“First I eat half a basket of the best strawberries in America. Nobody has them but the Chinos. Then I eat half a basket of the other best strawberries in America. As long as I pretend to take notes, nobody gawks at my behavior. Then I eat four orange cherry tomatoes. Then I eat a white cherry tomato because it is fun to eat a white cherry tomato. Then I eat half a basket of the best boysenberries I have ever tasted. And then I get down to work.” – paraphrased from Jeffrey Steingarten’s “Cream of the Crop” from It Must Have Been Something I Ate.
Yes, I’m on a Steingarten kick right now. I promise I’ll stop quoting/stealing his work soon and get back to my own stuff, but rereading his books is always a fun time. I got so inspired the other day I immediately had to order copies of both his books for my cousin, www.harvestandhoney.com because I can’t remember if I’ve already sent them to her before. (We share a similar enthusiasm for foodstuffs. I once came home from work to find three pounds of ground beef had been shipped to me packed in dry ice for no reason at all, other than she wanted me to try it. She was the first person I texted when I had my Eureka moment with the Zuccheroni. Hi, H&H! Watch your mailbox!)
Ever read something and a little phrase, sentence, or passage just sticks with you? You just think about it and wonder what it was like and need to try it? In his essay, Mr. S. describes sharing Kazumi (Kay) Chino’s Apricot Conserves with a friend:
“I once offered Kazumi’s conserves to my friend Pierre Hermé, probably the greatest pastry chef in France. Pierre quickly and silently consumed half the jar, a really big jar, paused for breath, turned to me and said, ‘This is perfect, non?’”
That stuck with me. I want that perfection. While I don’t have the Chinos’ Del Ray, California farm within an easy driving distance from my house (Google maps tells me it’s roughly 2,161 miles door to door), Kroger has some unexpectedly lovely apricots this week, so I guess it’s now or never.
I won’t go into the nitpicky details of jam-making and canning today. I’ve done it before, others have done it (better) before, and it’s boring. Plus I’d probably have a typo, someone would try to follow my directions, and end up with botulism. I follow the instructions and recipe laid out in “Cream of the Crop”, which is mostly pretty standard jam-making. Prepare your jars and lids. I have found I have an uncanny knack for eyeballing the amount of jars I will need for the fruit available. I select four mini-jars and two pint-sized jars for my three pounds of apricots. Remember this. Mark my words.
Wash, pit, and halve the apricots. Take ten minutes out of your valuable weekend to peel the tiny stickers off each and every one. You won’t regret this step. In a large, wide saucepan, boil together 1/3 cup of water with ¾ cups of sugar. Stir constantly, hoping it will reach the “thread stage”. This is not something I am familiar with, as candy-making is still an intimidating process that would probably result in further second degree burns to add to the stripey pattern of scars I’m developing on my forearm. (Watching Chef, I noticed Jon Favreau sported a similar burn to several of mine, and felt temporarily legit. Fun movie.) Not being an experienced candy-maker, I used my Thermapen (my love, my precious) to try to gauge 230 degrees. Using a large, wide saucepan means the liquid is only around ¼ inch deep, so I have to tilt and hold the pan at an angle so I can accurately measure the temperature, while somehow stirring constantly. Let’s just say I almost burned my tummy. No pictures. When the temp hit 225, I lowered the pan, assuming the spread would bring the liquid up the last five degrees. I assume this happened. Add half the fruit, and stir constantly. Stir constantly. Maybe that should be the title of this post? Here’s the lovely mess:
I was worried that there wasn’t enough liquid to make a jam-like consistency, but the apricots soon began exuding lots of lovely aromatic juices. Stir constantly until the liquid began to take on an orangey- color from the juice. Then add the rest of the sugar, stir, and the rest of the fruit. Stir constantly.
As it cooks, start chopping and mashing with a sturdy spoon to get the fruit bits to the size you desire. The longer you cook, and the longer you stir constantly, the softer and more jam-like the fruit will get. Mr. S. prefers keeping the apricot halves intact. I go for something in between, while stirring constantly.
When the consistency is just right, remove from heat and stir in two tablespoons of lemon juice.
Fill and seal your jars. My conserves just fill all my prepared jars with two or three tablespoons leftover for sampling. Remember how awesome I am at this? I can also find four-leaf clovers and dribble a basketball between my legs, so if you know anyone that’s hiring…
This might not be quite the thing for a peanut butter sandwich, but I plan to drizzle it over vanilla ice cream, or spread it over baked chicken like a glaze. As promised, the taste is pretty close to perfect. It’s not the corn-syrupy sweetness of grocery store jam – more like the sugar enhances the delicate apricot flavor just enough. If you’ll forgive me for being a little flowery, it kinda tastes like sunshine. A little.
A little jar of sunshine sounds pretty good, non?
illdothedisheslater 