This weekend I have been mostly rummaging in the bushes in my village and slaving over a hot stove. The product of my labours? Numerous jars of damson and apple and blackberry jam.
On saturday morning, in the unseasonal sunshine we wandered up lanes and over the local golf course picking blackberries, apples and sloes. The bushes were heaving with fruit, so much so that I hope to go back next weekend (possibly with a stepladder!) and get the berries we left behind this time. I learnt the hard way that blackberry picking is one of natures lessons teaching you not to be hasty and greedy. My arms are scratched all over where I got carried away and reached through the thorny brambles for the gorgeous, shiny, onyx-like berries. Yet only when the purple berry juice started mixing with my blood did I decide to slow down... and to take gloves next time.
Today (Sunday) I've been turning the rich pickings into jam, not the sloes though, I left those for my fellow fruit pickers to turn into sloe gin and sloe vodka which I fully intend to sample in the not too distant future.
I also had two carrier bags full (6kg) of damsons donated to me from the tree in my bosses garden. These have proved to be one of the most costly presents i've ever been given as I've had to buy kilner jars to keep the jam in as well as the sugar, wax circles, funnel etc. Hopefully the jam will turn out well enough to be given as presents and enjoyed on toast for many many hundreds of years to come. But until then I ought to go and find somewhere to keep this mountain of jam.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment