Jelly with June

 I have always felt at home in the kitchen. Rather, the kitchen is my home.  I discovered this early in life. It is the room in the house where I am most familiar, where flavors and aromas call to me, reminding me of spaces of time and people in my life. A pot of simmering soup, bread baking, a waffle in the hot oiled griddle, popcorn....the list goes on. Traditions are established and passed on in kitchens. It is where  connections to people, often our loved ones, are formed. Connections to the past are evoked with a recipe, an ingredient, or an aroma. New memories are made. Learning and growth happens in the kitchen.  When my mother invited me to make Concord grape jelly with her recently, it's no wonder why I gathered up some jars and headed to her kitchen.

The skim was my favorite

As a kid, I would stand by the stove when my mother made jellies and jams. I would await the opportunity to help if asked, and relish the chance to dip a spoon into the sweet skim that she removed from the pot before pouring into the jars. If she was baking, I would be the first to ask to stir, knowing that I would have the reward of licking the spoon. 

A sweet childhood- yes indeed! 

My mom, now 74- though she will tell you is celebrating 69 forever, is a youthful, spirited woman with a number of talents. Among her many which include being an artist, and a published writer, she is a talented home cook. I believe that if it wouldn't have been for her invitations long ago to help her in the kitchen, I'm not sure if I would have developed the interest that I did, and continued on to attend and graduate from the CIA. We were a good fit-- the kitchen and me- the introvert. 

It's not a recipe for jelly that I will share, as recipes for jellies, jams, preserves are many. When it comes to making such items, it is all about the quality of the ingredients and the processes or procedures. Chances are that we have a favorite, and it may even be tied to a sweet memory.

Mom and me preserving  jelly and memories too!

There are times when I've wanted to package a time, a moment, a memory. Making jelly with my mom, June, is one of those times. Memories can fade, but thankfully when they are paired with other senses like our taste, sight, smell, touch, sound- they all come back to us when we open a jar, taste or smell a food. All of that  condensed into a jar of jelly. Come to think of it, aside from the practicality side of needing to preserve food, perhaps today, we preserve more out of reasons of nostalgia. For whatever reason one cans, dries or preserves foods, the benefits are many...and they're all yours to keep...including the moment you open the jar, go to the freezer, pantry, or the root cellar. 

My mother had A LOT of Concord grapes....a roadside haul that hardcore jelly makers would envy. They had been in her freezer since autumn, and she was intent on making space for the upcoming gardening season.

For years, my mother has imparted words of wisdom, and when it comes to jelly making, it is no different. Her mother, did a ton of preserving as well.

Mom at the helm in her kitchen

Arrival at my mom's begins with a cup of tea, no matter what we have planned. On this spring morning, we sip tea as we gather the necessary equipment for our work.

The grapes have already been washed and we begin to crush them, draining the juice into a bowl below the cheesecloth draped sieve. She tells me the story when the hot jar slipped from tongs and crashed to the floor and broke. My mother explains why she butters the pot to keep the jelly from boiling over. She ensures that there is a plate in the freezer so that we can use it to test the jelly for proper consistency.  

The kitchen is filled with warmth, the sweet steam rolls out of the pot. A spoon is dipped into the jelly to test its thickness. "Perfect," we remark. Then, it's poured into hot jars. Together, we  eye the jars to make sure that they are filled to the proper level. We talk about batches that didn't work, and winning combinations of fruit that made delicious jellies. We plan and scheme about the next season and all of the possibilities.  The tea kettle is turned on so that we can enjoy another cup of tea. We clean up and prepare for a second batch.

There is a lot of time for conversation during the process of pressing, straining the fruit and getting it to the stove. We let the answering machine pick up phone calls. The pace hastens when the jelly begins cooking, and as is the case in life, it all happens rather quickly. It's a good enough reason if one needed it, to appreciate the sweet spots.

Nearly two dozen jars later, we're beat, and the air in the kitchen is thick with sugar. My mother proudly reminds  me about the importance of letting the jars sit until tomorrow so as not to disturb the jelling process. The jars are still hot anyway, and we delight in the sounds of the pinging indicating successful seals.  

Later that week, I pass my pantry,  and admire the jars of Concord grape jelly. They represent far more than grapes and sugar, but time spent together, carrying on with a tradition; and a bond that we share, and always will.