Flash in the Pan 

Jamming with pectin

I brought home 30 pounds of strawberries from Common Ground Farm in Arlee, having acquired the berries through a wonderful and sorely under-utilized system called U-pick, in which the seeker of produce goes to the farm and picks it him or herself, for a discount. With foodstuffs that are labor-intensive but easy and fun to harvest, like berries or fruit, U-pick works great.

I was the only one in the strawberry patch that day. Everyone else was after raspberries, which are coming on strong. But no berry improves my quality of life like a strawberry, so there I was, pushing the limits of strawberry season to the sweet end.

When I got home I poured the berries into a large pot and began pulling them out one at a time, cutting off the crowns with scissors and placing the berries on drying racks. I employed the time-honored quality-control method of “eating the suspects” (not the disgusting ones, mind you, just the suspects). Most of the suspects I ate tasted delicious, indicating that I was erring on the side of caution.

Then I raided my stash of rhubarb, collected in spring when it was perfect, then cleaned, chopped and frozen, ready to costar in my strawberry rhubarb jam.

There isn’t space here for me to walk you through the whole process, but that’s okay, because the wisest thing I could possibly tell you about jamming is that you should simply follow the instructions that come with your pectin.

Pectin? That’s a plant fiber commonly found in the cell walls of certain fruits, and it’s what gives jam its thickness. Each brand of pectin has the potential to act slightly different, which is why I recommend using the instructions for whatever pectin you get. You have to be kind of anal about your proportions or it won’t work. It may still taste good, but it won’t be jam.

Most pectin requires massive amounts of sugar in order to thicken. This is a bummer for people, like me, who don’t like their jam super-sweet, preferring instead to taste the natural sweetness of the fruit or berry they have jammed. I get around this by using “low-methoxyl” pectin, which gels by reacting to a calcium solution that I add. This may sound intimidating and scientific but it’s pretty easy, and it allows you to add as much or as little sugar as tastes right to you. If you shop at a cool store, there should be boxes of the low-methoxyl Pomona’s-brand pectin alongside the other kinds. Or you can order it online at pomonapectin.com.

When I jam, I like the fruit to be as unaltered as possible. So I don’t cut or mash my berries—making them difficult to measure—and I cook them as briefly as I think I can get away with. This approach can be problematic when making low-sugar jam, because sugar acts as a preservative as well as a sweetener. Determined, but in need of guidance, I called the telephone number printed on the jamming instructions that came with my Pomona’s pectin. The number was called the “JAMLINE.”

Alas, it was Saturday and I could only leave a message. But the berries couldn’t wait, so I jammed on. Following the instructions for no-sugar jam, I blended the pectin in hot juice—frozen apple cider from last year—and added it to my berries, which I brought barely to a boil. I did add a little sugar, to taste, but going with the no-sugar method essentially gave me the option of adding as much or as little as I cared to. When I processed the jars in a water bath, I left them in the boiling water a mere five minutes, conveniently neglecting to add an extra minute for each thousand feet of altitude.

The jam turned out great, and the next day as I was eating some on my French toast, the phone rang.

It was Connie Sumberg, the JAMLINE operator and, to my surprise, owner of the company—which makes her the first company owner who has ever called me on a Sunday to talk about strawberry/rhubarb jam. She spoke with the slow drawl of someone with a lot of common sense, and I desperately wanted her to approve of my unorthodox and undercooked methods.

“If you see mold in a few months, and the seal on the jar is still good,” she said, “then you know that live mold spores were sealed inside because you didn’t boil it long enough.”

Can you just scrape off the mold and eat the rest of the jam?

“That’s up to you, it’s a personal decision. In the old days that’s what they did, because they couldn’t afford to throw it away—unless the whole thing tasted moldy. Then you know the tendrils of mold have permeated the batch.”

But when pressed, Sumberg couldn’t recall a single instance of poisoning from undercooked low-sugar strawberry/rhubarb jam. That’s good enough for me.

Ask Chef Boy Ari: The other sheepmeat

Q: Dear CBA,

Last week you went on and on about lamb, with nary a word about lamb’s older and splendid counterpart, mutton. In most parts of the world, lamb is a rare luxury while mutton, being bigger, is more economical to eat. Can you please give us common folk who can’t afford lamb some options?
— Mutton Glutton

A: Dear MG,

I tracked down Steve and Luci of Lifeline Farms, because I’ve heard them rave about a salad of shelled peas, romaine and mutton they like to make this time of year.

“One of the best things about this salad,” says Steve, “is you get to say the word ‘mutton.’ MUTTON! It’s become almost a four-letter word in food circles, and that’s a shame.”

“We sell our lamb and eat the aged critters,” Luci confirms, “and boy are they yummy.”

The thing with mutton is you have to trim off the fat when you butcher it, they say. Then it tastes like lamb, but with more flavor. It’s tougher too, which means you have to cook it differently. “We use stew meat,” Luci says, “and we cook it long and slow.”

One real nice way to cook it long and slow is in the oven, in a covered skillet, with plenty of water or juice or wine. After a few hours, it’s so soft you can almost eat it with a straw.

Once the mutton is cooked, make a salad out of romaine lettuce, fresh or frozen shelled peas, fresh dill, thinly sliced cucumbers and Walla-Walla onions, and dress it in a mayonnaise-based dressing that goes by the name “Creamy.”

Creamy contains, roughly, a 4:1 ratio of mayo and yogurt, with fresh garlic, horseradish, curry powder, shredded cheddar and salt and pepper. Enjoy.

  • Email
  • Print

Comments

Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

© 2014 Missoula News/Independent Publishing | Powered by Foundation