And Now, For Words

I took the trouble to take all these photos and got them downloaded and everything, so I guess I might as well put them here. Of course, that requires words, too. I'll do my best.

I decided to make peach jam with all those peaches we were given, mostly so I could give some peach jam to the peach-givers. I didn't have any pectin, though, and the nearest store that carries it is I think about fifty miles away. I have a recipe that calls for two Granny Smith apples to use as a natural pectin source, but I didn't have those, either.

When I mentioned that to A., however, he reminded me of all the random apple trees on abandoned properties all over the village. (There are quite a few abandoned properties here.) Oh yeah.

I was going for a wan* yesterday morning anyway, so I took a route through some of the village streets and sure enough, I found an apple tree with small green apples at an abandoned house. No one was there--if someone had been there, I would have explained and asked for some apples in exchange for jam, of course--and I didn't even have to leave the road to pick the apples, so I figured a few green apples wouldn't be missed.

As soon as I got home, I put Poppy down for her morning nap, and Jack and I got to work.

I put the peaches in boiling water, then in ice water. Jack took them out of the ice water and peeled them for me.

He was actually quite competent with this.

I pitted and diced the peaches, then put them in a pot with sugar to cook for awhile. While they were cooking, I cut up the apples, putting the cores in a cheesecloth bag, as per instructions.

Seriously. A cheesecloth bag of apple cores. This gives you an indication of what a pain in the ass this recipe was.

After the peaches had gotten soft, I strained out the juices and put the juice back in the pot to boil with the apples and cores, until it had reduced and gotten syrupy. Then the peaches went back in the pot with some lemon juice. Thankfully, I had just purchased lemons with no particular purpose in mind for them and had just enough for this recipe.

It was supposed to boil until a dab of it was thick on a chilled plate. I hate this instruction. I can NEVER figure out if jam or jelly is done with the chilled plate method. Thankfully, the recipe specifically stated that the jam never actually gels, so I just boiled it until it seemed thick to me.

Just as I was finishing up the jam and getting ready to can it, Poppy woke up. So the canning was done with her crawling around on the floor.

And Jack stationed by the stove in his chair. Not so helpful this time.

Start to finish, it took three hours. For three pints of jam. 

Worth it? Jury's out.

Well, we also peeled the remainder of the peaches and mashed them up with honey to mix with yogurt, so that was another quart and a half.

And it is really good jam.

Then today when I had to cook chicken to make an enchilada casserole, I realized I would not be able to freeze the resulting stock. Because the only freezer I have is the one above the refrigerator, and it's jam-packed with meat.

So I had to pressure can the stock. 

I did, and let the canner properly come down to 0 PSI and let everything decompress. But when I took the jars out, two of them spit and on one, the lid and ring flew right off.

What the hell?

The stock didn't spray everywhere, and luckily no one was nearby at the time, but I was still unhappy. Only three quarts of the five actually sealed.

Dammit.

I don't have pictures of that, though.

The end.

* I just made this word up. I walk as much as I run, so I'm gonna call it a wan. Get it? I know. My cleverness amazes even me.