Where's the Jam?
I think I've mentioned before that my family loves jam. Loves it to the extent that we go through two pints...a week.
I'm not sure if they enjoy it so much because it's full of homemade deliciousness or because there are so many jars sitting in our cupboard begging to be devoured. Whatever the reason, they eat it on bread, on waffles, on pancakes, on crackers. They would probably eat it in a box, wearing socks and even with a fox.
But there's a problem...
You see...I have an amazing group of friends who are as addicted to canning as I am. Even better, they're amazing cooks with a spirit of culinary adventure running through their veins. While I make strawberry and sometimes get buck wild with strawberry kiwi, they're making orange ginger marmalade, pineapple jam, blueberry lime jam.
And oh how delicious it all is!
I know how wonderful these sweet concoctions taste because, when they visit or when we go to an event, they bring me a jar. A jar full of such sweet yumminess that I do the only thing I can think to protect from the Jam Locusts...
I hide it.
I secret it away in odd corners of the fridge so I can smear it on fresh bread while drinking a cup of tea.
I stash it behind applesauce in the cupboards so I can bring it out on a bad day and enjoy a luscious spoonful on my That Kind of Day ice cream.
I hoard it, refusing to even hint that we might have something special in the cupboard. I don't want to share with my husband who, while touring the Waterford Crystal factory said, "I don't get it. It's just a bunch of overpriced glass."
I know. That made me gasp in outrage too.
So...what's the point of this post? Well, this morning, while toasting my English muffin, I looked on the door of the fridge to see what jam I might add to my morning fare. There, front and center, was my jar of Sarah's blueberry-raspberry-orange jam. Soft set to perfection, I was saving it to top an angel food cake.
And the jar was...
nearly empty.
Now, I'm a glass half full kinda gal, but really, I scraped and scraped and was able to salvage one measly teaspoon of jam from the jar.
I asked Chad about it and he said...
"Oh. Joseph and I had it for breakfast."
"The whole jar?!"
"It was really good."
"How did you eat it?"
"I ate it on Saltines and Joseph dipped his sausages in it."
"What?!"
"Well, he had a waffle, but didn't eat it. He said the sausage tasted good with the jam."
Gasp and gag! I need to find a new hiding spot.
I'm not sure if they enjoy it so much because it's full of homemade deliciousness or because there are so many jars sitting in our cupboard begging to be devoured. Whatever the reason, they eat it on bread, on waffles, on pancakes, on crackers. They would probably eat it in a box, wearing socks and even with a fox.
But there's a problem...
You see...I have an amazing group of friends who are as addicted to canning as I am. Even better, they're amazing cooks with a spirit of culinary adventure running through their veins. While I make strawberry and sometimes get buck wild with strawberry kiwi, they're making orange ginger marmalade, pineapple jam, blueberry lime jam.
And oh how delicious it all is!
I know how wonderful these sweet concoctions taste because, when they visit or when we go to an event, they bring me a jar. A jar full of such sweet yumminess that I do the only thing I can think to protect from the Jam Locusts...
I hide it.
I secret it away in odd corners of the fridge so I can smear it on fresh bread while drinking a cup of tea.
I stash it behind applesauce in the cupboards so I can bring it out on a bad day and enjoy a luscious spoonful on my That Kind of Day ice cream.
I hoard it, refusing to even hint that we might have something special in the cupboard. I don't want to share with my husband who, while touring the Waterford Crystal factory said, "I don't get it. It's just a bunch of overpriced glass."
I know. That made me gasp in outrage too.
So...what's the point of this post? Well, this morning, while toasting my English muffin, I looked on the door of the fridge to see what jam I might add to my morning fare. There, front and center, was my jar of Sarah's blueberry-raspberry-orange jam. Soft set to perfection, I was saving it to top an angel food cake.
And the jar was...
nearly empty.
Now, I'm a glass half full kinda gal, but really, I scraped and scraped and was able to salvage one measly teaspoon of jam from the jar.
I asked Chad about it and he said...
"Oh. Joseph and I had it for breakfast."
"The whole jar?!"
"It was really good."
"How did you eat it?"
"I ate it on Saltines and Joseph dipped his sausages in it."
"What?!"
"Well, he had a waffle, but didn't eat it. He said the sausage tasted good with the jam."
Gasp and gag! I need to find a new hiding spot.