Leaning Vegetarian

Posts Tagged ‘canning’

When I was growing up in Denver, August meant a trip to the western slope for peaches. It’s about four hours to Palisade and Grand Junction, and a full day trip if we (ohpleaseohplease) stopped in Glenwood Springs for a swim in the huge hot springs pool. If you ever have the chance to take the California Zephyr through Glenwood Canyon, do it.

Some years we’d get cases of peaches, and other years we’d go to a U-pick, with Mom and Dad up in the trees handing down buckets of fruit. On the trip back the tiredness of the travel and full day in the sun was offset by the rich scent of peaches wafting into the car from the crates packed snugly in the trunk.

Then my grandmother would dip big peaches into the kettle – how fuzzy fresh peaches are, compared to store peaches – and slide big slices into quart jars. There would also be peach ice cream, and if she had the energy after the steamy day in the kitchen, peach pie.

There are so many recipes I wish I’d asked her to show me, but one gets wise too late. I can’t make peaches without thinking about her.

We found eight large South Carolina peaches in the discount bin at the grocery. They’re a little bruised, but hey, it’s jam. This is going to be a micro-batch of jam – there were four half-pints here.

Using a slotted spoon, place them in a pot of boiling water for a minute or two. This will make the skins slip off easily.

Peel and slice the peaches, and cut each slice into three or four pieces.

In a heavy pan, add sugar and ginger to taste. For these eight peaches, I added a scant half cup of sugar – I tend to like tart jam – and I grated a teaspoon of fresh ginger. This was enough to add a little brightness but not overpower the peaches. I also like a runny jam; if you’d like it to be thicker you could add some pectin or cook it down longer – this was on a medium burner for about 40 minutes.

Note to self: wear closed shoes next time. The jam bubbles as it thickens and it’s hot when it lands on your toes. Probably wouldn’t hurt to have a wet dishcloth at hand for the splorps that escape onto the stove and counter even when you’re trying to be careful with the lid.

To check for doneness, I put a metal tablespoon in the freezer until it was cold, and I called it done when a spoonful of jam poured onto the tablespoon dripped off rather than pouring.

I processed these jars for 10 minutes in boiling water, and am looking forward to some fresh bread toasted with this jam. It might also turn into the filling between cake layers. Hmmm…