Oranges and lemons (and ginger and spring onions)

I’ve been lagging on  updating stuff again, but there were two real marmalade sessions since the Meyer lemon adventure back last month, along with another batch of preserved lemons and a few other odds and sods. The first session celebrated the arrival of Seville oranges in Toronto, and the second one was because one marmalade session clearly wasn’t going to cut it. Then we tried (and possibly failed) to recreate the sounds-nicer-than-it looks apricot date chutney from the New Jersey weekend and threw together a beet relish to give the food processor a workout.  I know I’ve posted about this one before, but I’m damned if I can find the link to post it here. And I have not got any pictures, because I have a new computer and have not managed to download the camera program yet.

But the real revelation in the latest cooking ventures was a ginger scallion sauce from one of those many canning/cooking blogs out there. It probably  probably took 10 minutes from start to finish, including the time it took to dig the food processor out of its hiding place. Recipe is simple. Chop scallions and ginger. Add salt. Heat oil to smoking point and pour oil over the other ingredients, trying hard to not splash yourself with sizzling oil in the process. I’ve been using it to give a zing to cheese and avocado sandwiches, and was planning to add to pasta today before the spouse started cooking ingredients that didn’t seem to want to go with that.

Thanks, Lottie and Doof for the super-easy recipe.

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Meyer lemon … marmalade

I don’t get this one at all, but one day after the making, that Meyer lemon syrup had turned to an almost perfect marmalade, with a serious bite and deliciously chewy chunks of peel. Time for a few recent ratings from some of the more recent jars we opened.

Lemon meyer marmalade: 4-1/2 (out of five)
It loses half a point for panicking me for a day of the making-it process

Lime pickle: 4 (out of 5)
Nice bite, lovely taste, if a little spicy for me. But I’m not sure what I’m going to use it for. Mind you, the recipe did say wait at least a week, so maybe I should wait a little longer

Grapefruit marmalade: 3 (out of 5)
Nice, but nothing special. I’m trying it with home made rice pudding today, which might work better than the marmalada peanut butter sandwich I had yesterday. Mind you, this is last year’s grapefruit marmalade. Do these things age? Will the one we made on Saturday taste better once we get around to eating it?

Apple date chutney: 4 (out of 5)
Nice, solid, tasty, spicy chutney. Very smooth, which is a little disconcerting, and I will add a notch more spice next time.

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Meyer lemon … syrup

I’m going to blame the internet for this one, or perhaps absent canning buddy for storing all the recipe books while we completed the Great Renovation Project I wrote about over in the other blog. But I got myself confused with two different internet recipes today, and created something that tastes lovely, but is definitely not a jam. The idea was to do something with Meyer lemons, which have hit a few of the Toronto stores, although friend and I wavered between an internet recipe that added oranges and one that added pectin. Not quite sure how the confusion started, but I think we added water for the first, sugar for the second and lemons from God only knows where, and no amount of boiling seemed able to transform the resulting concoction from watery mess to proper, well-set marmalade. The peel is floating irritatingly at the top, and the liquid is barely a syrup, although I had this vague hope that it might set a little as it cooled.

It didn’t. Clearly drastic measures were called for.

Introducing my regular lemon ginger cake, with Meyer lemon syrup drizzled over the top to add moisture and a bite.

Now I only have 4-1/2 jars of the concoction to use up.

Bizarre next day update: overnigjht the marmalade set.. Not a firm set, but definitely a set. Curious.

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Cranberry capers

New Jersey canning buddy, the one who introduced me to home made jams and chutneys, snagged a half dozen bags of half-price cranberries in the post-Christmas sales, so I felt morally obliged to head down to New Jersey to help her use them up. We spent an evening scouring the internet for recipes, double guessed ourselves a few times and ended up with a highly gratifying selection. Can’t for the life of me remember where we got all the recipes, and our post-cook taste tests won’t really do justice to the finished product, so I’ll keep this to a picture and a list. In the order we made them:
Cranberry orange marmalade. Cranberries, oranges, sugar and ginger. What can possibly go wrong. I insisted on slicing the orange peel rather than processing it, and I don’t think we needed the pectin the recipe wanted. But it certainly looks good.

Cranberry chutney. A Bernadin/Balls recipe that included chunks of candied pineapple as well as cranberries, apples and ginger. A notch heavy on the cloves, if truth be told, but it may mellow with time

Moroccan chutney. It might have been this one, but we were looking at many options and I can’t remember which one we chose in the end. But I somehow suspect it wasn’t. The one we made seems spicier, and it doesn’t look anything like the picture. Maybe canning buddy can help me out.

Lime pickle. We made this last year, but I never got to take any home with me, so we had to try again this time. I’m not allowed to open it for another week or so (at least that’s what the recipe says), but it definitely has a kick.

There’s something very, very satisfying about a few dozen jars of Home Made Stuff.

 

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My crossover post

We moved over to a new home last week, and acquired the object of every home preserver’s dreams – a separate storage room that’s just for all those jars.

I posted about it in my home renovation blog, which also tells the story of transforming a Toronto semi into a different sort of dream, so all I’m putting here is pictures.

As I said in the other blog, just think of all the extra shelving. I could keep going indefinitely.

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Almonds on steroids

I just want to put on record that the apricot jam from the summer really is rather yummy. As it matured in the cupboard, the flavor from apricot kernels spread stunningly through the whole jam, giving everything an intense almond taste. Apricot kernels are like almonds on steroids, I think. More taste than an almond, and a little less crunch. I have few spoonfuls of the final jar left to enjoy – maybe enough for the rest of this week. But that’s going to be it until next summer. So sad.

Rating: 4-1/2 (out of 5). I’m docking the half point because it set just a little bit too much and hence sank to the bottom of my lunchtime yogurt and needed major stirring to mix it through. I should probably chop the apricot a little smaller next time too — quarter fruit not half fruit.

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New horizons

This was most definitely an adventure rather than a misadventure, and a successful one at that. But biking buddy (and part-time marmalade maker) allowed me to join her for a morning of bread making last weekend. Sure it took all morning, but it proved to me that making bread is not as complicated or as scary as it looks. She made four wholewheat loaves before I got there, and I did a supervised four oatmeal loaves after that. And then we ate half a loaf fresh from the oven, with home-made plum jam.

It helps that buddy has eight super-cool, industrial strength bread tins, and it also helps that she’s done all this many times before. I remember making bread a million years ago, and I had some success with the New York Times no-knead bread last year. But only recent attempt at start-from-scratch, knead-for-ages bread making ended a dismal failure as the chewy bread declined to bouce out of the tins and I was left with chunks that worked better in soup than for sandwiches. I now know I needed to grease the pan far better. Bread is sensitive stuff.

This time was different. We used fresh yeast, which smells (and works) completely differently from the granular dried stuff I used before, and we measured the ingredients to the gram on buddy’s cool electronic scale. (I now covet cool electronic scale as well as coveting industrial strength loaf pans).

And the results were awesome.  Light, tasty bread with a little hint of the fresh yeast, and oodles of  taste and character. My only complaint is that it didn’t have much of a crust, which makes it very little hard to cut, but the taste makes up for it.

Sandwich-sized packages are crowding the freezer, and I can see pan purchases and bread making Saturday mornings crowding my future. But not until we move, which is perhaps only a month away. Take a look at the home reno blog for the latest details.

And as we tried spreading fridge hard butter onto crumbly warm bread, I was reminded of a saying that my mother said her grandmother used to say: “May God punish you with soft bread and cold butter.”

There are worse curses out there, but this one makes me smile.

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Chutney with a kick

For three years in a row we’ve made a curried apple date chutney from one of my favorite recipe books and it seems to vary each year depending on the apples, the vinegar and maybe the mood of the chefs. One year we used empire apples, which didn’t break down properly, and one year we used curry powder instead of curry paste and I complained that the finished product was a notch too bland and a notch and a half too sweet.

This year I dared buy the “hot” curry paste from the market, and used a very generous three tablespoons when canning buddy wasn’t looking. We cut the sugar a little, cut the Macintosh apples up nice and small and used a mix of cider vinegar and white vinegar because it’s all I had in the house.

And this is a chutney to die for. The dates and most of the apples melt away into a dark amber paste, with hunks of buttery soft white apple to add to the color and the texture. Even fresh from the pan it was glorious, with a beautiful lingering afterburn. I had the stuff that wouldn’t fit in our 14 jars it in a lunchtime sandwich, with brown rice bread and 7-year old cheddar, and it was so good that I had a second sandwich almost immediately after. And there are seven jars apiece to look forward to.

Serious yummm.

Chutneys always taste better after a while, but the provisional rating has to be high. 4-1/2 (out of 5) perhaps.

Recipe to follow, when I get the recipe book back from canning buddy.

From there we moved on to a pear-apple-ginger preserve from the same book, because it’s the pear-apple season, and it’s never the wrong season for ginger. We upped the ginger (of course) and added a teaspoon of five-spice because that’s my spice of the moment after the stunning successes of a few plum jams.

The results are good, but not as good as the chutney. The pears were not quite ripe, and the apples didn’t melt away to anything particular at all, leaving a well-set jam that’s actually a little lumpier than I would have liked, with a linger of crunch from a fruit that might be either apple or pear. It’s super-sweet as well, but works like a charm on plain, unsweetened yogurt.

Provisional rating. Probably a 3 (out of 5)

But this one has potential. I want to try it again, with a handful of cranberries for a sourish bite.

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Pairings (pears may come later)

A few thoughts on some of the recent adventures, with success, serious success and a little bit of ho-hummishness, and it really is all about what you mix with what.

Here are a few recent ratings, along with other thoughts.

Peach salsa 2-1/5 (out of five)
There are several reasons why people use recipes, and this made-up-recipied salsa is probably one of them. It’s pleasant enough, but it’s a little mushy and a little runny. I will make a peach salsa again, but I will find a recipe and stick to it.

Tomato jam 3-1/5 (out of 5)
This was the 2011 version of one of last year’s stealth successes, except that I used purple basil instead of  lemon basil and didn’t add balsamic. Nice but not the knock your socks off amazing that we got last year.

Plum jam with five spice 3 (out of five)
Lovely taste, excellent set, decent aftertaste of exotic spice. A little chewy for my taste

Apricot jam 4 (out of 5)
Five stars for the taste. But you can cut this one with a knife, so it loses a star for setting just a notch too well.

Damson jam 2 (out of 5) (or 5 out of 5 with ice cream)
I cut the sugar down to 2 cups for 5 cups of fruit and skipped the spices for a second attempt at damson jam, using a colander to mash the pulp through (and try to get rid of the many, many stones). The set and the color are wonderful, but this is the first jam I’ve made that’s actually a notch too tart.  Mixed with (tart) plain yogurt it was almost unpleasant. But paired with vanilla ice cream it was absolutely, truly amazing.

It’s all about those pairings.

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Plums, plums and plums

I admit I’m getting bolder in the jams I make this year as I learn more about what works and what doesn’t and get a better idea of what sort of jam might set. Things like strawberries, rhubarb and peaches need a lot of help to turn into a jam, which seems to mean macerating the fruit with sugar overnight, fishing the fruit out of the sugar syrup that emerges and boiling that down a bit before throwing the fruit back in and cooking it anew. Plums and on the other hand set like  nobody’s business, but have a tendency to get a little chewy for my taste. (Cherry jam is just chewy, and unless the spouse asks really nicely, I’m not planning to make it again.)

But the other thing is that I’m daring to mix and match a little, taking a bit of one recipe and squirting in a bit of another, or abandoning recipes entirely with a guess at the appropriate proportion of fruit sugar and lemon juice, which are my ingredients for just about any jam. I’ve not had any total failures, although there are a couple of jams that I’m not quite sure about, for one reason or another.

My latest ventures are probably just about the last of the season (unless I try something with pears), and after yellow plum jam and red plum jam (edit: I am starting to wonder if the red plums are actually something called pluots, which are a plum/apricot hybrid), I switched to blue plums this month. It worked, although I admit to tentative reservations, as listed below.

First off came what the farmers market here seems to call prune plums, although I know them by their wonderful tongue-twister German name of Zwetschken. They are a medium small, purple-blue plum with a dusty finish, which are tart when unripe and amazingly sweet and juicy on the rare occasion that the farmers leave them on the trees long enough to ripen properly. My mother used these for Zwetschkenkuchen, with cinammon-sprinkled fruit atop a semi-sweet yeast  dough that was baked so the plums melted into the dough. I used them for a not-quite-regular jam, adding a couple of spoons of Chinese five-spice for a bit of a kick.

My inspiration was the excellent Food in Jars web site, which raved about a plum-star anise jam recipe. But the local Chinese supermarket looked at me blankly when I asked for star anise, so I switched to five-spice.

Vaguely following the Food in Jars recipe, I let 5 cups of fruit, three of sugar, the juice of two lemons and the two teaspoons of five-spice sit around for a day or so before boiling them all up together to the gel point, which went scary fast. It has a lovely set, and a lovely taste, but the plums are a little bit chewy, and I could have cut the sugar. Three out of five, perhaps.

From there I switched to damsons, the tiny, dusty-blue plums that bind the flesh to the stone in an almost impossible way. A couple of British recipes (one was from the BBC) suggested simmering the fruit in a little water first to soften the skin (and prevent the skins getting chewy), and they insisted that a good simmer would let the stones separate out and float to the top, so you could fish them out before you add the sugar and boil it up to jam.

This jam was also pretty easy, and this time I did throw in the star anise, which was available downtown if not at the Chinese supermarket. Tragically it exactly filled four jars, so I can’t offer a taste test yet, beyond saying that the stuff I licked out of the pan was pretty awesome. But there are bound to be stones I missed, so we’ll have to eat it carefully.

Damson jam with star anise

Simmer 5 cups of damsons with a cup and a bit of water and three star anise stars until the stones of the damsons separate out fairly easily, and remove as many stones as you can find without spraying dark, red damson juice all over the kitchen. (I only had three cups of damsons, but I had enough of the other plums to make up five cups of fruit. I may have to make this jam again with damsons only, for taste-test comparison purposes)

Add a scant 3 cups of sugar, simmer until the sugar dissolves and then boil at a rolling boil until you think it’s set nicely. It took less than five minutes.

Remove the star anise stars, and bottle in sterilized jars. Waterbath for 10 minutes to meet tough U.S. waterbathing standards.

My reservation: Surely there has to be an easier way to remove the stones.

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