Today I made apricot jam.
Forgive me a moment’s holier-than-thou-ness as I inform you, with the smuggest of authority, that it is the best feeling to have made your own jam.
The sweat steam! The jewel-like colour! The heavenly smell! The lack of food miles! The absence of commercial preservatives!
I used, of course, the Edmonds* recipe. Miss Bee was stomping around actually (non-ironically, although she can do irony) wearing gumboots and a ‘New Zealand!’ t-shirt (like this one but less
humorous true … WMBWT post to come). I was feeling soooo kiwi, and the whole experience was very homely actually, apart from the fact that I was using a Hungarian bogrács, rather than my mum’s old jam pan.
To summarise: (1) chuck in fruit and sugar, (2) boil the crap out of it, (3) pour into hot clean jars, (4) sit on verandah with cold white wine, (5) feel smug.
Nothin’ to it.
I’ll let you know tomorrow whether it’s actually set or not … (you may be witness to a retraction of a couple of degrees of smugness, if I’m being honest).
Mr A swears that turning the jars upside down is the thing to do ‘so that the air doesn’t get in’. It wasn’t in the Edmonds, so naturally I was suspish, but I was feeling so smugly happy that I conceded.
Is it not (even without the slightest nod to the conventions of food photography, which I never even attempt) a thing of beauty?
* Edmonds Cookery Book = New Zealanders’ food bible.