Monday, September 16, 2013

Always Jam Today


You know what's different in a small apartment as compared to a large house?  Well, I'll tell you:  one of Mr. Muscato's jam sessions.

No, in the old days, we didn't change into our chintz kitchen frocks and sensible hairnets as above - well, not quite - but we had a table of comparable proportions and - as I've discovered, even more importantly, lots and lots of non-jam-related spaces to which someone only marginally involved in the process (I'm trusted only to stir at non-crucial points and, if I'm very, very good, to pour the hot mixture into the little jars) could retreat.

It all started on Sunday morning, when the Mister and I went to the Eastern Market, a not enormous and more than adequately touristified but nonetheless rather satisfactory local institution at which one can, with a little careful looking, find some very good fruit and veg.  We came home with sacks of peaches, apples, tomatoes, and strawberries, and, from the look in the Mister's eyes, I knew we were in for it.

And so it was; when I came home this afternoon, I caught the first steamy whiff of boiling fruit well down the hall, and when I opened the front door, it was like walking into an aromatic sauna, one made all the more pungent because there was also a magnificent seven-pound chicken roasting in the oven (the butchers at the Eastern Market almost - almost - meet Mr. Muscato's standards).  Oh, I'm not complaining, mind you, and no one enjoys the results more than I (except, when it comes to the chicken, the terriers, of course), but oh, my - the stickiness.  Still, one taste, and you know it's worth while.

So now we have a dozen or so jars lined up neatly on the counter, half peach-cinnamon and half varicolored-tomato-strawberry-clove.  The dogs have had a little chicken with their supper, and maybe, if we're lucky, before we move out, we'll get the kitchen clean again.  Maybe it's a sign that this bland little rental is turning into home...

12 comments:

  1. better get back in the kitchen...
    you've got labels to lick!

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  2. Making jam in Washington in mid-September: I'm dizzy just thinking about the steam.

    That picture looks like some E.F. Benson fan club rally.

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    1. I need to attend an EF Benson fan club rally - must start looking for one in my area... Jx

      PS Jam tomorrow, jam yesterday, but never ever jam today!

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    2. I was thinking it was like a reunion of all the charladies from all the Barbara Pym movies, but I can seeing them as Tillingit-wannabees, too.

      Fortunately, it was a relatively crisp fall today, so the steam was not worsened by heat...

      I knew someone would bring up Carol Channing - which is never, ever a bad thing.

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  3. Homemade jam? Don't you have Whole Foods? ;)

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    1. You try talking sense to an Egyptian with the jam-monkey on his shoulder...

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  4. You've succeeded in bringing a tear to my eye. As a bright young thing in his first apartment, Eastern Market was my local food source. (It certainly wasn't the skanky Safeway that used to exist on the other side of 7th.)

    Jam on.

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  5. How lovely.

    I also made jam this week: Socorro from the organic farm on the side of the mountain (they are the major employer on my little isthmus and provide a good deal of local economic stimulation by selling their goods to Whole Foods at what I hope are suitably unconscionable sums) bestowed upon us a vast quantity of fruit as thanks for jump starting her antediluvian minivan after it died last Tuesday.

    From what I remember as a young girl, my grandmother would get up early in the morning and look for Catoctin Mountain peaches from Maryland at Eastern Market. They were particularly suited to "putting up" though I never recall her making jam.

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  6. I'm oh-so-impressed with jam-making. Canning scares me.

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    1. I have to admit that two of the biggest surprises that have come from Cooking with Mr. Muscato (soon to be a Knopf bestseller, in a perfect world) have been that two things central to the Received Gospel of Food according to Mother and Grandmothers Muscato simply weren't true: done right, both soup and jam are actually very easy, and not even always enormously time consuming. Who knew?

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