perfect for this little filled muffin idea. Filling muffins is certainly not a new idea, but it is staunchly a good one! Try muffins made with buttermilk; they are so soft. If you don't have buttermilk, use yogurt instead. And of course, any firm jam will do.

Doesn't this little muffin look sleepy?

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2 cups of AP flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 cup of sugar  (I used sugar with a vanilla bean scraped into it, otherwise add 1 tsp. of vanilla or use real vanilla seeds scraped from the pod)

Mix these dry ingredients.

Then mix in a separate bowl:

1 cup of buttermilk
1 large egg
1/4 cup of vegetable oil

Have on hand a half-pint of jam.

Add the wet mixture to the dry. Mix quickly, but well. Using a well-greased muffin tin, scoop a tablespoonful of batter into each of the twelve spots. Then, using a teaspoon, gently place a small dollop of jam in each spoonful of batter, making a well with the back of the spoon. Then, using the tablespoon, put a scoop of batter on top of each muffin, trying as best you can to cover the jam up. Bake for about twenty minutes, but keep an eye on them after sixteen or so minutes. They should be golden brown, and if any jam escaped (you hope not, but it happens) it will be bubbling.

Raspberry Currant "Pop Tarts" and a Winterlude

Pop tarts. Toast pastries. Jam pies. Whatever. These were emphatically good.

We are now in the deep freeze part of the winter, and the feeling of it is like being in a submarine and slowly dropping lower and lower into the dark ocean. Or what it looks like in the movies when the sonar is going blip blip blip and it gets dark and the actor's brows furrow because they know it is only by some miracle that they are going to escape the deep without the great squid attacking them or something like that. What I'm trying to say, it that it feels pretty bleak right about now, and it's not even February. We've had quite a bit of snow and the cold has been constant and brutal. We had an ice storm this week. Ice storms are completely useless, destructive even, but they are gorgeous when the sun comes out.

This is about as precise as I get.

I'm not trying to complain about the weather here. I know there are colder places, and that there are warmer ones as well. My mother is always telling me how warm it is in Florida (where she is, naturally) when I complain about the cold. But the idea of living in Florida is anathema to me. You see, the cold is horrendous, but winter has its special beauty that I'm not immune to. What I really love, though, is the change of the seasons. There is nothing better in the world than when spring comes. When the wind tosses your hat, and the mud is endless, and thing swell. That, my friends, is what makes winter so tolerable. And honestly, though it feels so far away, it's there. The days are getting longer, have you noticed? We are on our way back to spring.

A crostada for the leftover bits of dough and jam.

A fine thing about winter is the space is allows you to go deep, as it were, into your brain space and try to figure out what all you were chattering on about for the rest of the year. Right now I don't feel an urge towards talking about anything in particular, and a real feeling of hibernation has come over me in which I have taken a few steps back from the computer (just a few, obviously) and returned to the world of books. I'm reading a novel. Gasp! (Cordelia Underwood by Van Reid, if you're curious.) I'm sort of exhausted by cook books, and cooking magazines, and all sorts of cooking things. I like to draw, even if it's silly things that I draw with markers on cardboard. I also like to play guitar and write songs, so I'm doing some of that now too. And going for very cold walks.

Some of my favorite apple trees.

It's not like I'm not cooking, though. These pop tart thingees were amazing. If you google it you'll find a ton of homemade recipes, but I just used pie dough and some raspberry currant jam. I ate them verrrry quickly. And I make a jam or jelly every week. But I'm slowing down a lot. How about you?

A Winner, and more Fig Jam!

Hey! It took me a few days (due to a blasted cold that just. won't. quit!) but I finally got out the trusty random number generator and found a winner of Food Heroes by Georgia Pellegrini: Christine from Fresh Local and Best! Congratulations, Christine! Big thanks to all who participated. I can't tell you how engaged I was by all of the comments. Being the chatty person I am, I really had to restrain myself from responding to every single one of them. Not only did I glean some good reading ideas from all of the comments, but it also made me think about my food heroes.

There are many, but the first ones that come to mind, and the first ones who made an imprint on my mind, and continue to be my food heroes, are my parents. From day one, I was by my mother's side, cooking, baking, gardening and discovering. She made breakfast, lunch and dinner, almost every day without fail, and had the energy to discover how to make croissants, grow currants and make jelly from them, all the while teaching me endlessly, while continuing to be curious and open to new things. My father, though at work during the week, would cook on the weekends, and alongside him I learned the art of a fine gravy, how to make pasta, and that sitting down to dinner was one of the most important times of the day.

One of the greatest things I learned from my parents about cooking is being creative. They consulted cook books but didn't hover over them. Working with what you have on hand is how some of the best meals have come about. The other day, I had a few figs leftover from my big haul. They weren't in a condition to eat out of hand but certainly not out of service. I threw together a quick compote, and it was amazing on a pork tenderloin the other night. What I love about this one, is that there is no sugar in it. Leave it in the fridge, and it should last a month.

Pint of fresh figs, stemmed and halved

Put in a small pan and almost cover the figs with apple cider. Add a small handful of golden sultana raisins, a half of a handful of crystallized ginger (mine was in slices). Bring to a simmer and keep it there for about ten minutes, or until desired consistency. Store in fridge.

Fig Jam with Fennel and Vanilla

Here in the Hudson Valley there are figs growing, but you have to really search them out. These local figs are usually in someone's backyard, attended to with care and dedication by a person who knows just how amazing a fresh fig can be. They usually have to be covered with burlap, or a rug, or newspapers over the long, cold winter. I'm planning on having my own tree one day, but at the moment I have to rely on other devoted fig lovers who might share the bounty. I was looking, but I didn't really expect to find figs this year. It was sort of a little joke I had with myself, that I'd look into someone's yard and see a fig tree. Amazingly, they popped up right under my nose! My local farm market/orchard had some for sale, organic, of course, right off of an aunt's tree. I only found out because I saw a lone price tag for them, but they were all gone.

"Some woman bought them all this morning!" the owner, Peter, said.

"Great," I said, "I'll be that next woman to buy all your figs." I left my number so that when they came in, I would take them all.

Once I came home with the bucket, I ate about ten of them. They were transformational. The perfect size, a fig filled your mouth, soft with some resistance, honeyed and sweet, with a lightly acidic finish. Man, they were good. Peter had asked me what I would do with them. I said I would make jam. He and his father seemed skeptical. "We only eat them fresh off the tree," they said. The older man seemed to think I was nuts to add sugar to these perfect fruits. Maybe they're right, I mused, as I ate my sixth or seventh fig.

But with a bucket of figs, what is one going to do? Eat them all on the spot, and possibly get sick, like a friend of mine once did at his mother's house in France? He had to be admitted to the hospital. (The skin of a fig has a latex-like milky substance in it that some people have allergic reactions to. Especially if you eat a bucket-full.)

I do believe that figs turn into something else when made into jam, and that their delicate, transformative flavor gets lost when cooked. But then you've got to eat that bucket-full pretty dang quick! Here's the jam I made with the bulk of my figs. The rest I ate fresh, out of hand, as they say.

Fig Jam with Fennel and Vanilla

I love figs with fennel and vanilla (see this recipe from last year using dried figs). I used a whole teaspoon in my original recipe, which I thought ended up being too much. I've reduced the amount to 1/2 teaspoon. There is apple pectin stock in here which you can exchange for water. I used it to up the body of the jam. Water is just fine, though you will have a slightly softer set.

2 pounds of fresh figs

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

3 cups of sugar

1/2 teaspoon of fennel seeds

1 vanilla pod (mine was from my homemade vanilla extract)

1/2 cup apple pectin stock

lemon zest

Stem the figs and halve them. If they are large, quarter them. Put them in a pan with the rest of the ingredients and bring them to a boil. Let the mixture boil for about fifteen minutes, or when you think it has set to your liking. This will be a soft, or runny, jam, so don't expect it to set fully. Ladle it into hot jars and process for ten minutes.

September Tigress Can Jam: Nectarine Jam

Thanks to Kate at Hip Girls Guide to Homemaking, we did not miss out on stone fruits this year of the Tigress' Can Jam! That's a big shout out to all fruits with pits, or stones, in them, like peaches, nectarines, plums, apricots and cherries.

It started like this: I had waaaayyy too many nectarines, and the last of them needed to be canned, stat. I sliced them all up and had them sitting around in sugar. With one batch, I made Nectarine Sauce with Noyaux Liqueur. Check out my inspiration, Pirate Peaches by Local Kitchen. I didn't use her procrastinaty method, but it's a good one. I merely macerated the fruit with sugar and boiled it up to my preferred consistency, added some liqueur at the end.

With the second batch, I made some straight up, super simple, Nectarine Jam. I've been really enjoying Hitchhiking to Heaven's recipe for Yellow and White Peach Jam, which I've used in various incarnations this summer.

I don't usually use commercial pectin, instead I like to rely on the fruit's natural pectin or pectin from an apple stock. But I'm not against ever using commercial pectin. Sometimes it's fun. And I understand why it was developed. It makes things super quick. Back in the day, some hard working women thanked their lucky stars for pectin. It cut down on fuel use and time (however, it did up the sugar). I had some Pomona's Universal Pectin hanging around, so I used the rest of it in this jam giving it the pectin boost it needed, nectarines being a low pectin fruit.

Have a go at nectarines. Many say they are peaches without the skin to remove, but I find they have some special charms of their own!

Nectarine Jam

3 pounds, pitted and sliced

2 cups of sugar

Combine the nectarines with the sugar and let them sit in the fridge for 6 to 8 hours.

Put this mixture in your jam pot and add:

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

2 teaspoons of calcium water

Bring to a boil. While it heats, crush the fruit with a potato masher, my fruit-crusher of choice. You can do what you want here, depending on your tastes. Let the mixture boil for about ten minutes.

Have ready and mixed in a small bowl:

2 teaspoons of sugar

2 teaspoons of powdered pectin*

Add this to the fruit. Cook for two minutes. Turn off the heat and ladle into hot half-pint jars. Process in a boiling water bath for ten minutes.

* Please note that this is for Pomona's Universal Pectin, which is not as complex as it may seem. They have lots of directions on the package, but mine differs slightly. You can buy this kind of pectin, which allows you to lower your sugar amounts, at health food stores or online.

Wild Berry Jam

Who doesn't love scoring something for free?

I am all for it. Especially when it's blackberries...

and raspberries.

It's enough to make a girl want to celebrate!

Here's my take on a mixed berry jam. I had my doubts, but it came out perfectly. I was worried about a slight bitterness in the blackberries, that I think was due to our hot, dry summer. And the gel was suspect. But in the end, the flavor smoothed out and the gel gelled. I think I can thank the nice set to the many under ripe blackberries I picked.

9 cups of berries, I did raspberries and black berries

3 cups of sugar

2 tablespoons of lemon juice

Put them all in your pot and slowly bring to a boil. Mine set at 216 degrees, and that took sixteen minutes, from boil time to turning off the heat. I processed for ten minutes.

Note: my measurements are pretty standard for berry jam, based on a quite a few books I consulted, however, I like to always point out that I have not tested these. My recipe is closest to Linda Ziedrich's recipe from Joy of Jams and Jellies, but her recipe uses weight and mine volume on the berries.

And this is what happens when you try to use a sweet little jar you found in your grandma-in-law's basement. A sweet mess all over.

Blueberry Jam with Pineapple Mint and Pineapple Sage

Blueberries are still happening! Is it me, or does this seem like a long season? I'm always amazed by fruit. Isn't it the most incredible thing to see rows and rows of bushes heavy with blueberries? I visited Greig Farms in Red Hook for their no-spray blues which go for $2.50 a pound. There is a lot to visit on their rural block, what with Alison Vineyards, Gigi Market, and Grandiflora.

Somebody had a lot of fun picking their favorite fruit. Add to that some tractors and goats down the block at Gigi's, and then the pond at Grandiflora with huge koi in it. Well, all that adds up to a good nap for a little two-year old boy on the ride home. And a good quiet ride home equals time to think of what to make with the huge bucket of blueberries sitting politely on the passenger seat. The following recipe is one of three blueberry jam recipes I've made to date.

Blueberry Jam with Pineapple Mint and Pineapple Sage

2 cups apple pectin stock*

2 T lemon juice

3 cups of sugar

4 cups of blueberries

Sprigs of mint and sage to taste

Add everything to your jamming pot, minus three cups of blueberries. At medium-high heat, dissolve the sugar and bring to a boil. When the mixture boils, add the three cups of blueberries, which you have lightly mashed. The temperature will lower, naturally. When it reaches a boil again, watch for the gel stage. My jam set very well at 216 degrees on a candy thermometer. Skim the beautiful magenta foam well! At the very end, before you turn off the heat, add the leaves of mint and sage in a cheesecloth and let them swim for a minute, depending on how herb-y you want your jam. Process for ten minutes in a boiling water bath.

*I used 4 lbs. of green, wild apples, quartered with blossom end and stems removed in a heavy pot, covered with water. Boil for 30 to 45 minutes, until fruit is soft. Strain twice for clarity. You will have a thick, viscous liquid that can be frozen for later use.

I didn't add much mint and sage, or let them steep too long, but they did impart a distinct flavor, that I think added a green aspect to the otherwise sweet berry taste that straight-up blueberry jam has. I did pick quite a few green berries, and I think that upped the pectin content, in addition to the pectin from the apples.

Carol Channing Jam

I don't post videos, but this is a major exception. A must see. Carol Channing is sheer genius. "Never ever jam today!"

Props to Eve for sending me this!

Jam Cake

Now that the new canning has begun, there are a few old jars (by old, I mean from late last summer) that need to be used up. I canned a lot of plums last year, and I'm on my last four jars of jam. And of course, there are quite a few open jars in the fridge from all of this year's work. The other day, early in the morning I made this cake. It's very moist and dense, due to the jam and olive oil. Not a refined cake for company necessarily, but a perfect breakfast cake.

Mix in a large bowl:

1 1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

Whisk until light:

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup olive oil

Add in and beat well:

3 large eggs

Then add in:

1/4 cup or milk or yogurt

Add the flour mixture into the egg mixture.

Then beat in:

1 half-pint of jam

Bake at 350 degrees in a 9-inch plain tube cake pan for thirty minutes. Let cool at least ten minutes before unmolding.

Mulberry Rhubarb Lemon Jam

For this month's installment of the Tigress Can Jam, the pick of the month, courtesy of the amazingly prolific and expansive Joel and Dana of Well Preserved, was berries. I can't wait for the round-up on this one. Who doesn't love berries? There are so many of them, and because this season has been incredibly early, we are rolling in them right about now. My strawberry patch stopped producing a while ago, and I thankfully caught the very end of the season at a local organic strawberry farm just the other day. I've gone across the Hudson river to pick black, red and pink currants, as my three highly productive bushes got completely cleaned out one day. (I think the culprit was a chipmunk and some birds. My fault I didn't have them netted.) Raspberries are everywhere in the wild, the small black variety and wineberries, a similar wild raspberry. The big red ones are right on their heels. And though elderberries are the size of a poppy seed, their flowers are everywhere and can make a nice syrup or liqueur. So. What do make?

A few years back, there was a small mulberry tree grappling for a space among a thatch of honeysuckle bushes. I cut back all the bushes and let the tree grow. Mulberry trees are the forgotten berry tree, even though they are everywhere and seedling pop up in cement cracks. I think people used to appreciate them more, but now they are considered just a nuisance. When I was a child, we had a large black-berried tree right next to the back door. We would spend a good portion of the summer in it. Mulberry trees are great for climbing, they have low limbs and many of them. My mother once told me a story about how mulberry tree leaves were what silk worms were fed in order to create silk. I promptly began eating the leaves, which are edible, and at the time, quite tasty. One day, my mother decided that she had had enough of the big, black berries staining the doorway, and it was cut down. I was a miserable teenager at the time, so I'm sure I pretended to not care or was outraged and indignant, one of the two---or perhaps both.

This year I was thrilled when the tree promised to have a good yield of berries. We have a white mulberry tree, which pales in comparison to the trees with black berries, both in color and taste. My son, who is almost two, and I would walk past the tree every day to let out the chickens and graze on the berries. They are mild and lack acidity, but they are sweet and free for the taking. They lasted about two weeks, and at the end they really plumped out and took on a pinkish hue. Then, suddenly the birds took over, and they declared the season over. I neglected to take a picture of them while they were hanging in the tree. Early in the morning, it's hard to remember the camera, which isn't so bad a thing really. But I now realize there isn't one good picture of the white mulberries. Can you see them floating around with the rhubarb and lemon down there in the pot?

This jam didn't gel up too much, just like my rhubarb jam from last month, but it's incredibly delicious. I think there was a bit too much sugar in it. The taste is sweet and yet still tart, and the texture is wonderful. Strands of chewy lemon, chunks of rhubarb, and mulberries all retained their shape and became candied.

2 cups of mulberries (don't worry about those little stems, you can eat them!)

1 cup of rhubarb, diced

1 medium lemon, sliced finely

3 cups of sugar

Boil in a heavy pot until gel stage is reached, usually at around 220 degrees if you are using a thermometer. Process in boiling water for ten minutes. Makes three half-pints.

A walk down the block finds many black-berried mulberry trees, and the other day when I was looking out for a particularly good branch I had found earlier, I spied, thankfully, a large black rat snake, hanging out in the branch. Do snakes eat mulberries? Or was it just a really nice hot spot? I didn't linger to ask.