Crabapple Jelly

12th March

The windows in Edward’s recently vacated room, I love. A wide central pane of glass sits above a deep ledge of dark wood, flanked on either side by large, long windows that push outward with a satisfying whoomp. Fresh air consequently flows through the often stale front half of the house. Reading MFK Fisher’s Gastronomical Me at the desk beneath it, recalling the ‘short but violently active cannings’ that punctuated her childhood summers, I realise that it is mid-way through March and I’ve done nothing about the fruit trees. The crabapple is heaving. Soft rain distracts me long enough to lose my place and push the book away in order to enjoy a rare, quiet patter. The music the damp magpies make, singing joyfully across the street, is a rare sort of lovely itself.



13th of March    

The crabapples really do need dealing with. Maggie Beer is, naturally, a crabapple champion providing a whole three recipes yet they barely rate even a mention in Grigson’s much-lauded Fruit Book. This surprises me a great deal, though, on second thought, I’m not surprised one bit. Strangely, I find both Grigson classics unusable. Day-Lewis offers a jelly introduced in her typically poetic way which seals the jelly-making deal. ‘A sprig of lemon peel at the summit of each jar is a kind of elegant closure’. Suddenly I wish the lemons hadn’t been starved of juice by whatever insect infected her branches before we arrived. I start a mental list, fantasizing about an orchard of quinces, orange trees and the vicious but stunning Meyer lemon from our last place. Crabapples join that list now and I wonder what a medlar tastes like. Think I want one of those for my imaginary orchard, too. 

14th March

Proper rain. Puddles and pools and grey sky as far as the eye can see. Undeterred, I don a waterproof jacket, roll up my pants and shove a hat on my head to pick 1 ½ kilos of crabapples quick as a flash. As Shula wisely counseled, anything less than jelly is a waste. Ganga’s version adds pomegranate and rosebuds to the mix and, in their absence, I decide to sub in pomegranate molasses and rosewater. It will smell delicious.     

15th March

Sunday. A good sleep means I’m up early, baking bread. Actually, it was the promise of a bowl of pink juice to play with that stirred me. And pink it is; the palest shade of barely-there. Measuring, stirring, skimming. A useful way to spend a wet weekend. An hour later, ladling amber-coloured liquid through a funnel into sparklingly clean jars, I try not to think about just how much sugar was used. Tasting is the only answer to this dilemma.

It is delicious.

Crabapple Jelly

Your quantity of fruit may be small or huge, so giving a precise quantity of fruit matters little. Your haul will be what it will be. You will need quite a lot of sugar though, so bear that in mind and shop accordingly. When you see a line of jars glowing prettily, all will be worth it, I promise. Give some away, I say. No need to be greedy.

Wash the fruit well and drain. Discard any leaves, but keep the stalks on if you like. Bruises and windfalls should not be thrown out, though any bug-eaten fruit should. Put into a large saucepan or stock pot and pour over enough water to just cover. Bring to a boil and simmer slowly until the fruit is softened to a pulp. Cool before straining the juice through a muslin-lined sieve (or two) which you suspend over a large bowl (or two). Leave to drip, drip, drip overnight and do not, under any circumstance, be tempted to force or squeeze the fruit through. Slow and steady will set you right.

Next day measure the juice you’ve collected. For every 600ml (1 pint) you will need 450g (1 lb) of sugar, 1 teaspoon of pomegranate molasses and another of rosewater. Mix together and bring to a good boil. Skim off the grey-ish foam that rises to the rolling surface. Place a saucer in the freezer for set-testing. After 10 minutes, take a teaspoon of the mixture and place it on the cold saucer. Pop it back into the freezer for a couple of minutes. If the liquid wrinkles when you gently push it, the jelly is set. If not, keep going and checking until it does. 

Sterilise your jars and their lids while all of this is happening.

When ready, ladle through a funnel into the prepped jars and seal immediately. 

 

A seasonal treat for Maninas' event, Eating with the Seasons. 

Comments

[another outspoken female]

am salivating as I read :)

[Lucy]

I've a jar with your name on it, AOF.

[Ganga]

You have me longing for winter, with your wonderful descriptions. I am hanging on to the threads of summer here. The leaves are turning outside my window, but it is still warm - 30C tomorrow! Soon, tho, I will need to let go of summer and allow Autumn to arrive. It is the best time of year in Adelaide.

You jelly looks amazing.

[Din]

What beautiful looking jelly!

Found medlars last year at the Collingwood Children's farm market, some time in autumn. They take a bit of courage to eat raw, but do make lovely jelly.

[holler]

That jelly is so jewel-like. Absolutely gorgeous. I especially like the way the light shines through the jelly.

Nice labels :)

[Free]

I just LOVE your blog

[Ricki]

Fabulous post, Lucy. And look at that jelly! As a child, I was told that crabapples were toxic. We kids wouldn't go near them (and, as I recall, neither would anyone else). But your post makes me yearn for some now!

[Christina]

Good thing one of the first fruit trees I planted here is a crabapple.

Now I just have to wait a couple years.

[Lucy]

Ganga - it sounds heavenly in your part of 'Straya right now. Even I must admit to loving the warmth. So much better than last month's horror heat.

Thank you, Din! I am on the lookout, now. Good old Collingwood Market. I knew one of you lovely people would know...

Holler - thanks! They glitter on the windowsill.

Free - hi, and thanks!

Ricki - no poisoning going on here, but boy, are they sour straight off the tree. I wish you bucketloads.

Oh, Christina! I wish I could send you a jar - it's just about the prettiest thing I've ever made. Have you ever seen a medlar? Might be worth a thought for your garden, too. Medieval and Ugly - brutally so - but, I am told, makes for delicious eating once 'bletted'. Don't you just love the word 'bletted'? I want one just so as I can 'blet'.

[Wendy]

Love how beautifully you've caught the colour of the jam. I tried making some a couple of years ago but it was disappointingly pale.

And totally agree on the Grigson books. I just can't be inspired by them.

[docwitch]

Damn! That jelly! That bread!

So...pretty with all that rosy pink isn't it? I love the sound of pomegranate molasses in there.

Crabapples are such a romantic kind of fruit, (I get strange looks when I say that, but they are).

[Johanna]

looks lovely - my mum makes her own quince jelly and always checks how clear jars are which she sees for sale in boutique shops - she would approve of yours!

[umm bilal]

Another delectable treat you have enticed this far away from home Ozzie with...so I sit and feast on your fantastic pictures and allow the inner screen to replay old vignettes of such crabapply jelly times gone by. It looks like a magical golden elixir! Yum

[rachel]

I loved reading this post.
The colour of your jelly is magical.
I feel the same way about jane grigson's fruit book (and vegetable book for that matter.) I love to read it and am always inspired and captured by her writing but find it rather frustrating to use and more often than not, after finding inspiration within her pages I turn elsewhere for the actual recipe.
Did I say I loved this post.

[Ali-K]

Do you know, the jelly sounds delicious but I almost love the labels you must've made more.

[Callipygia]

So sweet to traipse along beside you on your jelly making journey- and land with bread and gelled fruit in hand.

[Maninas]

I love the diary-style of this post, and how it shows your thinking process.

Crabapples are so pretty.

Thanks for the great entry.

[Kate James]

Thanks for finding me and reminding me of your beautiful blog Lucy. How lovely to know that we walk the same path along the beach!

I haven't had crabapple jelly for years. It sounds especially beautiful with the pomegranate molasses and rosewater.

Time for me to dust off the jam jars I think...

[reddoorread]

yum. is that jelly getting it on with a hot cross bun?

i bought some homemade rose hip jam this weekend and it is divine.

[Anna]

This is my first time on your blog and I am so impressed with the gorgeous photography and beautiful writing. I am so glad I found it!

[Lucy]

Wendy: I found that by cooking it just a fraction longer than I deemed sensible, the colour improved dramatically. Yeah, Grigson...meh...

Docwitch: They ARE romantic fruit. Old-fashioned and pretty and out of favour. That's why they're so divine!

Johanna: That makes me very happy!

Umm: I shall send a jar (virtually) your way. Well, if I could, that is.

Rachel: Thankyou and yes, I think I like the idea of Grigson more than the books themselves. Oddly enough I own an early 1970's paperback (courtesy of my mum) of Good Things and that is vastly superior. P'raps it's 'cos it was a compliation of columns. Who knows? Glad I'm not alone...

Ali-K: Thanks, darls! All down to the beauty of brown paper tape. Not so stable in the cool, damp fridge, I'm finding.

Calli: And what a romp it was. Much fun had by all. Especially my bloke who rigged a magnificent system of drippage involving muslin, garden string and an upended stool.

Maninas: Looking forward to your delicious round-up.

Kate: Yes! Get 'em out and get preserving, I say. 'Tis the sesaon 'n all that.

reddoorread: The jelly's getting in on with a slice 'o pear and raisin loaf which, now I think about it, is much like an un-yeasted hot cross bun. Goodness. It's very nearly Easter...

Anna: Hello and welcome. I'm glad you did, too!

[chelsea]

Almost electric, the way that jelly glows.

Quite nice indeed.

I'm thinking rhubarb jam over here soon, though I wonder if the color will be too murky - any suggestions?

[shula]

Oh, God.....

[shula]

ps. maggie reckons not to worry about sterilising the lids if you're working with sugar, as long as the lids are nice and clean, and without any rust or breaks. Once you've bottled the jam, you just tip them upside down for a few minutes and the heat of the jam (160c) will sterilise them for you.

it's working for me.

[Lillian]

I stumbled onto this blog weeks ago, looking for recipes for kohlrabi. (It was winter here in the 'States and kohlrabi was one of few things kicking around the farmer's market.) I'm not a very adventurous eater, but I love *reading* about food, and I absolutely loved the pictures, so I bookmarked.

Now here I sit with a little spare time - I have two small children and I'm a full-time student so that's not very often - and I come back to find this entry!

My grandmother, a farmer's wife from back in the day, used to fill shelf after shelf with all kinds of jellies and preserves, crabapple being one of my favorites (from her very own tree, of course). I've been on a mission to find good crabapple jelly for years.

I found it once at a church sale over a decade ago, and sadly only bought a small jar and never found it again. Found some once more, but it wasn't as good - too sweet, not tart enough. You can't find it in the grocery store, and people who make their own jellies and jams for sale at farmer's markets and craft fairs seem not to make it. ("Jellies are considered a cheaper product, and we don't make very many," sniffed one woman.)

Maybe - maybe it's time for me to think about making some myself. You make it sound, if not exactly easy, at least doable. I've never canned anything, and I don't have my own crabapple tree, but maybe it's time to start a different kind of search.