The Jam Sessions

I'm going to start backwards.

Just now, I've ruined my dinner by standing for five minutes at the kitchen counter, spoon in hand, in front of open jars of creamy peanut butter and the universe's best peach jam.

You see, I made that jam this weekend, and I've come down from yon mountain to preach the gospel according to Pectin and Mason.

It's not that I have the great jamming secret to share - just the opposite. I'm a complete newbie and the gooey stuff I created is good and it was pretty straightforward. It did, however, make a fantabulous mess. For that, I recommend a husband.

The other week, I tested the waters starting with a handful of green tomatoes from our garden, and the result was pretty yummy. Also, I'm staring down an imminent disaster when work takes me away to photograph the political conventions in late August: I have a feeling that our bumper crop of tomatoes will all simultaneously turn bright red and demand attention, like 400 angry babies. To head this off, I decided to ramp up the production of green tomato jam, pronto.

When I tackle a project, I don't usually start small. Nor do I read directions or gather advice. For me, the fun is in the doing, and often the redoing, patching, fixing, and rescuing. But inspiration has the half-life of a mayfly, so on Saturday, it was off to the Union Square Farmers Market in Somerville to score whatever "seconds," or damaged produce, I could with as little money as possible.

This was my haul:
Not counting the beans and cherry tomatoes, that set me back $5.

I barreled into the kitchen with full arms and way too much energy, flipped on NPR and got to work. Unfortunately, Ira Glass was inside my radio and proceeded to completely bum me out with this radio show. There I was, turning gorgeous fruit into sticky sweetness on sparkling Saturday afternoon, and some lady is going on and on about how her fear of death keeps her up at night.

That was a serious buzz kill and caused me to view the process I had just started a little differently.

She said, "We're all going to die...I just want to stand in this river and keep from moving..."

I hear this while standing in a shaft of afternoon sunlight, holding a juicy peach, the very embodiment of ephemeral beauty, fertility and life, and my mission was to "preserve" it.

'Ha,' I thought. 'Shut up, Ira and Lady.' Off went the radio and in went the tunes: Elliot Smith's incredible album, XO. You can listen to it here.

And then, I remembered with a bitter laugh: he killed himself.

Holy cheese wiz, this is getting depressing. Back to the peaches.
Forty six of them, some a bit sqiushed, some hard as apples, and some so perfect, they never made it to the pot. About five minutes searching online gave me a rough outline for the steps that lay ahead:
1. score, blanch, immerse in ice water and peel the peaches
2. cut them up in itty bitty pieces
3. add sugar and lemon juice
4. let sit for a long time so the juices are drawn out. (I didn't like this part, so I skipped it.)
5. boil mixture a lot, and then boil it more until it's "jam-like." (thanks; that's helpful)
-5.5- add pectin if you want (I did)
6. sterilize jars in boiling water for 15 minutes
7. pour hot goo into jars, wipe rims, screw on lids
8. "process" the filled jars in boiling water for a while
9. take out of water and admire at room temperature until cool.
10. give some away and write a blog post (optional)

Step 1: Scoring, Blanching, Icing, Peeling and Chopping into Itty Bitty Pieces --
That was my workstation above. You can't see the the pot of boiling water at left, and the water in the sink is the ice bath. In the left sink is the compost container for the skins.

I first cut X's into the peach skin before I boiled them for about 2 minutes. After they had cooled a bit in the water bath (and it is a lot easier when they've cooled for about 5 minutes) I attempted to peel off just the skin. This proved to be more difficult than most of the recipes I found online suggested it would be. In the end, I relied heavily on a vegetable peeler.

Lesson learned: the more ripe peaches are easy to peel; the hard-as-apples peaches require help.

Then I did the chopping up part and added a heap of cane sugar. I used a less processed kind I buy in bulk at Whole Foods, but I think any sort would do. As for the measurement, I have no idea. This much:
...but then I added more later. So perhaps 2-3 or maybe 4 cups in all? Nah, probably not 4. To taste...

This mixture, though yummy, tasted sort of one dimensional, and I like a tarter jam anyway. This is where I added lots of lemon juice and lemon zest. Perhaps the juice and zest of 4? large lemons? You can always add more later, too.
(thank you, Erik, for taking these pictures!)

Then I mixed it all up, poured it in a pot, and stuck it on the stove on medium heat for a super long time.
I kept the pot covered for much of the time, because I wanted it to really cook together and break down. Plenty of the liquid boiled off anyway.

Eventually (after an hour or two), it was time to add the pectin. I used "Pomona's Universal Pectin," which is $3.69 at Whole Foods. I bought this one for a couple reasons, neither of which were based on real knowledge. First, it was cheap. Second, it works with any amount of sweetener, which means you don't have to make a true syrup for the gelling agent to activate. The box contains two packets (not labeled, which is not helpful) -

The pectin...

...and a packet of monocalcium phosphate.

(The internet is a great thing.)

The monocalcium phosphate, which you dissolve in water, activates the pectin. The thing with pectin powder, though, is that it globs onto itself and to everything else (the spoon, the pot) and definitely doesn't disperse on its own. So you have to help it out.

I spooned a cup or so of the jam goo into a blender, added the correct amount of pectin powder and calcium water (the box has really bad directions you can try to follow) and blended it up for a minute or two. The I poured it back into the pot and stirred.
While the peach goo was cooking, I had sterilized jars in boiling water for a while, and later found out I screwed something up:Ya, don't boil the lids. Just wash them in hot, soapy water. I guess it can interfere with the seal. Oops. When they were done sterilizing, I stuck them in the oven at 210 degrees to keep the germies away.
Next was the fun part: pouring the hot glop into squeaky clean jars.
This was ultra gratifying. This part of any task, the tangible completion part, turns me into an 8-year old. I was dancing around my kitchen at the sight of all those honey-colored jars testifying to a job well done.
Here's to you Elliot Smith. I'll enjoy the peaches on your behalf.

So Laurie (my fearless test pilot), is it any good?