Gratitude and jam

One learns a different kind of appreciation for food when they grow it, harvest it and prepare it themselves. Or you would think they do. As a child, I was deeply connected to the earth, the Puget Sound, the garden, the forest...I didn't know it or at least I don't think I did. My food pyramid consisted largely of things grown, raised or caught by my parents or grandparents with the occasional box of cereal thrown in. As a young adult I floated away from these food ways but was slowly pulled back in my adventures as a waitress.  But it was only when I prepared my essay for admission to Bastyr that I really began thinking how full circle I'd really come. I recalled my great grandfather harvesting seaweed that had washed up on the beach and adding it to the compost which fed the new potatoes (which when steamed and topped with butter was nothing short of what some may call heaven), pumpkins and everything else he tended in those not so square patches. I would later learn how amazing seaweed is but also the importance of awareness and gratitude.

My academic path at Bastyr began at another not so square patch of earth tended by Rick and Lora Lea Misterly at a little place called Quillisascut Farm. It was a two-credit elective offered the summer prior to starting my "real" classes. It was so far from Seattle, or so it seemed. My drive to Rice Washington felt like a massive disconnect from my urban community. The drive home would be profoundly different. While I was there I learned to milk goats, make cheese, butcher and break down animals, bake bread and make jam and pickles. We would harvest the food that we cooked together, ate together, and then we would save, compost or share the leftovers with the animals.  I learned and did more than just this but what I gained from this experience is hard to put into words. On my drive home I had never felt more connected to my planet, my community and myself and I felt an anchor pulling me back to my roots.

Looking back it seems like a big red arrow pointing in the direction that I find myself now and when I made strawberry jam this morning from my own strawberries that I grew and I picked with rose petal syrup that I made myself, I felt a deep appreciation for the moment, for the path and for the future. I coddled those berries and reminded myself that even when I don't use my own fruit that someone grew it, tended to it and picked it just the same (or I'd like to think they did) and I should treat it as such.

The jam I made is loosely adapted from Christine Ferber's Mes Confitures and was somewhat labor intensive. The following recipe can be made in a day (not three) and is a bit more user friendly. If you're up for the three day challenge, let me know. 


Strawberry Jam
Recipe from the Blue Chair Jam Cookbook, yields about sixteen 6 oz. jars

8 lb. hulled large strawberries 
84 oz. (or 5 lbs. 4 oz) evaporated cane juice
12 oz. fresh squeezed lemon juice, strained

Place a few spoons in the freezer to start, this will be used to test the jam. In four large non-reactive pots/pan, combine the sugar, berries and 8 oz. lemon juice over medium low heat. Using a heatproof rubber spatula, stir the berries constantly. After a few minutes, the mixture will foam and rise; raise the heat a bit and stir constantly. 

Boil for 20-30 minutes, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom to make sure it doesn't stick. If it does stick, lower the heat a bit. Cook until the foam subsides and the berries have a "shinier look, saturated with liquid." At this point, add the remaining lemon juice. Lower the heat slightly and stir frequently for another 3-5 minutes. Take a non-frozen spoon and scoop some of the jam onto a frozen spoon. Place it back in the freezer for 3-4 minutes; the underside of the spoon should neither be hot or cold. Test for doneness by tilting the spoon to see how quickly the jam runs. It should be "gloopy"- if it's too runny, cook for a few more minutes

Ladle the jam into the jars. Seal and place back in the oven at 250 degress F for another 15 minutes. Allow to sit out overnight to cool, do not distrupt. The next day, store the jams in a dark, cool space.

Sitting on a goldmine

I live next to a secret garden. It's actually an overgrown lot but it was once a meticulously maintained garden with vintage roses, dahlias and wisteria that once graced the pages of Pacific Northwest Magazine and House Beautiful (really). It originally belonged to the owners of my home but they sold the lot and my house separately. There was to be a small home build and much of the garden was to be preserved. That was three years ago. Those plans were scratched and the owners of the lot moved north. Three years can do a number on a garden that is not maintained. One can barely find the paths that wind their way through. But this morning as I fingered through my cookbooks, I realized what I had; what I'd been ignoring all these years. I had appreciated the beauty of the blossoms, the greenery, the scents and the privacy of a secret garden next door but I hadn't thought of the culinary uses. Until this morning, that is. 

So I took to the garden (okay, I know its not my property but no one is using it) with a bag and my dog, Rico. We forged our own path collecting about ten different varieties of rose petals; some big, some small, and all fragrant. I carefully rinsed them, removed any visible creatures and placed them in a large pot with some sugar and water. The result was a sweet infusion of the goldmine that I've been sitting on and it's as good or better than any rose petal syrup I've ever had. 

Rose Petal Syrup

This syrup will make a fantastic co-star in strawberry jam as well as highlighting a champagne cocktail. Make sure your roses are unsprayed. 

Adapted from countless simple syrup recipes. 

2 cups water

2 evaporated cane juice

8 cups rose petals

1. In large stainless steel or copper pot add water and sugar. Heat on medium high heat to dissolve.

2. Add rose petals and simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 20-30 minutes. 

3. Remove from heat and let sit for about 30-60 more minutes or until desired flavor is reached. 

4. Strain syrup through a fine sieve. Discard petals.

5. Pour syrup into very clean or sterilized jars. Refrigerate for 3-6 months. You can also process by the water bath method according the the jar manufacturers instructions and keep in your pantry for up to a year. 

Yield: About 1 quart

Time: 60-90 minutes

super yum

Fresh

Here it is. The first post. I've been meaning to start this blog for exactly five months and twenty one days but didn't want to begin until I could commit. So here it is; my first blog post and my commitment to it.

I'm inspired by many things this week. The most compelling would be graduating with an undergraduate degree in Nutrition and Culinary Arts from Bastyr University at the age of 40. Yahoo! I did earn an education, yes, but the lessons and the friendships and the path I found along the way are far more valuable than the paper that proclaims me an educated woman. None the less, I will hang this paper on the wall above the computer at which I sit now.  I'm also inspired by my classmates who are already doing great work and will no doubt make this planet better for us all. I have the great fortune of knowing such exceptional people.

My inspiration this morning began when I started picking a handful of strawberries from my yard but soon realized that my hands could not hold what I could pick. This would be the first year that I could fill a bowl of ripe strawberries at one time. Not enough for a batch of jam but enough to get the recipe wheels turning, fill my belly and still have a few left over to share (or not). Strawberry jam is a classic but its not an easy thing. The fruit is so delicate and the flavor is easily botched by heat, too much sugar or both. I have a few ideas to preserve the integrity of this lovely fruit while adding a little innovation but this will have to wait until tomorrow as there are no farmers markets within a reasonable distance in Seattle today. Don't worry, I'll share the outcome. Until then, here's another idea for preserving the flavor.