Good morning, gardeners, and welcome to the Saturday Morning Garden Blog!
"Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth." ~ Henry David Thoreau
Long before i became an underpaid gardener, i was an overpaid waitress. I'm saying i was overpaid because i was absolutely terrible at it (so terrible that i was moved to the coat-check room because coats are a lot harder to shatter than a fully stacked platter of plates). Back then, restaurant menus were a gastronomic wonderment of complicated dishes made with exotic, imported ingredients. But in today's culture of fitness and sustainability, many restaurants are embracing the farm-to-table movement where locally harvested, seasonal ingredients are prepared in a style of elegant simplicity.
For gardeners, the farm-to-table principle is nothing new. Indeed, anyone who grows anything edible is a wheel on the farm-to-table wagon, whether it's acres of fruits and vegetables or an herb pot on a windowsill. In my garden, at this moment, it's all about the plums ...
Every Spring, plum flowers are among the first blooms i see in my Pacific Northwest garden. By mid-summer, leggy branches cascade in tangled arches of heavy, sweet fruit. Right now, if my refrigerator was a box of crayons, it would be bursting at the seams with Satsuma Red and Shiro Yellow. Both plum varieties are gorgeous when eaten unmolested, but this year, i crushed them up to make jam:
Oh? You'd like the recipe? I'm so glad you asked!
Plum Delicious Jam
4 cups Shiro or Satsuma Plums, pits removed
2 cups sugar
1 cup water
Juice of 1 lemon
cinnamon stick
dash of vanilla (optional)
First of all, don't let anyone tell you it's important to remove the skins if you want to make a good plum jam. It isn't. The skins are fine. Just slice the plums, remove the pits, and mush the flesh through your fingertips, skins and all. Stop when you have four cups of crushed plums. Then, simmer all ingredients in a large saucepan over low heat. Pull up a stool, because you're going to stir constantly until the mixture thickens and reduces by at least half. On my stove, this process takes a little over an hour. While Satsuma jam retains its bold red color, the Shiro jam changes from a sunny yellow to a gorgeous golden brown as it thickens ...
Let the jam cool and store it in the refrigerator. Pair it with slices of torn crusty bread and a hunk of stinky cheese. Or spread it on toast. Or eat it with a spoon. Delicious!
Once the last of the Shiro and Satsumas are harvested, there's a small break before the Italian plums are ripe. They, too, are delicious straight off the tree, but their tangy sweetness also makes a beautiful buttery tart. Here's one i made last year ...
And before long, it'll be time to bring the apples in. Since no sprays or chemicals are used on our trees, the apples are often a little spotty. Having to slice away the imperfections is a good excuse to make a fragrant and bubbling crisp ...
It's a sure sign that autumn is around the corner when the house smells like baked apples. But for now, the word "crisp" applies to the world beyond the kitchen, where the garden is suffering terribly from a series of summer heat waves and the complete lack of rain. Walking around the yard, the list of what looks good is pretty pitiful:
Thorny roses ...
From bud to hip ...
Russian Sage ...
Which is spreading a lot more quickly than the agapanthus i paired it with ...
Out on the trail, the streams are dry ...
Wood is brittle ...
But the wild blackberries are plump and sweet. The birds can't get enough of them ...
What's going on in your gardens? Do you grow any edibles? Care to share a recipe?