Small-batch fig and peach jam is the perfect way to make the best of sub-optimal end-of-season fruit
Summer is coming to a close, thank everything that is sacred, and I have learned a poignant lesson: Peach season is over before farmer’s market vendors say it’s over.
Sure, you might get a juicy, sweet peach at the end of August, but you’re more likely to bite into a mouthful of mealy fruit than not.
BUT FRET NOT. Raid your neighbor’s fig tree (or come down in the morning to a bin full of them on the front step, delivered by the neighbor himself), and get ready to make the most delicious, small-batch fig and peach jam. It’s fast and easy and brings out the succulent peachy goodness that’s hiding behind that mealy texture.
Fig and Peach Jam This makes about four half-pints of jam, with a little leftover to eat immediately over ice cream or spread on toast with goat cheese.
Ingredients
2 cups of peaches, peeled, pitted, and chopped*
2 cups figs, chopped
2 cups sugar
2-4 tablespoons lemon juice
½ teaspoon salt
¼ to ½ teaspoon almond extract
Method
If you plan on water bath processing your jam, prepare your jars first. Wash jars and lids in warm, soapy water while you bring a stockpot of water to boil on the stove. Boil clean jars for two minutes, then move to a clean dish towel. Dip lids, ladles, and anything else you will use in the canning process into the boiling water and set aside.
Put a clean plate in the freezer to test the fig and peach jam for doneness. This will become clear soon.
Place figs, peaches, sugar, lemon juice, and salt in a large (at least 4-quart) pot. Leave lots of headspace for the jam to foam. Bring to a boil.
Play something nice on the radio or load up a podcast. Lower the heat to medium-low, and stir as the jam boils/simmers. Stir the foam down as it rises.
Boil for 15 minutes, then get out a masher or an immersion blender. Use either tool to mash some of the fruit or all of it if you like. I prefer some texture in my jam. Return the jam to a boil.
To see if your jam is ready, remove the frozen plate from the freezer and spoon some jam onto it. Let cool for a few minutes, then drag a finger through the jam. If it makes a path that does not get filled immediately by liquid-y jam, it’s ready. If the path fills in quickly, keep boiling and stirring. Wash the plate, dry it completely, and put it back in the freezer. Test after another ten minutes until the path your finger makes stays clear.
When it’s ready, remove the jam from the heat and stir in almond extract. You could skip this, but I would not recommend it. The almond adds a depth of flavor that really comes through in the final jam.
Ladle fig and peach jam into prepared jars, leaving ¼” headspace. If you are not planning on water bath processing, set aside and let cool at room temperature without moving overnight, then move to the ‘fridge or freezer.
To water bath can, heat a large stockpot of water to boiling. Carefully lower the jars of jam into the boiling water (make sure the water is at least an inch above the jars). Boil for five minutes, then remove to cool on the counter overnight. Listen for the lid to “pop,” indicating a seal. This might take a full 24 hours. If the lids don’t pop, you could either remove the lid, add a new one, and reprocess, or you can place it in the freezer or ‘fridge.
Unprocessed fig and peach jam is good in the fridge for a few weeks; canned jam with a proper seal lasts for years.
*Note: I used slightly more than two cups of peaches, and nearly exactly two cups of figs, as that is the fruit I had. You could change the ratio and add more figs than peaches if you like.
Eating with a spoon is the best kind of eating. Fight me.
Well, here we are, July 1, time for me to begin to pull together the one blog a month I felt I could pull off.
Yes, this is past tense.
But I am not going to beat myself up about it. Because here I am, on the 1st, sitting in my studio, looking at a painting in progress and watching the neighborhood scary/tragic neighbor do slow and sweaty laps around the block on a loop. And writing this.
This July 1st, I find my two favorite people out of town, one for one week, the other for two, and I am feeling a mite blue about that. Mine is a generally solitary existence, but the people I like I really like and I want them around.
On top of the stupid solar system and my MIA people, my plan to get rejected is going well. The goal is 100 rejections by the end of 2020, and although I started off slowly, things are picking up. I found a place that will reject my work within 24 hours, and The Sun has rejected my photography, poetry, and prose. The point of all of this rejection is to get serious about submission and creating new works, and to some extent, it is working. I have written a couple of new poems this past month and have been note-taking and researching other forms of poetry and doing generally writerly things.
But the rejection can be a little challenging. Not knock-me-back-on-my-ass challenging, just not completely pleasant. I have gotten some lovely form rejection letters (in the vein of, “This is no commentary on the quality of the writing” which may, upon reflection, be a falsehood and not very nice at all and actually a loud commentary on the quality of the writing).
I do have a poem being published in Plainsongs this month. The acceptance letter referred to it as “your fine poem.” My self-esteem will be dining on those three words for at least the rest of the summer.
So I am just feeling meh and low-grade shitty. As this is a blog, I put that forth as an entirely legitimate way to describe what I am feeling. I am saving the words for the poetry.
And I have been cooking, even though it’s sad little meals for one. Today I made mango sticky rice in the rice cooker and some granola with the last bits of Costco dried mango (it’s mango-riffic), the only fruit I could scrounge up in my pantry.
I made gluten-free chocolate frosted chocolate fudge chocolate Pop-tarts that I had to throw out because they were making me ill, they were so rich (I saved an unfrosted batch in the ‘fridge).
I made epic pizza crust and ate the shit outta that (pro-tip: don’t make the crust too thin and it’s MONEY).
Many other lesser lights have made it to the groaning board in the past 30 days, but here’s the thing: when I feel low-grade shitty, I only want to cook sweet things, or else I want to lounge around in my bed and eat chips and watch crappy Netflix (I call this “Netflix and chonk”).
When this gets old, I need some food for real. Easy food that can be made with whatever is in the ‘fridge that’s not cold cereal, chips, gluten-free chicken tenders, or an entire cake.
So I make confetti salad.
Easy: boil two cups of water/veggie stock and add one cup rinsed quinoa and half a diced onion. Cover and cook until fluffy.
Add to a large bowl: three shredded carrots, one diced bell pepper, handful of chopped cilantro, handful of dried fruit, handful of pumpkin seeds, handful of sunflower seeds, can of chickpeas (rinsed and rained), juice of one lemon, olive oil, and black pepper. Add cooked quinoa, stir, adjust seasoning (maybe more lemon juice or olive oil), and you’re done.
Infinite variations. Add sliced snap peas. Dried fruit can be raisins, cranberries, barberries, mango, cherries. Add a thinly sliced spicy pepper. Use parsley instead of cilantro. Mix up the seeds. Add fresh, halved cherry tomatoes. Add warm grilled chicken (otherwise it’s vegan).
I eat this warm, cold, and room temperature. Throw it over greens. Whatever. Perfect for when your people are gone and you have been barefisting hunks of cake in front of the ‘fridge since they left.
“Isn’t beer the holy libation of sincerity? The potion that dispels all hypocrisy, any charade of fine manners?” ~Milan Kundera~
I have always felt like I am too much and just not enough at the same time.
Perhaps not best to be writing this on the 11th anniversary of my father’s death, the 12th anniversary of my cousin Teddy’s death, and the day I am driving to a memorial for my uncle Jim who died late last week. Oh, and the last day of my daughter’s high school career (thank god), heading towards the first big milestone her father will miss (graduation).
But there you have it. The words come when they come.
As my friend Corey’s daughter J said to her the other day, “Oh my God, mom. Your feelings. They’re so big and there are so many of them. It’s exhausting.”
It is exhausting. For not only people around me but for me as well.
The constant background understanding that I am taking up too much space.
That my highs and lows are inconvenient and need to be explained away or apologized for.
That I can’t allow these strong feelings to pass through me or be processed out loud in the presence of anyone who might conceivably be offended, so I have to remove myself from people, even when it’s the exact opposite of what I need.
That sometimes I feel crushingly lonely, and the “just not enough” part kicks in to remind me exactly how worthless and unworthy I am in the first place, so what else did I expect?
Jesus. First-world, overprivileged, white-people problems, but goddamn. They still are real to me, daily present, and require constant negotiation and mediation in a brain that is already chock-a-block full of recriminations against its owner.
I have always felt outside of things – my family, my friends, the people I work with – and I don’t expect that to go away anytime soon.
I understand that I am not for everyone. Mostly it’s ok. The people I am for are with me for life. They get it.
This past weekend Khristian and I fled to the hills of West Virginia to our friends at Redwing Farm. I have known these people for nearly three decades. They have seen me through all of my iterations – safe to say they are for me. They were hosting a sleepover for their daughter’s birthday, a previously low-key affair that swelled from two kids to eight kids and potentially 20 adults staying for dinner in the space of just a few hours. One desperate text and 12 hours later, we were cresting the wooded driveway that leads to their house, there to offer moral support and help where we could.
We meant to come back in late summer anyway, not only for the company of Luke, Keveney, and Casey but also to pick the hops that twine their way up their porch railing. It had been a hard summer for the hops; although plentiful, many of them never quite opened. Still, as we left for home less than 24 hours after we arrived, I tucked a grocery bag full of them away in the car to play with at home.
Like me, this ice cream is not for everyone. It’s an unusual mix of flavors, and care must be taken to get the balance right. The first iteration was delicious but so bitter on the finish that it was impossible to eat, but this one manages to be smooth, sweet, and creamy, with a touch of citrus and salt and a definite hoppy vibe.
Honey Hopped Ice Cream With Salted Almond Toffee
Ingredients
Honey Hopped Ice Cream
2 cups whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup fresh Cascade hops
6 egg yolks
pinch salt
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
Salted Almond Toffee
(Annoying sidebar: you need a candy thermometer for this.)
Make the ice cream: Heat milk, heavy cream, and honey in a heavy saucepan over medium heat until warm (look for small bubbles to appear around the edges of the pan). Remove from heat, add the hops, and cover. Steep for at least 20 minutes (taste. You should be able to taste the hops, but they should not make the back of your throat pucker.).
Strain hops out and return the milk to the saucepan. Bring back to a simmer (not boiling – look for the bubbles again).
Place egg yolks, lemon zest, and salt in a separate bowl and whisk well to combine.
Here is the tricky part, so go slow.
In a thin stream, gradually and slowly add the hot milk mixture to the egg, whisking vigorously. If you add it all at once you will end up with honey hopped scrambled eggs, which is truly disgusting.
Once the milk is added to the egg, place a strainer over the heavy saucepan and pour the mixture back into the saucepan. This catches any stray hop flowers (or scrambled egg).
Over low heat and stirring constantly, cook the mixture until it begins to thicken. You will know it is ready when it coats the back of a spoon (about ten minutes).
Remove from heat and strain again into a clean bowl, covering with plastic wrap that rests on the surface (so no skin forms). You can refrigerate this overnight (which Serious Eats says is best for flavor), or you can just cool it completely (about four hours) before churning according to your ice cream maker’s instructions.
Make the toffee: While your ice cream custard is chilling, make your salted almond toffee. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
Toast your almonds in a pan (or the oven) over low heat (or 350 degrees) until they begin to release their delicious, nutty aroma (between five and seven minutes, ish). Remove from pan (or oven) and allow to cool before chopping them roughly.
Place butter, sugar, water, lemon juice, and salt in a heavy saucepan over medium heat. Clip your candy thermometer to the side of the saucepan. DO NOT STIR. Swirl gently as the ingredients melt, then watch carefully as the thermometer climbs to 300 degrees. NO MORE NO LESS.
Do not wander off. You will go from barely bubbling to burnt and bitter within seconds. #AskMeHowIKnow
Once you reach that temperature, remove from heat and add your chopped toasted almonds. Work quickly to combine, then pour onto parchment paper lined cookie sheet. Spread to about 1/4″ thick (or whatever. It doesn’t really matter, but it cools faster when it’s thinner). Allow to cool completely.
Place in a sealed plastic bag and beat the toffee with a rolling pin to break it up into little bits.
PUT THAT SHIT TOGETHER: In the last five minutes of churning, add the salted almond toffee to the ice cream.
Don’t overchurn, and allow to freeze following your ice cream maker’s instructions.
The Child graduates tomorrow. Specifically, this child:
Baby Sis, couldn’t be more than three here.
She was born two weeks late, big blue eyes wide open. She had a full mop of black hair that she never lost, and from the moment she was born I was utterly in love. I had no idea.
She is a badass, a sensitive soul with an iron will. She is funny and gorgeous and loving and kind and sometimes a total PITA.
A whole lifetime ago as Yogi, with a pop-to-pop ofless than three seconds at the end of her career. She knows what that means.
She procrastinates like her mother and is stubborn like her father. She is loyal and compassionate and a very good friend to her friends.
Their last Father’s Day in 2012. She had $12, so she paid for three $1 tickets to take the family to see the Orioles beat the Atlanta Braves in Atlanta, with enough left over to buy her dad a beer.
She loved her father and was devoted to him. This is the first major milestone he will miss, and I can’t say too much about that because it’s too hard already and I have to finish this very important post.
Sicily and I have been joking about it, though, saying she is a first-generation high school graduate, which is technically true because both her father and I could not quite make it across the stage. This ridiculous joke lightens things up a bit.
Because this child loves to laugh. She is a joyful human being.
France, avec le chien.
So on this, the week of her high school graduation, I have compiled some advice. Sicily and I have an odd relationship in that when I offer her advice, sometimes she takes it.
Shocking, but true. #SmartGirl
I don’t expect this trend to continue; I fully expect her to blaze a path of her own mistakes, hopefully learning as she goes.
Some of this advice is practical; some is philosophical.
(side note: much of this applies to adults who have been out of high school for a long time. #TheMoreYouKnow)
You deserve to be here. Don’t hide your light under a bushel. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. You have been humble about your achievements, quietly going about building a tiny house, giving two TEDTalks, and living abroad in your junior year. These are the experiences that make you who you are. Own them.
Also, own your shit.
You will mess many, many things up for the whole of your life. Take responsibility. Don’t make excuses about why you fucked it up – apologize, see if you can make it right, do what you can, and try hard not to make the same mistake again. Be humble and truly apologetic, then make amends and move on.
Allow yourself to be vulnerable
You have already experienced breathtaking, devastating pain with the death of your father. It will not be the last time. This is just how things go in this one life we know about. It is a raging cliché to say that the pain is worth it, but my goodness. It totally is. Show your true self to the people who deserve to see it to get at the equally achingly beautiful parts of life.
Work hard
It’s not enough to envision your life. Go get it. Work for what you want. Yeah, sometimes it’s nice to get things handed to you, but there is value in hard, effort-filled, productive work. One of the best times of my life was working for a tree service in Colorado in August. I spent eight hours a day in 95+-degree weather, bucking downed trees and shoving them into the chipper. Every day I left the job with a salt ring at my hairline, and every night I left the bathtub with a dirt ring around the rim. Some days you have to put your head down and do it. Be grateful in your work – that you have it, and that you have the body and will to do it.
Design your own life
There is no rule that you have to buy a house, get married, have a dog, have babies, keep a full-time office job. This fits for a lot of people, but it’s not the law. You do not have to squeeze yourself into anyone’s idea of your life, not even mine. Life is crazy in that you have all the time in the world and none at all, concurrently, so make every effort to figure out what it is you want this journey to be like, then move towards that as you can. It will probably not be a straight line, and it certainly won’t be easy, but it will, in the end, be all yours. Enjoy the search – the terror, the joy, the struggle, the triumph, the failure – just as much as the finding.
Brush your goddamn teeth.
You will regret it if you don’t.
Know your worth
You deserve people who appreciate you and understand your value. I know you have that little voice in your head that sometimes says you aren’t worth it or you’re not good enough or who cares what you think. That voice has no idea what it’s talking about. Remind it, and yourself, that you are worthy, as many times as you need to, to get that voice to STFU.
Always have some cash
Speaking of worth, make sure you always have a little cash. It needn’t be much. Twenty bucks in various bills is usually good for most anything – tipping, helping someone out, getting yourself out of a place you don’t want to be, buying a meal for someone who needs it, buying a cup of lemonade from a sidewalk stand.
ALWAYS buy a cup of lemonade from a sidewalk stand
No matter how much it costs.
Get sweaty every day
I can’t believe I actually agree with Matthew McConaughey. He advocates breaking a sweat every day. Not a nervous poodle type of way, but as a move-your-body-daily type of way. This is rock solid advice from someone who may be a little more than slightly off his rocker (#Shirtless Bongos). Exercise also falls into the excellent advice provided by another slightly crazy creative person:
“The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. – Isak Dinesen”
Movement helps nearly everything that hurts.
Don’t be The Giving Tree
You know that book about the tree that gives everything to that selfish little boy who just takes and takes and never gives anything back? Yeah, don’t be that tree. That tree is loving and gives every scrap of itself to a person who has no respect and no boundaries for the tree and its basic needs for survival. Every time I read it I keep hoping in the end that the little boy/old man has some revelation about what a selfish jackass he has been, but it never happens. Giving selflessly is a beautiful thing – giving foolishly is not. Learn the difference.
Stay in touch with the people you love, even if they don’t stay in touch with you
Letters are a lost art. Send one every now and then, even if you know you won’t get one in return. Get a small pack of blank notes, and send one out to someone when the urge strikes. You would be surprised at how good this makes people feel.
Send thank you notes
Even to people who interview you for a job. Really. Take five minutes to acknowledge a gift, a small effort, someone’s time. Emails and texts don’t cut it. Just use the blank cards you bought and be sincere. We don’t express gratitude nearly enough. Make this the hill you die on – being grateful.
Have one impressive meal you can serve in a pinch
Well, it is a food blog, after all, so there has to be at least one food-related piece of advice. Feeding people should not be crazy-making. Sometimes you want to make something effortless that every single person will love, something that is so delicious that people request it when they visit. This week Aunt Karlene is in town for graduation, and she has requested “that tomato pasta” for the night they arrive.
I wish this was my recipe, but it totally is not. “That tomato pasta” comes from the original Silver Palate Cookbook, and it is my rock-solid, company’s-coming summer go-to. You mix basil, brie, olive oil, and tomatoes in a big serving bowl in the morning, and then when it’s dinner time you boil up a mess of linguine and mix them in with the basil, brie, olive oil, and tomatoes. The cheese melts, the tomatoes warm, and the basil releases its beautiful fragrance over the whole table. I use gluten-free noodles for myself, and if I am feeling ambitious I might make a gluten-free baguette. Add a huge green salad and dinner is served.
My sweetest girl, on this Monday before you move into the next phase of life: I love you. I am proud of you. Congratulations.
Linguine With Tomatoes And Basil
Ingredients
4 large ripe tomatoes, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1 pound Brie, rind removed, torn into irregular pieces
1 cup fresh basil leaves, rinsed, patted dry, and cut into strips
3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely minced
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon best-quality olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus additional to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 pounds linguine
Method
1. At least 2 hours before serving, combine the tomatoes, Brie, basil, garlic, the 1 cup olive oil, and 1/2 teaspoon each salt and pepper in a large bowl.
2. Bring 6 quarts salted water to a boil in a large pot. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil and the linguine, and boil until tender but still firm, 8-10 minutes.
3. Drain the pasta and immediately toss with the tomato sauce. Serve at once, passing the pepper mill, and the grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese if you like.
What advice do you wish you had received as a high school graduate?
