By KAREN MADORIN
I’ve heard some folks refer to cattle as hamburger on the hoof. With this reference in mind, the past few weeks had me salivating to think of potential, luscious jellies still on the bush. Yes, each of those fragrant bee-attracting blooms is a bit of jelly on the plant, and I can’t wait to harvest the fruits and heat up the kitchen.
This year’s currant bushes sport fragrant yellow blooms that promise tasty toast toppings, while hundreds of chokecherry bushes blossom out, hinting of savory, rose-red bliss. Unfortunately, some sand hill plums flowered so early that frost nipped blooms. Despite potential damage, I hope to harvest some for the jelly pot.
I’ve kept an eye on the wild grape vines nearby, but I can’t tell whether to develop a hankering for wild grape jelly or not. Grapes are difficult to predict because the plant can set little clusters, but dry conditions can shrivel them before they ever make actual fruit. Complicating matters, birds love wild grapes so it’s a contest to see whether I can pluck these from the vine before my feathered neighbors eat them first.
Years ago, our country currants produced in overdrive, but our free-range chickens dashed hopes of beating them to the harvest. I’d eyeball the deepening color of the round fruits each day, and by the time they reached picking perfection, 30+ walking egg factories gobbled til the little stems hung bare. I felt fortunate to toss a few in salads by the time the chickens finished their dinners. This year, our chickens live a confined life and we have to ask permission to pick wild currants. Based on the bloom, perhaps I’ll collect enough for jelly making.
Because a combination of an early bloom and a late frost wiped out most hopes of summer jelly making last summer, I’ve watched this year’s plants with an eagle eye. Barring insect or hail damage, this year’s jelly making prospects look good.
Currently, no pun intended, scores of empty jelly jars occupy a basement corner. Each empty vessel testifies to my failure to harvest a single chokecherry or sand hill plum over past summers. If there were wild grapes, I never found enough to amount to a pot of simmering purple brew.
This summer’s goal is to harvest bowls of currants, buckets of chokecherries and hopefully grapes, with a pan of sand hill plums added as each fruit ripens. I’ll simmer these in a kettle on the stove to create a little magic with simple ingredients such as Sure Gel and sugar added to fruit juices. Once the cooked mixture drips ever so slowly off a mixing spoon, I’ll pour the ambrosia into empty fruit jars, seal them, and let them jell. For dramatic effect, I’ll stack the results in front of my kitchen window and let the rising sun shine through until it looks like stained glass.
Once I savor those pretty colors, I’ll share with family and friends throughout the winter as reminders of summer on toast and biscuits.