Inconvenient Plums
Feb. 3rd, 2025 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msconductJust when I'm going to the beach at the end of the week, my damson tree decided today to have all its plums in exactly ripe for picking condition. I net the bottom half of the tree and let the birds have the top half, and in return they let me know when to pick. I glanced out the window today and saw eight birds in the tree nomming away. A) adorable and B) uh-oh. No time to waste.
Fruit picking always sounds to me like you're swanning dreamily through a picturesque orchard in a floaty dress and a big hat, delicately plucking down a fruit from time to time and placing it in a quaint cane basket with trailing ribbons. Of course, if you've ever done it, you'll know that it's actually hard, sweaty, scratchy work, usually at the hottest time of the year. I'm only grateful I looked out the window at a time of the day that part of the tree was in shade.
Damsons are the bestest ever trees, especially for a terrible gardener like myself. They literally require not a single bit of maintenance, they're hardy and disease-free and they produce an absolutely stunning amount of fruit that makes the best jam in the world (if you like tart jam, which I do and so do my nearest and dearest). But hoo boy, they make you work for it. I sweatily and scratchily picked a total of 20 kg (44 pounds) of fruit, in a sweaty, scratchy hour. (And there was at least as much as that left on the top.)
So I had the plums, but then I had another problem: I had the plums. Normally I throw them in the freezer and make jam at a nicer time of year to have the kitchen hot than a humid February. But this year I picked way more fruit than I usually do because my mother has developed a damson jam addiction, which I'm more than happy to facilitate (the more calories I can get in her the better). Add that to the fact that I've topped up my freezer with as much chicken as I can squeeze into it in case bird flu arrives here, and I knew I had no chance of freezing more than a couple of kilos. So industrial level jam-making this week it is.
But argh, it's SO MUCH WORK. You're supposed to make jam in small quantities, but I cheated by looking online until I could find someone who would let me half-fill my Kilner pan (that's three kilos). The laugh was on me, though, as it burned on the bottom so I had to boil biological washing powder in it for ages to get the burn off.
I've tried various recipes, and the best one I've found makes you cook the jam over a low heat for a couple of hours: this means it always sets and keeps very well, but...it takes a couple of hours. And I've still got 17 kilos to go. It's going to be a very busy week.
Fruit picking always sounds to me like you're swanning dreamily through a picturesque orchard in a floaty dress and a big hat, delicately plucking down a fruit from time to time and placing it in a quaint cane basket with trailing ribbons. Of course, if you've ever done it, you'll know that it's actually hard, sweaty, scratchy work, usually at the hottest time of the year. I'm only grateful I looked out the window at a time of the day that part of the tree was in shade.
Damsons are the bestest ever trees, especially for a terrible gardener like myself. They literally require not a single bit of maintenance, they're hardy and disease-free and they produce an absolutely stunning amount of fruit that makes the best jam in the world (if you like tart jam, which I do and so do my nearest and dearest). But hoo boy, they make you work for it. I sweatily and scratchily picked a total of 20 kg (44 pounds) of fruit, in a sweaty, scratchy hour. (And there was at least as much as that left on the top.)
So I had the plums, but then I had another problem: I had the plums. Normally I throw them in the freezer and make jam at a nicer time of year to have the kitchen hot than a humid February. But this year I picked way more fruit than I usually do because my mother has developed a damson jam addiction, which I'm more than happy to facilitate (the more calories I can get in her the better). Add that to the fact that I've topped up my freezer with as much chicken as I can squeeze into it in case bird flu arrives here, and I knew I had no chance of freezing more than a couple of kilos. So industrial level jam-making this week it is.
But argh, it's SO MUCH WORK. You're supposed to make jam in small quantities, but I cheated by looking online until I could find someone who would let me half-fill my Kilner pan (that's three kilos). The laugh was on me, though, as it burned on the bottom so I had to boil biological washing powder in it for ages to get the burn off.
I've tried various recipes, and the best one I've found makes you cook the jam over a low heat for a couple of hours: this means it always sets and keeps very well, but...it takes a couple of hours. And I've still got 17 kilos to go. It's going to be a very busy week.
