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.