I have been making preserves this week with the fruit from our allotment. Yesterday it was blackberry and apple jam, today apple butter which is a variety of sweet chutney.
My jam-making efforts, in contrast to my chutneys, have not always been a success. Jokingly, I refer to my husband as the 'jam man'. Three years ago I promoted my damson as a good sauce for ice cream, such was its runniness.
However, this time I recognised the setting point. In times past I tried the trick with the cold saucers, I examined the drips from the wooden spoon, I became scientific and stuck in the sugar thermometer in seach of the elusive 221 degrees. This time I knew. I am not even sure how I knew but I did; it was something to do with the viscosity of the mix, the rate of the bubbles, the resistance as I stirred.
That was it: warmed jars out of the oven, lovely hot blackberry and apple spooned in with a ladle, waxed disks in place, covers and lids as it cooled.
I know now, and I will no longer apologise in that self-deprecating way. I can make jam.
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