Kitchen Music

Day 300: First order of the day...jam up yesterday's gleanings. Last year, the blackberry crop was the poorest I'd ever seen, severely inhibited by hot, dry weather. I'd tried four spots where picking was normally easy, but came home with less than a quart of berries. When I noticed that this year's were beginning to turn black and plump, I decided to strike at once. Since I was already planning to go to Eatonville to see the matinee showing of "Star Trek: Beyond," I loaded bucket, gloves and clippers in the car and left early. Picking wasn't prime, but I soon filled the pail. I juiced them as soon as I got home and let the mash settle overnight. After separating the remaining seeds out this morning, I had exactly four cups of juice, just enough for one batch of seedless blackberry jam. Soon, I was listening to the happy, tinny sound of "Plink! Plink! Plink!" as ten half-pints cooled on the kitchen counter. Not one to let anything edible go to waste, I spread the skimmed foam on homemade toasted sourdough bread for my breakfast. It was worth the wait!

Jar Music

Day 314: Plink! Plink! Plink! That's the sound of lids sealing on jars fresh from the water-bath canner. Plink! And it's a music unlike any other. It made me dance into a batch of gingersnaps and a changeout of old liner paper in the baking cupboard, and then urged me to organize the oils, vinegars, syrups and sauces. That done, I tidied pie tins and colanders, sifters and sieves. The sound of plinking continued as I washed dishes and put away the wares of cannery: jar lifter, food mill, pot, pan and pouring cup. The glittering brass smiles of the jar rings teased me as I boiled berry stains out of brand-new washcloths, rinsed sticky spills of jam from well-seasoned towels and threw the lot in the washer for a final treatment. Through the months of winter and spring, I tend to forget how much I enjoy the act of canning even as I savour its results.