Posts Tagged ‘blackberries’

Red Moon & Jam

moon

 

A still moment in time that I hope to be able to visualise in my heart for ever, for a photograph can only ever hold an image. It may rekindle memories but it could ever convey the my magical moment of sitting outside with a blanket and a hot cup of tea and a very confused cat!

It’s 2.15 and I am watching the sun eclipse the moon on a clear night so bright I can read the stars like a recipe. For the first time ever I looked up and without a map I knew exactly what each star in this night sky is and I was so excited,  I could barely hold onto my voice and not shout out their names,  at last it’s sunk in!  So crystal clear and I can see everyone . I look back at the moon,and it has the appearance of someone draping a hearth rug over her while she sits by the fire, that gives her this earthly glow.  Not wanting to move a muscle as not to miss a second of such beauty I stare and breath in this extraordinary moment. I have to share this time, but who dare I ring at such a late hour? I conect with a few friends, just knowing that we are together looking, dreaming and experiencing the same sight fills my heart, wondering just how they feel.

Then it begins a heartbeat so loud almost deafening, I almost jump out of my seat looking around I steady my nervous its my heart its has started to race with the excitement of the event.  I breath in and smile all at the same time the air is motionless as it the world has stood still, and we watch her performance.  My thoughts begins to accelerate, are you meant to wish upon the moon or do I sing a song of love or do I ?? What might my mum have done? she would have chosen a wish, then wished to see her daughter and I too would have wished to see them both.

I pour another cup of tea from my flask wondering how mad I must look in an English garden with a blanket and flask of tea a stone’s throw from my kitchen.  Mrs moon how you make me laugh I look up at you above the cherry tree, where you have settled into your rug, and how very much you remind me a christmas bauble, and how surreal this all is, then without thinking my mind is in the vegetable plot! and without a moment to lose I jump up,  I grow biodynamically this is perfect for planting! I plant as many winter salad seeds I can see with the world’s smallest touch and red moon light. 

I laugh hoping not to wake the neighbors, they truly would then think that I was completely nuts! mmm then I start to think about Jam… wondering just how the fruit will set tomorrow, and although I have grown by biodynamic methods,  I have yet to note the setting points of jams by this method, so a project begins!

So this morning at first light I picked as many blackberries as my basket could carry and set off into the kitchen to cook the delights. After a few hours my basket was bare so I was off again, finding plenty more hedgerow bounty, each fruit seemed fuller and juicier than before. The I remembered the mushrooms I picked the day before, and off course I truffle hunt biodynamically!!! why O why had I not thought of it in all of my fruit foraging !! So without fail I produced a little chart to record the results. (I Love my reserch!) So if and when I get tangible results of biodynamic setting points in jam I shall let you know.  In the past I have recorded humidity measurements, it has and does affect, the jam setting point no matter the recipes.  In the meantime a little blackberry jam recipe.

 

  1. 2kg of blackberries
  2. 2 kgs of sugar 
  3. juice of one lemon

 

  • Wash and hull the blackberries
  • Sit the blackberrie in the sugar over night 
  • Pop a small plate into the fridge to check for setting point.Wash jars and place in an oven dish and turn your oven to 150C. Put your timer on for 12mins to remind you to turn off the oven.
  • Place the contents in a jam pan and cook on a low heat until all the sugar is dissolved 
  • Once the sugar has dissolved and the blackberries have started to cook (about 35mins) bring the pan to a rolling boil
  • Remove from heat & check for setting point.
  • Carefully remove jars from oven.
  • Ladle jam into jars seal with clean lids
  • Label once cool.

 

 

 

Blackberries & Poets

20140805_171122

 

 

 

For me the Autumn arrives like the dew, heavy and light all at the same time. My wardrobe reflects the cold morning and I dance in the long shadows whilst marveling at the cobwebs and the fading colors of the lavender in the herb garden.

Knowing another season has grown into the year and soon it will lead into the winter for which seems to to as beautiful and as short lived as the spring. Where I will look forward to bright Oranges from Ave Maria Farm in Spain with anticipation of that of a child at Christmas.

In the meantime I pull out my old poetry book and read Blackberry picking by Seamus Heaney,  a poet who could capture a the moment of the everyday and highlight the magic in the undervalued and neglected moments of time passing. This particular poem not only touches my pleasure to read and indulge in poetry for not nothing more than self enjoyment but he turns my head and I look back as if it were this afternoon that I was out picking blackberries before tea, managing with simple words to hold my childhood memory of foraging almost as perfect as my mum’s apple and blackberry pie recipe,  it’s as if he was there. So before you collect the bounty of the Autumn and make wonderful Christmas gifts and recreate your own childhood memories of picking blackberries.  Have a read of just one of his wonderful poems.

Blackberry-Picking

Late August, given heavy rain and sun

For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.

At first, just one, a glossy purple clot

Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.

You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet

Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it

Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for

Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger

Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots

Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills

We trekked and picked until the cans were full,

Until the tinkling bottom had been covered

With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned

Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered

With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.

 

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.

But when the bath was filled we found a fur,

A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.

The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush

The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.

I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair

That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot

Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.

by Seamus Heaney 

Source: Death of a Naturalist (1966).

 

Please get in touch

We'd love to hear from you

Jen

Jennifer Williams

Chief Jam Maker

To contact us please click here