Blog Jam

A glut of fruit from the farmer's market just begs to be stewed, jammified and bottled for posterity, no?

Those of you who've jammed know the difference between traditional cooked jam and freezer jam. Cooked jam tastes, well, cooked. Freezer jam, because it's uncooked, tastes vividly fresh (especially when made with berries or stone fruits) - what a thrill when it's dark and wintry.  It's always worth saving a couple of jars for a dark February breakfast. 

But it's "summer" in Seattle and thanks to one of the coldest and wettest springs in recorded history, those local berries haven't quite popped yet (and don't even talk to me about the peaches). Everything's late by about a month. But finally, finally, the skinny red ambassadors of spring have come out of hiding. I have farmer's market rhubarb stacked like firewood in my fridge. Time to get my jam on.

Authorities on preserving often characterize freezer jam as a good "beginner" project. Yes, it's less involved than making cooked jams and canning them, but that's no reason to abandon the freezer once you gain experience at the jam kettle. When you learn to bake bread you don't stop making toast, do you?

With rhubarb, though, you can't exactly get away with leaving it raw. So you do a hybrid of sorts - a cooked freezer jam. Purists, cover your eyes.

Take your finely diced rhubarb, add water just to cover, stir in a splash of vanilla and bring it slowly to the boil.  Reduce the heat and simmer for ten minutes to yield a lovely pink sludge that begs to be jarred. Make it wait. Remove it from the heat and let it cool to room temperature before continuing.

In a separate bowl, stir together a little sugar (a cup per pound to pucker, two cups per pound to smacker) and freezer pectin (about one supermarket foil packet per pound. They vary- check the instructions on the back). Add the sugar mixture to the pink sludge and stir continuously for three solid minutes - no more, no less. Time yourself by singing The Fool on the Hill by the Beatles (who? Ask your granddad about them). Then spoon the jam (yes, you just made jam!) into some squeaky clean little jars (leaving half an inch for expansion), cap 'em gently and let them hang out on your kitchen counter for 24 hours. Admire them, enjoy them and point them out to all who pass by. Yes, they're pink, yes, they sparkle like jewels. Happy, pretty, yum.

Twenty-four hours later, tighten the caps, label the jars if you want and pop them in the freezer (keep one back in the fridge for immediate use or face reality and just go get yourself a spoon). Thaw the jars in the fridge and keep the jam refrigerated once opened. It won't last. You'll spoon it over ice cream, dot some on cookies before baking, add it to vinaigrettes and marinades and spread it on puff pastry to make tarts. You'll start making all kinds - mango, raspberry, strawberry, peach (oh, peach!)....

Making jam of spring fruit is a sure way to bring on summer. It's like when washing your car makes it rain. And guess what - suddenly it's warm in Seattle!