My North Carolina grandmother canned on the heroic scale. Long after her sons had gone to sea and my grandfather had retired from anything more taxing than cutting the deck, she continued to put up quarts and quarts of fruits and vegetables. (At that time she was only uneasy about Biblical droughts and plagues — not nuclear catastrophe.)
Every August, the household lacked only live elephants to compare for action with an Italian production of Aida. Peeling and pitting never slackened until great washtubs of peaches and plums were transformed into preserves for winter pies, jams, jellies, and my favorite of all — Brandied Peach Butter.
Peaches are ripening on nearby farms and the time is brief before they revert to their usual price — which compares roughly to the value of a hand-blown Italian glass paperweight, pound for pound.
In the supermarkets, a psychedelic crop of red, blue, yellow and purple plums from exotic places (like Florida and Italy) are going at a price that makes them feasible for jams and jellies. Should you feel inspired to make some, be sure to include greengage jam too, for it is superb and rare.
Jam-making is incredibly simple; in my grandmother’s circle, ladies who were not deft enough to piece a complicated quilt, could deflect scorn by creating delicious jams and jellies in unusual combinations of fruits and berries, wines and whiskeys.
There are recipes for both cooked and un-cooked jams and jellies with every bottle of pectin (the stuff that makes sure the fruit will “set”). The Certo people start out “Dear Jelly Maker—” but the U.S. Department of Agriculture declines such intimacy. The USDA’s pamphlet is right to the point and costs 15 cents. It is titled “Home & Garden Bulletin No. 56” and can be ordered from: Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, D. C. 20402.
Brandied Peach Butter
This isn’t as sweet or sticky as jam and is wonderful on hot buttered biscuits or toast. It makes a good ham glaze, too. If the peach butter is to be held for more than two months, it should be sealed with a thin (1/8-inch) film of melted paraffin. Makes four pints.
16 large ripe, firm peaches
3 cups sugar
3/4 cup brandy, bourbon or Calvados
1 lemon
1 stick cinnamon
You will need: Four one-pint Mason jars (the two-part screw-top ones are simplest, but the wire-bail jars are prettier); a wide-mouth funnel; a wooden spoon; a fairly heavy, shallow three or four-quart pan.
Skin peaches (drop each into boiling water about 20 seconds, remove with slotted spoon and with the point of a small, sharp knife, pull off the skins quickly); drop into cold water acidulated with the juice of 1/4 lemon to prevent the fruit darkening. Stone (cut in half and pry out the pits) and chop the peaches Cook them in their own juice about ten minutes, stirring often. Add no water.
Puree the peaches in a food mill or blender and return to pot. Stir in sugar and cinnamon stick and cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly about five minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and cook, stirring frequently, about 30 minutes longer or until a bit dropped on a cold plate holds its shape and only a fine ring of liquid forms on the perimeter.
Stir in the bourbon or brandy and cook a couple of minutes. Pour at once into clean, hot jars and seal. You get clean, hot jars by immersing them and their lids in warm water; bring it to the boiling point, turn off heat, and leave the jars, covered, in the hot water until you are ready to fill them, removing them one by one as needed. The peach butter should be about the color of a harvest moon and your ego about the same size. Canning, like bread-making, is extremely satisfying.
