Small summery surprises

On the whole, I take a rather Dim View of big surprises.  I love anticipation - why remove so much of the fun of a situation by preventing someone from looking forward to it? Thinking of lovely things ahead is what helps me on tough days.

However, little unexpected things brighten my day.  Like finding self-seeded flowers in bloom at the bottom of my garden, or collecting a double yolker from the nest box.

One of the hens was certainly walking bow-legged after laying this monster - 

And one of the new hen laid her first tiny egg the same day, bless her feathery wee self, and strutted about crowing her achievement for all the world to hear. You'd think no bird had ever laid an egg before for all the obvious fuss she made -

Another nice surprise was being given all these gooseberries from my next door neighbour - 

which I cooked up with sugar in my big jam pan -

 - so I could make jars of gooseberry jam for my Dad. It's one of his favourites. Funny how the colour changes from that lovely green, isn't it?

Not really a surprise, but a delightful unexpected thing I discovered this summer was the presence of a grand piano in the middle of a covered square in Ghent. The roof of the structure was just amazing, the piano rich and beautiful, and watching passers-by sit down to plink plonk out Chopsticks, play some boogie woogie or carry us away with Bach's Toccata and Fugue was one of the highlights of the trip for me.

How does that even work? Wouldn't the changes of humidity and temperature constantly send the piano out of tune? And yet it sounded wonderful to my untutored ear, even in the pouring rain.

A few weeks later I was in Leeds city centre. I'd had fun chatting on BBC Radio Leeds with my erstwhile mentor Andrew Edwards and my partner in chat Caroline Eden. I like being on the radio with Caroline, she's good fun.  Later that evening I was going out for a meal with my Women's Institute pals for the centenary celebration, so I had some time to kill between the two engagements.

Look at what I found - 

A painted grand piano in the Trinity centre! A cluster of young men were hovering around, waiting for a chance to play it, egging each other on.  This lad is a student at Trinity University. He played a lilting piece of his own composition; others played a fair few pop songs to the delight of some school kids wandering by.  I know it's only a temporary feature to celebrate the triennial International Piano Competition, but I do so wish it were a permanent feature. One of my favourite surprises this summer.

Mum and Dad came over for a visit in July, which gave me a chance to surprise Mum in the daftest way possible. 

Since first tasting Viennetta ice cream in the 80s, Mum is completely predictable. "Wouldn't you think they'd make that tray out of chocolate?" she'd say of the dark brown plastic tray the ice cream sits on.  She's right, of course, it looks just like it ought to be dark chocolate. But what makes it funny to us all is that Mum has said it every time without fail, for 30 years. She doesn't even realise she's said it out loud some of the time.

So why not? I bought a Viennetta the week they were due to stay. I removed the squiggly ice cream block and popped it back in the freezer while I washed the tray, lined it with cling film and painted it carefully with melted chocolate.  Once the chocolate had nearly set, I bobbed the ice cream back in its new chocolaty tray. 

After dinner I removed the plastic tray and clingfilm from the bottom, put the Viennetta on a serving plate and brought it over to Mum.

"Don't you wish the tray was made of chocolate?" she said, right on cue.

We laughed all evening. Couldn't stop.  The look on her face was absolutely priceless. I couldn't speak for laughing, and I'm giggling again just writing about it.

Some surprises are worth it.

Jam today

It's the very start of the strawberry season here in Yorkshire. Over the next 3 weeks there will be enough strawberries to satisfy even Miss B, our resident fraisivore. Most of the strawberries aren't quite ripe yet but those that are, are perfect for jam making.

The strawberries from my garden, Strawbopolis, are for snacking purposes only. To be brutally honest, I forgot to water my strawberry plants last year the second the fruiting season ended (I'm a bad, bad plantswoman) and lots of them died. Those that did survive look ace and are producing lots of fruit, which is more than I deserve. Oops.

To pick my strawberries, I went to Kemp's of Horsforth. My friend Jean knew the elder Kemp back in his rugby club days and says he was a dashing blade. Jean's 86, so I guess the Kemp family's farm has been a fixture of North Leeds for a long while. I like getting produce direct from the grower, and even more when it's a local family business. It's much nicer than handing the cash to a supermarket. In addition, PYO means I can be as picky as I like about the fruit; and I am very picky.

Today's haul was a bit disappointing. I was clearly rather too keen and should have left it a week because so few berries were ripe that it took me best part of an hour to pick my 3 kilos. Still, the flavour was good and it's a nice way to while away a morning.

A few ripe strawberries for snacking

Back home, I put on Lily Allen's album Sheezus and set to work hulling the strawberries. My Very Excellent Mate Rachel gave me three Lily Allen albums recently and I love them. When it's a bit of a dead time for radio they are my songs of choice. Rachel also has Cary Elwes's memoir As You Wish for me, which I am very excited about.  Hurray for VEM Rach and her thoughtfulness.

When it comes to jam making  I refer to the mighty Pam The Jam, author of the River Cottage Handbook on Preserves. Pam Corbin's recipes are clear, well explained and almost always work well for me, although I prefer slightly less sugar when I can get away with it. Between cordials, jams, jellies, curds and marmalade I have used her book until it is stiff with sugar spatter and stained with fruit juice. I raise my elderflower martini to her.

Here's my version of what Pam recommends -

Strawberry Jam

2.85kg of hulled strawberries, with any bruises trimmed (3.2kg picked weight)
600g granulated sugar
1.75kg jam sugar
5 large lemons

10-12 clean jam jars with lids

If at all possible, don't wash the strawberries. Wipe any grubby bits off but generally just leave them. Dry strawberries make better jam.
Put the clean jam jars and lids on a lined baking tray and put in the oven. Turn the oven on to 150 degrees and leave the jars in to sterilise.
Stick all the strawberries in a maslin pan or VERY large stock pot. Add the granulated sugar and simmer on a low heat for about 5 minutes until mostly soft.

At this point I let the mix cool before pushing 2/3 of the fruit through a metal sieve with a messy combination of a silicon spatula and my fists. Then I plunge my hands into the jam pan and squish up any lumps of fruit until I have a mostly smooth and partially seed-free mixture.  Pam Corbin doesn't have this step in her recipe because Pam isn't trying to feed fussy family members who don't like pips or fruit pieces in their jam. Lucky, lucky Pam.

NB - By now I look like I've been involved in a massacre. I usually have to swap to a fresh apron at this point or everywhere I lean I make strawberry prints.

Put the jam mixture back on a low heat and add all the jam sugar. This contains the pectin we'll need for the jam to set. I use more jam sugar and less granulated sugar than Pam because overall my sugar-to-fruit ratio is lower - I like a touch of tartness because it tastes more of strawberry that way - so I need the extra pectin to get a good set.
Heat the jam through gently, stirring all the time to ensure the sugar doesn't burn to the bottom of the pan. When it has dissolved completely add the juice of all 5 lemons and turn the heat up. That acidity really lifts the flavour of the strawberries.
Incidentally, cold lemons don't produce as much juice. If your lemons were in the fridge, it's worth popping them in the microwave for about 20-30 seconds before you squeeze them.

Once your jam is boiling away, Pam says it will take 8-9 minutes to reach setting point. Personally, I find it takes closer to 15, but I'm probably doing something wrong.

If you have lots of frothy scum on the top of the jam, pop in a blob of butter and stir the jam until it dissipates. Then it's time to fill the jars, which have been sitting in the oven all sterile and ready to go.
I find it easiest to fill them on the baking tray. It contains any spillage and is easy to clear up.  Put a wide mouthed funnel onto a jar and pour in the jam until full. If you haven't got a jam funnel I find tipping your jam into a glass or earthenware jug with a spout will do as a way to fill the jars with minimum spillage.
Be careful, please. The jam is insanely hot, you do not want any of it splashing on you if you can help it. I got 3 tiny little dots of jam on my knuckles as I was holding the thermometer and they came up as blisters almost immediately.
Put the lids on the filled jars immediately (I use oven gloves or a tea towel) and leave to cool.

I absolutely LOVE the metallic pop the lids make as the jar cools and creates a vacuum.  I find something I "need" to do to make sure I'm in the kitchen for that. It's very satisfying.

Ten jars, two small dishes and a bit for tasting

A note about setting point - You can faff about with drops of jam in cold water or creases on cold saucers but I find my sugar thermometer far more reliable. You can get them from places like Nisbets, and they're well worth having.

Those two little dishes of jam are for my lovely neighbour Wendy, and Jean who knew the Kemps 'way back when.  Sharing a bit of jam will do when the red wine runs out.
All hail kick-ass octogenarian women!

J x

Brunch for superstars

It's half term here in Yorkshire. The concept of half term confused me when I first moved here from Canada - only 6 weeks of school and already a holiday?  2 weeks as well at Christmas and Easter? Geez, those Brit kids are lucky slackers.  But then I realised to my horror that their summer break was only 6 weeks long. Shudder.  For someone used to 10 week summers entirely free from the drudgery of homework and classrooms it seemed cruel. How could you feel properly free with school looming over you.

Anyway, here the terms are about 12 weeks long, give or take. Six weeks then a week off in October, February and late May, then the rest of term until Christmas, Easter or late July sets them free again.  Once I got used to it I rather liked the rhythm of it. As a parent I love it - regular holiday time with the kids, able to relax and enjoy their company. I'd far rather have them here than in school.

One of the pleasures of the start of the holidays is feeling at leisure. We don't have to cram as much into a weekend, so we can have a lazy breakfast of French toast or eggs and sausages. I fancied making something new to start our languorous start of GMT - the best part of British Summer Time coming to an end. I'd seen a recipe on The Guardian's website called Breakfast of Champions: Rosa Parks' Peanut Butter Pancakes.

Discovered written on an envelope amongst the civil rights heroine's papers, it combined lots of things we love in our house. Pancakes! Easy recipes! Peanut butter!  What's not to totally love?

NB - peanut butter is wonderful stuff.  I don't mean the healthy, wholefood stuff; I want Skippy, the vastly processed peanut butter I'd had a kid. I never understand why so many people in the UK are resistant to it.  Or even worse  - spread butter on the bread before the peanut butter.  Seriously, that can happen.  My in-laws were awful for doing it and it took years for them to drop the habit.  It's like eating pizza with a knife and fork.

The recipe calls for 150g of plain flour, 2 tbs of baking powder, 2 tbs of sugar and a bit of salt to be sifted into a bowl.  In a jug, beat together 1 egg, 100g smooth peanut butter and 300ml of milk.  Because peanut butter is gloopy and milk isn't, I beat the PB and the egg together into a slack-ish liquid before stirring the milk in. They combined really well, and my concerns of blobs of PB floating in a jug of milk were unfounded.

Anyway, mix wet ingredients into dry and let sit on one side for 10 minutes.  Then fry blobs of batter in butter to make small American style pancakes.  I used a serving spoon as a measure and got nearly 20 pancakes.

They were LOVELY.  Miss B went for the traditional PB&J approach and spread them with raspberry jam.  Zach, Mark and I went for maple syrup.  I'd have sliced banana on them if we'd had any to hand.  I know from experience that peanut butter and sliced banana go beautifully on French toast, so I'm sure it would be ace.

Luke... well, Luke marches to the beat of his own drum. Lemon curd is his favourite spread by far.  Rather than branch out, he insisted his lemon curd/peanut butter pancake combination was delicious. However, he didn't join the others in mithering for extras. I think he'll opt for chocolate spread when I make them next time.

Once we'd finished all the pancakes we all headed outside to get the garden ready for winter.  The kids were absolute stars - helping with weeding, pruning, lawn mowing and clearing up. I cleared out and scrubbed down the polytunnel and did the winter sowing while Mark and the kids cleared the raised beds, top dressed the currant patch and netted off the veg beds from cats.  A lovely big empty raised bed looks suspiciously like a litter tray to the local mogs, so we need to keep them out.

Laundry done, shopping sorted, cakes in the oven and the early sunset definitely noticeable, we're feeling all tucked in and cosy.  It's a nice way to welcome Autumn in.

Going up!

Mmm, strawberries.  The supermarkets have them on the shelves, Pinterest is full of recipes for them and no doubt the BBC will start showing trailers for Wimbledon soon.

In my experience the best way to taste a strawberry is to pick it on a sunny day and pop it straight in your mouth. That gentle warmth brings out all the glory of the flavour, and every last bit of the sweetness is there because it was picked mere seconds ago.

This is not how I generally experience strawberries.  In fact, before now I've been lucky to get more than about 10 fruit what with predation by birds, escaped hens, slugs and woodlice.  This is an unsatisfactory state of affairs.  Indeed, as Miss B complained to me a few months back when choosing which jam jar to open, "Why do you make every jam and jelly except my favourite? Why won't you make strawberry jam?"

Never one to shirk a challenge, I had a good think. What were the impediments to having a decent strawberry crop?

1. Not having a large patch with space for loads of plants
2. The ground being too wet so they get mouldy
3. Insects eating them
4. Birds eating them

I remembered visiting Canal Gardens many years ago and seeing a tall pillar of impatiens.  They were planted in holes drilled around a massive pipe stood on its end.  That could solve all my problems, I thought. Growing vertically means less square footage, makes them less accessible to slugs and woodlice, means fruit aren't sitting on soggy straw. If we secure the pipe to the fence to keep it stable we could drape netting across to keep the birds off and chickens out.

That's so crazy it just might work.

So off to the plumbing supply shop Mark toddled, with a list.  Mark loves a building project.  This is very fortunate, as I love having new things built.  I generally avoid power tools myself; since I sliced the end of my finger off in woodshop in Grade 9, I regard all power tools with great suspicion.  Hell, it took 3 years for the feeling to come back. 

Here we are. getting ready to make 4 towers - two 3m lengths of soil pipe, some plastic overflow pipe and some compost. We also needed 4 2l pop bottles, twine, weed blanket/garden membrane and strawberry plantlets. And Duct tape. Duct tape is very important to Mark.

First, Mark cut off the end bit of the soil pipes - the bit that's like a wider cuff.  I kept them for using with grow bags in the polytunnel later on. Next he sawed the 3m lengths into 1.5m pieces.  Then, using a 2 inch drill bit, he and I took turns drilling holes in the side of the pipe.

(Yes, I did use a power tool despite what I just said! I was determined to take part properly because it had been my idea. I was scared at first but it was kind of cool.)

We drilled 5 holes at regular intervals, leaving 20cm at the top and bottom to allow for the reservoir and room for the plants to trail down.

Then we rotated the pipe about 100 degrees and drilled a second lot of 5 holes, offset from the first.

This allowed us 10 plants per tower.  We'd be fastening them to the fence on the east side of the garden, and of course we want the plants to get as much sunlight as possible so drilled the holes allowing us to plant to the south and west faces of the tower.  If we'd had a north wall, we'd have drilled 3 sets of holes for east, west and south.

Next, the irrigation system.  Watering from the top would make it likely the lower plants would dry out, so I wanted a way to get water all the way down. We used overflow pipe (because it was the cheapest) cut slightly shorter than the soil pipe. That would allow space at the top for the funnel/resevoir to be fitted.  I drilled little holes right through the irrigation pipe from one side, then rotated it 90 degrees and drilled through again.

See the first line of holes? I'm drilling the second line here

To stop the water just running into the soil underneath the towers and skipping the plants entirely,  we blocked off the bottom end of the irrigation pipe. Use whatever you have - we had some fat plastic screws from an old play house we duct taped into place, but we could have done the same with a wine screwcap or similar.  Duct tape was inevitable.

Now, it is quite important that the end you block off is the end you sawed down to size. The other end is slightly beveled, which will be useful later

Don't block off this beveled end

With one end closed, the beveled end free and holes criss-crossing the pipe, the irrigation system is nearly ready. To stop soil or compost clogging those watering holes, I wrapped the irrigation [pipe in a strip of weed blanket and secured it with garden twine wound around it. I didn't want it getting dislodged while I filled the planter with dirt.

Cut a thin strip of the membrane to go around the pipe

A length of overflow pipe is about the same width as the mouth of a pop bottle. To make filling the pipe easy once in situ, cut the top off a 2l pop bottle to make a funnel and attach it to the irrigation pipe. Dip the bottle top in a mug of hot water to soften it if it's stiff going onto the pipe. Remember that slight bevel to the edge? This is why it's useful.   The beveled edge is much easier to jam the funnel onto than the cut edge. 

As is practically The Law in DIY projects, secure it with a bit of duct tape.

Here is one of the towers secured to the fence with the irrigation/funnel only partially in place:

If you want a large reservoir, make your funnel deeper. I didn't because a) I'm not that tall and the whole contraption was about as high up as I can lift a watering can b) I wanted to be about to plant quite high up the tower, which isn't possible if that space is filled with reservoir and not compost and c) I didn't want the naff pop bottle plastic showing above the top of the tower.  Because black plastic plumbing pipe is this season's look, doncha know! 

4 towers against the fence, wires in front to support netting

Here comes the tricky bit. I wish I'd done it differently...

Filling the tower. Oops.

My first plan had been for the irrigation tube to go down the back go the tower, so filling would have been pretty easy. But Mark's idea for the funnel/reservoir meant the irrigation tube went pretty much down the middle and I needed to fill in around it. Quite a hassle.  What with air pockets, not finding it easy to tamp the compost down and then overfilling so I could barely get the plants in, here's what I would do if starting again.

(Remember way back in the in August '13 when I mentioned this blog would include ways I fail so you don't have to? This is one of those times.)

First, I'd make a tamping tool. Maybe several layers of cardboard cut into a C shape that would fit inside the tower (so about 9cm diameter and able to slot around the irrigation tube. I'd tape two bamboo canes to it so I could reach it right down into the tower.

Second, I'd tip some compost in the tower and tamp it down, and repeat until I was at the level of the first planting hole. I'd slot the irrigation pipe in the centre of the tower - it will stick up about 6 to 12 inches at the top for continuing to fill the tower.  Slot the first plant in the planting hole and continue

to fill it the tower, tamping down and planting as the compost gets level to a planting hole.

Once the last plant it is in, I'd go back to what I actually did.

This is the point I stood on a chair and shoved the irrigation tube REALLY hard to get it as far down the tower as possible. Then Mark whacked it with a sledgehammer (with a block of wood to protect the funnel) until it was level.

The Way Not To Do It - 

I don't recommend tipping as much dirt in the towers as you can around the irrigation tube, paffing it down with a broom handle as best you can, tipping more in, paff paff paff with that broom handle until you're up to the top, whack the reservoir in place and then planting through the side holes.
This is a ridiculous way of doing it, I assure you.
For a start, a broom handle isn't broad enough to do satisfactory tamping. there are loads of air holes left that you need to get rid of if you want the plants to survive, and trying to add more soil by shoving it through the side holes with your fingers is a pretty inefficient way of doing it.

I'm sure none of us know anyone daft enough to do it that way, obviously.

Anyway, once the little strawberry runner were planted into the towers, the fruit netting tacked in place at the top of the fence and pegged down at the bottom to keep blackbirds and naughty chickens away, it was completed.

I give you...   STRAWBOPOLIS!  High rise des res accommodation for strawberry plants.

Strawbpolis after 2 weeks

Strawbopolis this week - Look, flowers and tiny fruits! Woohoo!

The cutest pie in the world

Hello webby mates!

I love Pintrest, don't you?. Yes, it's full of crazy people making mood boards for weddings they won't have, mansions they will never live in, and some really intimidating tattoos but so what? A little dreaming is no bad thing. I have a board for fantasy book shelves, for heaven's sake. To each her own.

However, for me the best thing about Pintrest is the stuff I will actually use. I've made recipes I've pinned, found ideas for kids' costumes, followed knitting patterns and made up sewing projects inspired by pictures I've pinned. It's ace.

A long while ago I pinned an image of a little pastry heart on a stick. Having spent weeks making jam, I was in the mood for making jam tarts and thought it would be the perfect time to try the little pie lollies as well. It was a roaring success!

I used my favourite sweet pastry recipe  - 600g plain flour, 400g fat, 200g caster sugar and 1 large egg in the food processor. To avoid adding extra flour when I roll the pastry out I roll it between two double layers of cling film, then pop it in the fridge to rest for a while.

After 20 minutes or so I cut out large hearts from the cold pastry, pressed a lolly stick gently into them, added a dollop of my jam and topped with another pastry heart. I pressed the edges down with the tines of a fork to prevent jam leaking out and poked a couple of little holes in the centre to let any steam escape. Then I brushed each with egg (or use milk as you prefer) and sprinkled with granulated sugar. 10 to 12 minutes in a 190 degree oven and - ta da! Lovely, delicious and rather unfairly cute pies on sticks.

Pounced on as soon as they were cool

Delicious, if short lived!

Jam-alam-a-ding-dong

Hello webby mates!

Fancy a a slice of toastand jam? I have lots to share.

My Victoria plum tree is bent almost to the ground under the weight of its fruit this year. I knew it was likely - plum trees lave a good year/bad year cycle as far as I can work out. Last year it managed about 10 plums. This year I removed over half the fruit in July to protect the branches from snapping and my little tree still gave me 4 kilos of gloriously sweet plums yesterday. Twice as many are still on the tree to ripen.

Don't they look good?

 My plum season is very short. Everything ripens within a 2 or 3 week window. There is no way we could eat them all fresh (without being ill) and I do love being able to have plums from my tree many months after they appeared. The easiest way to do that is to make them into jam.

I'm still fairly inexperienced at making jam. I refer to the wonderful River Cottage Preserves book written by Pam Corbin - aka Pam the Jam - for the essentials and even then I do make a hash of it sometimes. Rather spectacularly on several occasions.  However, the lure of a line of jars filled with golden jam in a kitchen scented with rich sweet fruit brings me back to have another go every time.

The recipe is this:
1.5kg of plums
400ml water
1.25kg granulated sugar
I doubled it because I have heaps and heaps of plums.

As you will have noticed if you've read my other blog posts, I like Thinking Things Through and I like an easy option if there is one. There are lots of approaches to jam making and this is the one that works well for me.

Sterilising the jars - If I've room in the dishwasher I stick all my jars and lids in, run a hot wash cycle as I start the jam and leave the dishy door shut until I'm ready to fill the jars. If I haven't the room I just wash them as hand hot as i can stand and pop them on the middle shelf of the oven, and turn the oven on low. Boiling them seems a right flipping pain.

Setting point - I second, third and forth guess myself on setting point. To that end, I take a belt-and-braces approach. I stick 3 or 4 saucers in the freezer as I get ready to start and I use my digital thermometer as well. The great Pam says setting point of jam is 104 degrees C.

Pam also says you should only wash the fruit if absolutely necessary and if you do you must dry it thoroughly. My fruit are from my trees, unsprayed with anything, so I just keep a very slightly damp cloth to hand if i need to wipe any bits off. Or wipe it on my apron (scruffy but true.)

Weighing as I go

I set up all my stuff first - massive pan sitting on my digital scales, sack of fruit and cutting board in front of me, bowl for the plum stones and any manky bits to my right.

First job - cut the plums in half and remove the stone. The easiest way is to cut along that line on the plum - I think of it as the plum's Greenwich Meridian or butt crack, depending on my mood - and up again the other side, then twist the two plum halves apart. Cut any manky bits off and pop the plum halves in the pan.

Incidentally, Pam tells us to use a nutcracker to open some plum stones to remove the kernels and simmer them with the plums for a lovely hint of almond. I don't own a nutcracker and can't be bothered anyway. I love plum jam as it is.

The other advice Pam offers is to use slightly under ripe fruit for jam making.
Two years ago we had to give our middle child a 4 plum rule. They are so soft, plump and delicious, just hanging there at easy picking height for a child and the temptation was too much for him. As he played in the garden one day he helped himself to loads of them and had one hell of a stomach ache as a result. He stuck to the 4 plum limit after that.  I was struggling to stick to that rule myself as I picked out the plums from the harvest that were too ripe for jam making. It turns out they are just exactly ripe enough for scoffing.

Is it a bit late to mention that you shouldn't make plum jam when you have a fancy event to go to that night? Picking all those plum stones out tends to stain your fingers a delightful nicotine yellow which can undermine your wholesome homestead-y vibe and kill any glamour thing off too.  Unless you are a chain smoker, I guess. Then it wouldn't make much difference.

What 3kg of plums looks like

Anyway, back to business. I weighed out 3kg of stoned fruit, added some water and put it on the stove to boil. This time (unlike the previous year) I remembered not to add the sugar until the plums were well cooked. It took about 25 minutes of simmering. Jam making wisdom decrees that if you add the sugar at the start the fruit skins won't soften. I haven't found it bothers me particularly, but what the heck.

By the way, you don't have to remove the skins of the plums unless they really bother you. Pam doesn't and I no longer do. It makes the whole thing much easier. Also, just skimming along with a slotted spoon as the skins rise to the surface can get rid of lots of them if you aren't too fastidious about the odd skin.
I actually kind of like them. They are just part of the texture of the jam, and aren't tough or chewy in the slightest.

Once the fruit is totally cooked I added the sugar. Victoria plums are pretty sweet, so I don't match the fruit weight quite equally. I added 2.5kg of granulated sugar to the pan.

Yes, you read that correctly. Two and a half kilos. Of sugar. Five and a half pounds. What sort of insane foodstuff needs that much sugar?

Well, jam, obviously. Because it is the high sugar content that preserves the fruit so I can have this September's plums on my toast next spring. Logically I know that but it still feels an insane amount to weigh out. It filled 2 of my big pasta bowls.

Heaps of sugar

 I stirred it well and kept it on a low boil for a while to let the sugar dissolve completely. Then, with a last stir for luck, I took it up to a rolling boil in pursuit of the elusive Setting Point.

Books and online recipes usually tell me my jam will reach setting point in 10 to 12 minutes. I don't think it has ever happened in less than 20. I don't stir it (it cools the jam slightly and delays setting) and I *think* I do everything they suggest, but it still takes longer than they tell me. Possibly it's because I have MASSES of plums and scale up the recipes.

Anyway, once my jam is boiling like billy-o and gets a little darker in colour I pop my sugar thermometer in. It usually romps up to 102 degrees and then sits there for ages. I try again every few minutes. By around 103 degrees I grab one of those saucers I put in the freezer and plop a tiny bit of jam on it. after a couple of minutes I push it with my finger to see if the jam wrinkles up ahead of my finger or not. If not (and the first few goes are always a 'not' in my experience) I get to scoff the yummy sloppy jam bit and try again with another cold saucer in a few minutes.

Once I was fairly happy the jam had reached setting point I turned off the heat. I took the still-warm jars and lids from the dishwasher and put them on the counter ready to be filled.  I don't have a jam funnel which would make filling the jars nice and easy. And I only remember this when I am in full jam-making flow. Dolt.

Anyway, I put my jars on sheets of the reusable baking parchment I use for lining cake tins and baking trays. It makes clearing up my jam spillage much easier. Had my kitchen not been very warm - and consequently my counter top - I would have put folded tea towels under the parchment. hot jam jars and cold stone counters can result in the glass breaking. Not good.

I filled the jars to very near the absolute top and put the lids on. As the jam cools and contracts it will create a vacuum seal. You can tell that it's worked by looking at the little dimple on the jar lid. If it is concave the seal is fine. If you can push that dimple down and it pops up convex again, the jar isn't sealed. You can just keep that jar in the fridge and use it up quickly or you can heat the jam up again, sterilise the jar again and have another go.

I got 13 jars of jam from my 3kg (stoned weight) of plums. I expect about 5 or 6 will get given away. The rest will go on the top shelf of my cupboard, waiting to bring late summer happiness to months ahead.

Jay xx

PS - When I was a kid I had a hell of a time remembering which was concave and which was convex. The only way I kept it straight was this -  concave is caved in. Convex is vexed, and is sticking its tongue out at you. I'm educational gold, me. You're welcome.