Cherry & Walnut Jam

Do you have so much fruit that the kids in your neighborhood have given up raiding your fruit trees and are instead honing their shoplifting skills in town? Here in Hawke's Bay, tree after tree after tree is laden with the summer's bounty. As a result, I find myself with quite a few kilos of fruit, particularly cherries, so it made sense to start preserving some of this excess goodness for later use - time to make some jam.

I Don't Think You're Ready For This Jelly*

A good crabapple jelly should be crystal clear, devoid of the flotsam and jetsam of bog-standard jams, and yet still be packed full of flavour. Made properly, it should be firm but not unyielding, while still possessing a degree of wobble - just like a pair of gym-honed buttocks.

Jam On It

It's been a disappointing year for berryfruit (stonefruit too), largely because of the diabolical weather - lots of rain and heat promoting mould and fungal growth, as well as insufficient sun to colour up fruit. I managed to round up enough blackberries for the cordial I made earlier, but when it came to the jam, I had to bulk out what I had with frozen stuff. There's a marginal tradeoff in terms of flavour, but it's a small price to pay for home made jam.

Aunt Daisy's Rhubarb & Strawberry Jam

What's all this then? Well, it started with my latest acquisition...

Rhubarb, Apricot & Ginger Chutney

At the bottom of your typical New Zealand backyard, just past Francesco the Jack Russell's grave and the smelly old compost pile, is an oft neglected plant found in many a New Zealand back yard: the rhubarb plant. It's a sturdy thing, requiring little in the way of attention; bearing a resemblance to silverbeet, it has long crimson stalks topped with full, leafy green, leaves. 

Clearing Out the Fridge 2 - Peanut Butter & Jelly Toasted Sandwich

Remember my last post, where I found the membrillo lurking in the back of my fridge? I also came across a jar of Welch's grape jam, an American pantry staple sent to me ages ago by my friend Ashley. This brought immediately to mind a recipe given to me the other day by Gwen, a genuine American citizen living in Waipawa! It's for a peanut butter and jelly toasted sandwich. Here goes...

PB 'n' J Toasted Sandwich
You will need:

• 2 pieces of white bread
• butter
• grape jam or jelly (hard to find but you could try Trademe, Ebay, or the neat Asian food store in Napier near Firecats - they get it in every once in a while, as well as A&W root beer!)
• smooth peanut butter

Grab a frying pan and heat over a hob on a temperature somewhere between low and medium. While that's happening, butter your two pieces of bread. Flip the slices over and spread thickly with peanut butter. Then spread one piece with a generous helping of grape jelly. Sandwich together with the buttered sides facing outwards. Place in your frying pan and brown first one side, then the other. Remove the pan from the heat, slip your toasted sandwich onto a plate and devour with a glass of milk. God bless America...and antacids.

Clearing Out the Fridge - Membrillo

I was cleaning out my fridge the other day (no treasures to be found, apart from a bottle of creaming soda mix for my Sodastream - w00t!) ) when I came across this, the last of the membrillo I made back in May. Membrillo, originating in Spain, is a firm sliceable paste made from quince, typically served with manchego. Other cheeses work just as well; when I made it, I was shovelling it down with some vintage gouda - delicious! It's still in excellent condition, thanks to its high sugar content and having lived in the fridge all this time.

While quince aren't in season until autumn, knowing how to make membrillo is a handy skill to have. Like lemons and grapefruit in this country, it's not uncommon to see quince languishing on trees and going to waste (a bugbear of mine), due to folk being unaware of their potential. Write this down and consider making it once they're available; quince paste ain't cheap to buy, plus it's immensely satisfying to make. Here's the recipe:

Membrillo

• 1.8 kg of quince, washed, peeled, cored, roughly chopped
• 1 vanilla pod, split and scraped
• lemon peel, 2 band-aid sized strips
• 3 tbsp lemon juice
• sugar - keep it handy; the amount you'll need won't be determined until we start cooking

Place quince pieces in a large pot and cover with water. Add vanilla pod, seeds and lemon peel and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook until the quince pieces are soft, about half an hour.

Strain the water from the quince pieces. Discard the vanilla pod but keep the lemon peel with the quince. Blitz with a stick mixer or a food processor. Now weigh the quince - whatever amount you have, you'll need the equivalent amount in sugar eg, 5 cups of quince puree = 5 cups of sugar.

Return the quince to the pot. Heat to medium-low. Add the sugar. Stir with a wooden spoon until the sugar has completely dissolved - this step is important; if it does't dissolve properly, it won't gel. Once done, add the lemon juice.

Continue to cook over a low heat for 1 - 1.5 hours, stirring occasionally. The paste will gradually thicken and turn an orangey pink colour.

Preheat oven to a low 55°C. Line an 18 cm x 22 cm pan with baking paper. Grease it with a thin coating of butter and pour in the paste. Using a knife, smooth out the paste so that it's evenly distributed, and place in the oven for about an hour and a half. Remove from the oven to cool.

To serve, cut into cubes or wedges and pair with cheese, traditionally manchego. To store, wrap in cling film and place in the fridge.

Handy links:

So what exactly is a quince? clickety

Things to do with quince paste clickety