The Mast-Head: Going, Going, Gone

It is strawberry time again, which means time to think about putting up some preserves from the local crop. But the way things go, South Fork strawberries are usually gone by the time I get around to pulling out the canning kettle.

Spring and the beginning of summer have a too-quick quality in this and other ways. David Kuperschmid, our new fishing columnist, said just the other day that the porgy fleet in Cherry Harbor had pulled anchor already, presumably following the bite into cooler, deeper water. I had been watching the boats from the living room window but had been unable to join them for one reason or another that  seemed so important but that I have since forgotten.

Strawberries, though, I think I can get to. All it will take is a couple of quarts, some sugar, pectin, and an hour at the stove. 

Last year, I was pretty good at canning, getting a fair number of beach-plum jelly and blackberry preserves jarred. Rummaging around on one of the kitchen shelves this morning, I noticed the last remaining summer of 2015 pickled okra behind the chocolate chips that were about to go in a child’s pancakes.

There are, in fact, so many jars of this and that tucked away that it is time to pass on a few. I proposed the general idea of a swap to my friend Jameson Ellis, in which I might bring extras and hope to exchange them for the extras of others that I do not have in my own stash. Turns out I have quite a lot, more than is reasonable for the family. But there is no strawberry. 

After a winter of eating the same two kinds of preserves, I am itching for a change. The problem is that in the run-up to July Fourth there is just too little time. Slow August days, when the beach plums are ripe, are much more suited to jelly making. Still, if I can sneak in just four jars’ worth, the effort will be worthwhile.