FOOD ON THE FOOD

Grape Expectations

We’ve been enjoying fruit from Autumn Hills Orchard in Groton for three seasons now through a partnership they have with local CSAs. The shares consist of mostly apples--different varieties, all delicious--but some weeks you’ll get a few pears or peaches mixed in, a pint of prune plums, or, as we recently received, a bunch of Concord grapes.

The grapes smelled so good, I couldn’t even believe it. I got a little drunk off the heady aroma and started engaging in some grape-related tweeting, mostly about where one might find teeny-tiny dollhouse-sized mason jars to fit the amount of jam I’d be able to make with a single bunch of grapes. Pretty soon, Ann at Autumn Hills was offering to drop more off at my house while making her delivery rounds. I tried not to sound too desperate as we made arrangements.

Later on that day, under cover of darkness, the grape fairy left on my porch five pounds of the most fragrant, sweet, musky grapes this side of Concord. Which made the most fragrant, sweet, delicious grape jam I’ve ever tasted. Seriously, I can’t bring myself to put it on peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter wouldn’t know a classy jam if it kicked him in the nuts. I don’t have a canner or anything snazzy like that. I don’t usually “can” anything officially. I just make enough of whatever it is that can be consumed within two months and then store it in jars in the fridge. But now I’m getting the bug. Blame it on Calamity Shazaam in the Kitchen who attended Eugenia Bone’s recent canning class and had the marinated cauliflower to prove it. This other cool canning blog didn’t hurt, either. So, I canned 9 out of the 12 jars of jam, as many as would fit in my pot at one time, and refrigerated the rest.

Looking at the purple jars lined up in my pantry (aka some shelves at the top of the basement stairs), I can’t wait to savor the taste of sweet summer sunshine in between chiseling our way out of our ice house this winter. I’ve already polished off a jar spreading it on my morning toast and mid-morning snack/mid-afternoon snack/dessert of jam/Manchego cheese. This stuff is supernatural. Next, I’m canning applesauce. You can’t stop me.

Concord Grape Jam

I accidentally bought the pectin for sugar-free recipes instead of the regular kind because reading labels is not my strong suit. It worked perfectly, though. I wouldn’t change a thing.

5 lbs. Concord grapes, plucked from the vine, washed
1 cup water
1 box pectin (not gelatin)
7 cups sugar

Sterilize your jars however you like to do it. I boiled them for 10 minutes in a stock pot, jars resting on their metal rings to keep the glass from rattling horribly on the bottom.

In another large pot, mash grapes, add water, and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer 10 minutes. Let cool a bit, then run through a food mill. Of the three disks that came with the food mill, I used the one with the mid-sized holes, which kept out seeds and skins but kept in a little bit of pulp, not too much. I was left with about 7 cups of grape puree. Return puree to pot, add pectin, and bring to a hard boil. Stir in the sugar, return to a boil, and cook 1 minute longer. Remove from heat.

Ladle into sterilized jars leaving about ½-inch of headspace. Wipe off rims of jars with a damp paper towel. Screw on lids and boil jars for 10 minutes in water covering them by 1 inch. Let cool 24 hours (you should hear the suction pull the metal lids inward with a pop as they cool). If you don’t achieve a good seal or if you want to just skip the canning, store the jars in the refrigerator and give away whatever you won’t be able to eat. Label jars with the date. Makes 12 half-pint jelly jars.

Source: Adapted from The Salted Cod. We did a jam swap last year, so I knew his recipe was a good one.

Pancakes (and Parentheses)

I haven’t cooked that much this week due to a looming deadline I foolishly thought I’d be up for.  (Note to self: Get your life in order first.  You have all the time in the world for this kind of stuff later.  Maybe.) 

Happily, Husband made his famous Eat Local blueberry pancakes (along with Codman Farm bacon) for dinner last night, or “brinner” as the First Grader likes to call it.  I always find the act of eating pancakes to be not only delicious but therapeutic.  My ritual has been the same for as long as I can remember:

Place pat of butter on top of each warm pancake, preferably on a stack three high, to induce at least partial melting (soft, partially melted butter is always better than fully melted butter; cold, hard butter is unacceptable).  Pour maple syrup over the stack, making sure most of it drips down the sides forming pools for dipping.  Gravity has never let me down so far. (Over the years, I’ve settled on the dipping strategy because dry pancakes with the syrup already soaked in might as well have no syrup at all.  You can keep pouring more syrup on top, but it’s just going to keep soaking in.  How big is your maple syrup budget?  My rule of thumb is, if the piece of pancake I’m about to eat doesn’t shine with syrup, then there’s not enough syrup.  (Hence the dipping.)). 

One side of the stack at a time, cut off the edges, dip them, etc. (I tend to cut them into smaller pieces to make the process last as long as possible).  That leaves me with a square stack of interior pancakes soaked with maximum butter, which gets cut into four equal squares (NOT triangles) to mop up the syrup until it’s gone.  Add more syrup to finish off squares.  Note remaining syrup.  Get more pancakes to finish off syrup.  Repeat.  (Pancake-to-syrup ratio is similar to the milk-to-cereal ratio discussed in previous guest post.)

You could analyze this all sorts of different ways, about saving the best for last or trying to exert some control over one’s environment, but I think it’s just that I really like butter and maple syrup.  Needless to say, my manner of pancake consumption drives Husband crazy.  For me, it’s comforting because it reminds me of who I am.  This becomes increasingly important the less physically recognizable I become.  And, who I am, apparently, is someone who likes to subject herself to alternately stressful and euphoric manic writing binges with unreasonable deadlines. 

(And pancakes.)

 

Blueberry Whole Wheat Pancakes

I’m reprising this recipe from a post a few years ago, it’s such a favorite.

4 eggs
2 cups milk
¼ cup vegetable oil
6 Tbsp. butter, melted
1¼ cup whole wheat flour
1¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. baking powder
2 Tbsp. maple sugar
1 tsp. salt
1½ cups frozen blueberries, defrosted

Beat eggs in a large bowl until light and foamy.  Add milk, oil, and butter, and whisk to blend.  Sift dry ingredients over wet ingredients in bowl, and whisk until combined.

Heat nonstick frying pan over medium heat until hot (test by flicking some water into the pan; the water droplets should sizzle vigorously and disappear).  Pour batter into pan in the size you prefer, and sprinkle blueberries over the batter.  Let the pancakes get some color, then flip.  Repeat with remaining batter.  Apply butter and maple syrup, and you’re good to go.

Local Sources:

Eggs, bacon: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA

Milk: Stonyfield Farm, Londonderry, NH

Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT

Whole wheat flour: Wood Prairie Farm, Bridgewater, ME (mail order)

Maple sugar: The Warren Farm & Sugarhouse, North Brookfield, MA (Waltham Farmer’s Market)

Blueberries: Wyman’s, Milbridge, ME

Maple syrup: Butternut Mountain Farm, Morrisville, VT