In a Jam

Having access to to a garden as well as fruit trees means a sometimes overwhelming amount of abundance.  Waste not, want not, as the old saying goes, and as a true believer, I've learned about how to eat all sorts of things that I never saw in grocery stores before, from garlic scapes to radish seed pods to fennel flowers.

The gorgeous hot summer weather this year meant another bumper crop of blueberries and Rainier cherries at the farm.  My dad's yard was also producing lots of Italian plums and I had also found nearby the farm a bunch of wild Damson plum trees loaded with fruit that I also *had* to pick.  Having way too much fruit seems like a silly problem to have, but since I hate to waste food and there's only so much I can stuff my face with or foist upon friends, family, and strangers, I decided to learn how to can.

Canning is something that I'd been interested in learning more about since starting a garden, but my only real exposure was when Thom showed me how to can green beans a few years back.  It just seemed like it took a lot of effort, what with all the jars and the lids and the pots and other various canning supplies one needed.  With a kitchen already stuffed full, I was hesitant to start up another project that required buying stuff only used for this one activity.  Also, there were lots of warnings about food poisoning, botulism, and other not-so-pleasant cootie action that can get you if you don't properly can the food and investigating all the various means not to kill yourself (or others) wasn't all that exciting too me.  However, "how hard can it be?" is not my maxim for nothing, so with a little creativity in the equipment department and a lot of googling to make sure I was on the right track and wouldn't kill anyone, I got started.

The first investment I decided to make was a cherry pitter.  Now I had been told by the ever-resourceful Linda that one could make a pitter out of a paper clip, but seeing that I had pounds upon pounds of cherries, I decided to take the easy route.  Good thing too, as it worked like a dream and also made quick work of the Damson plums, and when Linda gave it a try herself, she promptly went out and bought one, too.

Beyond that, for canning, one needs jars, lids, a pot that's tall enough to cover one's jars with at least an inch of water, a rack or something to put the jars on in the pot so it doesn't rest directly on the pot, a jar lifter, and a funnel to get started.  There are lots of "canning kits" out there that include the pot, rack, and all the equipment, or just the equipment minus the pot; however, not being one who likes to invest in things upfront that I might never use again, I improvised.  I used a pasta pot that I had, which was tall enough to can half-pint jars although not the quart sized ones.  (I originally had bought pint jars, but then realized that a pint of jam was quite a lot and switched it out for the half-pint size instead.) So that limited my canning to smaller amounts, which was probably a good thing at this early stage.  Instead of a jar lifter, I borrowed my friend's "plate retriever tongs" (a tool that Chinese people use for lifting hot plates out of steamers or rice cookers).  She also had a little round cake rack that fit into my pot, and instead of a funnel, I decided to just use a measuring cup, figuring that would help me to pour precisely enough into the jars.  Since it was my first time canning, I didn't have any jars or lids, so I went to the store and got a dozen for about ten dollars.  If you are reusing old jars, all you need are new lids since old lids will not seal properly.  With that, I had the basics covered.

Besides what equipment one actually needs, I would say one of the most confusing things about canning is the whole debate about whether or not to use commercial pectin in your jams.  Pectin is found naturally in fruit with some fruit having higher concentrations and others having lower ones.  When heated long enough with sugar and lemon juice, the naturally occurring pectin in fruit causes it to gel, thus creating the spreadable goodness we associate with jam.  (This article titled "Jam Making 101" has a pretty good explanation of how it all works).  However, some of the lower pectin fruits like strawberries or blueberries take longer to gel, and the longer fruit is cooked, the less fresh it tastes and the longer one has to spend stirring and stirring at a hot stove.  So, one can buy powdered or liquid pectin at the store to cut down on cook time and still have a firm to quite firm jam or jelly.  Many of the recipes that I read though, especially more contemporary ones, seemed to avoid using commercial pectin for various reasons like cost, taste, or texture, thus leaving one to more of a trial and error in terms of knowing how long to cook the jam for.  The other difficulty I had with most recipes was that a lot of them called for a lot of sugar.  Many of the recipes were almost 2/3 sugar, which seemed pointless to me because the flavor of the fruit was just masked with it.  However, because sugar is a preservative, there were many warnings of how not adding enough sugar might result in jam that goes bad quickly.

In my first attempt, I decided to forgo the effort it would take to pit several pounds of cherries and go with the blueberries that I already had in the fridge.  After reading what seemed like an endless number of variations of the same, I went with  a recipe from Food in Jars for blueberry jam that had me add in only 3 Tablespoons of commercial pectin rather than the whole box as some of the other recipes called for.  I eliminated the spices because I wanted just pure blueberry this first time.

When making jam, the fruit goes through various stages as the water from the fruit is boiled off.  It oftentimes starts with a vigorous boil and foam before settling down to more small bubbles as it thickens.  Then you test it by putting a dab on a cold plate in the freezer to see if it has thickened enough.  However, since it was my first time trying out making the jam, I didn't know at all what I was supposed to be looking for so I just kept the jam boiling until it seemed pretty firm on the cold plate.  I poured them into the jars, wiped the mouth, put on the lids, and then popped them back into the water to can.  When I took them out, one by one, the little popping sound that signals a success in terms of sealing the jam occurred, so I considered that a success.

The next day, after the jam had cooled, I of course had to try one to see how it all turned out and it was okay.  Yes, just okay because first, I had clearly overcooked the jam.  It was not quite like cranberry jelly sliding out of the can, but it definitely had a crisp quality to it that was not what I liked in my jam.  The second thing was that it was just too sweet and a little too lemony.  In my anxiety not to poison anyone, I had included more sugar than I liked and also added extra lemon juice, both preservatives.  I like my fruit jam to taste like fruit, and so I was determined to experiment a little more in the next batch.

Having one jamming experience under my belt, I decided to get a little more ambitious and try a Rainier Cherry recipe.  There aren't a lot of recipes online for this sort of sweet cherry as Bings are usually less expensive and not everyone has access to a Rainier cherry tree.  I decided to use David Leibowitz's "No-recipe Cherry Jam" recipe, which, as it says, wasn't really a recipe but more about proportions of fruit and sugar.  Even though he said to use 3/4 the amount of sugar to cherries, I dialed it back to more about half and it was still quite sweet.  But it set up nicely and without the pectin, I didn't have to worry about the jam jelling too firmly.  Instead, I used up a lot of plates trying to tell if the jam was ready.  Ultimately, it turned out decently.

This experiment was followed by this plum jam, and then this one, peach jam, as well as apricot jam and finally apple butter.  After the third recipe, I broke down and went and bought a kit from the store that included the jar lifter and the funnel.  Those were definitely worth the investment as hot boiling water and hot boiling fruit are both not nice against the skin.

At the end of all this, I think I can now say that I can can.  At least I can can fruit jam; vegetables and other things are another level I have yet to attain.  Seeing all the jewel-like jars lined up on the kitchen counter and knowing that all year I'll be able to taste the abundance of summer is definitely satisfying.  Also, being able to share the bounty of summer in a form that's not so ephemeral as "eat this now before it rots!" has also been fun.  Homegrown and homemade is not that easy to come by these days, at least in my circles, but it's so appreciated and I think generally speaking, there is a revival of sorts going on in this area as well.

As for the whole pectin, no pectin debate, whether it's the supermarket version or the low-sugar Pomona's version, I enter my preference as no pectin.  I like being able to control the viscosity of the jam by cooking time rather than how much commercial pectin I add and I generally like a looser jam, so it fits my preference.  I also usually end up with pectin blobs in the jam when I use it or overly "crunchy" jam although it may just be that I don't understand how to follow directions in regards to using commercial pectin (definitely nothing new here!).  As for adding too little sugar to my jams, I have yet to poison anyone; perhaps I need to add a "eat at your own risk" label to my jars that I give away. :)  Ultimately, I realize that jam making is about proportions and rules of thumb rather than preciseness; one must be able to adapt according to how ripe the fruit is and how sweet it is rather than being tied down to exact measurements in a recipe.  I'm done putting up for the year, but look forward to the next season of abundance now that I can can.

More Than Enough
By Marge Piercy

The first lily of June opens its red mouth.

All over the sand road where we walk

multiflora rose climbs trees cascading

white or pink blossoms, simple, intense

the scene drifting like colored mist.

The arrowhead is spreading its creamy

clumps of flower and the blackberries

are blooming in the thickets. Season of

joy for the bee. The green will never

again be so green, so purely and lushly

new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads

into the wind. Rich fresh wine

of June, we stagger into you smeared

with pollen, overcome as the turtle

laying her eggs in roadside sand.

Saving Summer

These next series of posts are written by guest blogger Thom Lee, who doth protest too much that he's just a regular guy. Now Thom claims he's a Luddite who cannot figure out how to use a blog but I think he's just affecting a learned helplessness in order to get some dumb schmuck (ahem!) to do the dirty work for him. But since he's getting paid no peanuts (at least that would be something!) no nothing for his lovely photos and informative posts, it's the least I can do . He's also got a steel-trap for a mind so enjoy his essays on food preservation!

Late summer is a time of great abundance in the temperate world. Freshness is the flavor of the season and as the full spectrum of the sun is reflected in the rich hues of the garden. A great joy of this time of year is picking fruits and vegetables directly from the yard just before preparing it and tasting the time and effort invested in the throughout the year. 

Unfortunately, this season is short in the Pacific Northwest. To some, it seems that the region goes from spring to fall without a season in between. So it’s important to take advantage of the season by savoring its entire flavor. But in some cases, the season can be extended by preserving the bounty. 

I am heartened to note that many people still engage in traditional food preservation techniques such as canning, pickling, and making jams and other sweet preserves. These methods yield wonderful foods, but the result is a new flavor that is a distortion on the reality of the season, sort of a culinary equivalent of the shadows on the walls of Plato’s cave. But there is one summer flavor that can remain intact throughout the year: The grape leaf. 

Growing grapes in Western Washington is an iffy endeavor. The summers are too short and mild for most of the standard wine grapes, but there are several cultivars of table grapes that occasionally fare well. Most people think of grapes solely for their fruit, but the plant has many other uses. The canes can be used in basketry or burned to make drawing charcoal; seeds can be pressed for their valuable oil; moreover, the leaves are an excellent food source. 

Possibly the most common culinary use of the grape leaf is the Dolma: leaves stuffed with rice, meats and/or various vegetables. In America, these are most often associated with Mediterranean food, but they are common throughout the Arabic world, Eastern Europe, and South Asia. 

Grape leaves, however, can also be used as an edible wrap for other foods. In fact I love using them on the grill as a protective and flavorful cover. The leaf holds the contents together, allowing them to be manipulated on the grill. For example fresh goat cheese can be wrapped in grape leaves then grilled until the leaf starts to char. Scoop it up with some fresh bread, and enjoy with olives and sun-dried tomatoes! Perhaps my favorite way of enjoying them is to wrap them around salmon (see the “Savoring Summer” essay for further details). Now THAT is the taste of summer for me. 

In the summer, grape leaves are abundant and can be blanched and used immediately, but what about the rest of the year? Fortunately, they can be successfully preserved. Commercially, they can be purchased pickled in brine containing salt and citric acid. Of course this can be done at home, but this would cast them as images on the walls of Platos cave. A much easier way is to preserve grape leaves is to blanch and freeze them. They freeze beautifully and retain their fresh summery flavor. Here is the process: 

Start out by collecting grape leaves. If you don’t have your own grape vine, chances are there is one in your neighborhood. People are generally generous with their leaves because they are usually available in abundance.

Select leaves that are fairly round, and not deeply lobed. This will assist greatly in wrapping. The leaf should also be mature and firm and not young and flimsy. Any size leaf will work, but I generally select the larger ones because I’m a big-portions kind of guy. Make sure that the petiole (stalk) is still attached.

Holding the leaf by the petiole, dip it in boiling salt solution (1/4 cup salt to a quart of water or so). The leaf will wilt and relax and turn a deep olive green in about ten seconds. Set these leaves aside in a bowl to cool. If tasted at this stage, they will be tough, salty, and slightly sour.

Remove the petioles (using a knife, kitchen scissors or teeth), and make a stack of ten or so. Fold into thirds and seal in locking freezer bags, making sure to press out any excess air.

Make lots and freeze. They should keep well until a new crop of fresh leaves is available. To use, thaw, rinse, and wrap! Enjoy!

I Can Can!

I refuse to believe it though the signs are there: summer is coming to an end. I've started seeing geese in V formation flying around, there are yellowing leaves on the lawn, kids are going back to school, and just yesterday, I saw the ultimate sign of fall beginning: a Starbucks advertisement for its Pumpkin Spice Latte. Noooooooooooo! I'm not ready!

One of the things I've become interested in as I've learned more about local eating is food preservation. During the bounty of harvest season, canning or preserving what you grow in the summer to eat during the winter months is an ideal way to get around the conundrum of how to keep your food miles low while eating more than cabbage. It also preserves the last vestiges of summer as the inevitable slide into fall begins. (Noooooooooooo!) I didn't grow up with any experience of canning but luckily, local homesteader Thom, who doth protest too much he's just a regular guy, graciously offered to give me a lesson on how to can fresh beans. We used the Romanos and scarlet runner beans he grew in the backyard as well as my measly harvest of green beans and those grown by my friend May's grandma in her backyard. I showed up on a sunny Friday afternoon and the whole process, from picking the beans in the backyard to cooling jars of beans on the counter took about 2 hours. Not bad for something that can last you all year.

In order to can, you will need the following:
1. About a dozen sterilized pickling/canning jars and lids with a rubber gasket to keep out the cootie action. Get jars that are about the size of whatever it is you are canning so you don't have to do a lot of trimming. We used 12 oz straight-sided jars with a twist on lid.
2. A processor, which is really a big metal pot deep enough to immerse the jars into. They usually come with an insert to hold jars upright as you heat them and are convenient for pulling out the really hot finished products. Thom used a bunch of ornamental pebbles at the bottom to disperse the bubbles made by the boiling water instead with the added bonus that he could fit more jars into the processor.
3. 1/2 tsp. of alum powder
4. 5 C white distilled vinegar.
5. 5 C water.
6. 1/2 C canning salt which is pure and has no added agents. Do not use regular salt because it contains iodine and an anti-caking agent which causes the flavor to be off when canning. In a pinch (pun intended), you can also use Kosher salt though it is less dense so you may need to add in a bit more.
7. Various seasonings, which traditionally include dill (Get the whole stalks of dill that are about 5 feet tall with the yellow flowers. They are gorgeous in the jars and make your house smell yummy to boot.) and garlic but can include whatever else the pickler's creativity leads him/her. In our case, we put about 1 clove of garlic and a dill flower and sprig of leaf per jar as well as about a 1/2 tsp black peppercorns, 1/3 tsp mustard seeds, 1 bay leaf, 1/2 a hot sweet pepper, and 1 tsp of salted black beans as the umami maker (more on that in a future post).
8. About 3 lbs of fresh beans for about a dozen jars. They can be all one type or a mix.

To get started, again, make sure that all the jars have been sterilized (putting them through the dishwasher is easiest. If they are new, run them through with just hot water. If used, clean with detergent and then run them through with just hot water again.) Put the lids with the rubber gaskets in some hot water and keep warm so the rubber remains soft. Do not boil.



Wash and trim your beans, chopping any too large to fit into the jars down to size. You want to have about a 1/2" head room in the jars so the beans should be a bit shorter than the jar. Be sure to remove all cats from the counter before you start or your jars may not be vegetarian (cat hair!). We lined up all the beans in the colander facing the same direction to make it easier to put in the jars, so Thom said, but I think it's really because of his OCD.


At this point, you want to make the pickle brine. It is usually 50/50 water and vinegar and in our case, we used 5 C of each and then added 1/2 a cup of canning salt. Add the allum powder at this point in order to preserve the crunchiness of the bean. Bring to a simmer and keep warm on the stove as you fill the jars.



Now is when the fun really begins. Begin by putting a dill flower and a sprig of leaf as well as a clove of garlic (bashed in to let the flavors out) in each jar. Add the peppercorns and mustard seeds and then tilt the jar and start stuffing the beans in. Put enough in so they fill the jar but are not overly crowded. Put the pepper in on the side as well as a bay leaf and then sprinkle the black beans on top. If you prefer more sweetness in your pickling, you can add in spices like allspice or cloves.



Once you've got your beans and spices in, you are ready to add the brine. Pour the brine from the stovetop into a measuring cup for easier pouring and then fill the jars up, leaving about a 1/2" head space in the jars. Then tighten on the warmed caps and deposit the jars into the processor and bring the water to a boil for about ten minutes.



After ten minutes, lift the jars out and set them on the counter to cool. The top of the lids will be convex and as they cool, will emit a popping sound and the lids will flatten out. The beans will be floating towards the top of the jar and have turned a different shade of green. As they marinate in the brine, they will begin to settle down in the jars. For optimal flavor, let them sit in their own juices for at least 2 weeks.



I can't wait to try them! These jars are definitely not going to last until winter but now that I know how straightforward canning can be, next summer I'm going to plant more beans with the hopes of being able to have at least one jar left by wintertime.