Task 27: Make jam

When Peter and I married and had to merge two homes into one, we needed to take a critical look at our possessions and jettison some of them. I was interested to see that he had a preserving pan, which had belonged to his first mother-in-law. With visions of foraging for berries and producing an array of traditional jams - a kind of Mrs Tiggywinkle on speed - I insisted we keep it. For 28 years it has sat unused and, never having made jam in my life, I decided this task should go on my list.

As summer arrived, it occurred to me that I'd better get a move on. Unless we're on holiday and enjoying croissants for breakfast, we never eat jam so I had no particular views on what type I wanted to make. My only preferences were that it should be a pretty colour and as easy as possible to produce. My friend Edith mentioned that she'd promised to make some for the WI stall at the Ham Fair, which takes place on the second Saturday in June every year. I asked if I could come over and make it for her, under her instruction, and she kindly agreed - although she knew it would be quicker simply to do it herself.

If you've been following this blog, you may remember Edith and her sorrel and plum compote from the postscript to Task 26 (Eat 5 foods I've never tried before). Before she married, she lived in a farming village in Germany, next to the Danish border. There was no electricity, food was very limited and money was tight, especially as her father had been killed in the early months of the war. Like many girls and women then, both in Germany and the UK, she used to bottle, preserve and pickle fruit to provide a supply throughout the winter. Almost nothing that was edible escaped their foraging, particularly if it contained vitamin C or iron. As a result, Edith is very knowledgeable about anything growing wild and how it can be used. She is also an excellent cook and very patient, so she was an ideal jam making tutor.

I arrived last Thursday afternoon, complete with apron, pen and notebook, and after a cup of tea and a chat we got started. Edith had been to her allotment to gather the rhubarb (600g) and to Kingston to buy the strawberries (400g), and as she already had 1kg of jam sugar and a lemon, the ingredients were all to hand. She had also washed and sterilised her recycled jam jars, and explained that they needed to be left to drain on a clean tea towel. When I asked if that meant they should be turned upside down, she looked at me thoughtfully.... 

My first task was to hull the strawberries and top and tail the rhubarb, and then chop it into very small pieces. The smell was wonderful - fresh and crisp. One of the many things I like about Edith is that she says what she thinks, so you always know where you stand. As she dealt with yet another daft question, she commented "It comes in handy when you've worked at a nursery".  For the record, here is a photo showing exactly what size the cut rhubarb should be:

Once all the rhubarb has been chopped, you add half to a very large pan and cover it with about a third of the jam sugar, shaking the pan until the fruit is coated:

You then add the rest of the rhubarb and another third of the sugar, and shake the pan again. Now you quarter the strawberries and add them to the pan, followed by the rest of the sugar and the juice of 1 lemon:

You put the pan on a low/medium heat until the sugar has all dissolved, stirring occasionally. This takes about 30-45 minutes (I can't remember exactly how long, as we took the opportunity to have a cup of coffee and a natter). Once the sugar has fully dissolved, you turn the heat up to maximum and do a rapid boil for about 5 minutes, stirring as necessary to stop the mixture sticking to the pan, especially on the base:

Now comes the time to test whether the jam is ready to set. You take a saucer from the fridge - or if you've forgotten to put one there, you can use the ice tray from the freezer, tipping out one of the cubes to create a space - and place about half a teaspoonful of jam onto it. Once it forms a skin, it's ready. (Repeat this test as necessary.)  When you're satisfied that a skin has formed, turn the heat off and let the liquid calm down. Using a spoon, remove the foam from the surface of the jam. Fill the jars immediately, to the absolute brim, and put the lids on. As a vacuum is created inside, you should hear and/or see the lids dip down slightly in the centre. Wipe the outside of the jars clean and, once they've cooled down, add labels:

There was enough left over to fill a tiny pot for me to take home:

I was under strict instructions from Edith not to taste it for at least 4 days, to allow some of the acidity to diminish. Ideally I was supposed to leave it for up to 3 weeks, but I couldn't wait that long and Peter and I had some on toast on Sunday evening. It was a very pretty deep rose pink colour and had a lovely flavour - neither too sweet nor too sharp. The texture was fine too. I was surprised at how easy it had been to make and how much I'd enjoyed the process, particularly doing it with a friend. It won't help my waistline if I start eating jam, but maybe I can make some for friends as little gifts. I just need to find some who aren't on a no-sugar diet....