Introduction
Members of the tennis club may be beating on the door,
but when there’s fruit to put up Bettina will not be deterred.
“Leave ‘em till tomorrow,” entreats Alice, but clearly
our heroine finds this notion impossible. Instead, the gang quickly finds itself swathed in
aprons, plucking stones from cherries, and listening to Bettina give detailed
instruction on the proper way to can them.
It’s not clear whether the ladies received a few jars
of fruit for their labor but, given Bettina’s antiquated open kettle canning
method, the next sports outing may be indefinitely postponed by a rash of
stomach aches and other intestinal ills!
Part 1
The
Menu
Currant
Jelly
Canned
Cherries
Cherry
Pie Filling (1932 edition)
Preparing the Food
Preparing the Food
Currant
Jelly
Making jelly (something I’ve never done before in my
life) sounded daunting but, as it turned out, locating fresh currants was far
more of a challenge.
In fact, it was impossible. After a bit of research I
learned that currant bushes are prone to disease, and their cultivation is
heavily regulated in the United States and banned outright in a number of
states.
But after scouring the Internet I was able to locate a grower with currant for sale (at outrageous
prices, I might add). Alas the berries would be shipped frozen rather than
fresh—not exactly what I wanted but certainly better than trying to make jelly
from dried fruit (good luck with that!)
So for the princely sum of $35.00 I was able to
purchase three pounds. As advertised they arrived frozen thanks to chemical ice
packs, layers of plastic wrapping, and a Styrofoam case—whoever packed these
beauties for shipment certainly knew what s/he was doing!
Since I planned to delay the big jelly-making project
until the weekend the berries went straight into the freezer—hidden in the back
of course so DH and Son wouldn’t happen upon and sample them.
Come Saturday it was time to study the recipe in
detail—and that’s where I hit the first snag.
Bettina’s recipe measures the ingredients in quarts
and cups, and I had a devil of a time converting all that into the metric
measurements stamped on the bags of currants. And it didn’t help that I had
fewer currants than the recipe called for and would have to cut Bettina’s
recipe down to size.
Some
of my torturous calculations.
But once I got past that hurdle the jelly-making
technique outlined by the recipe seemed surprisingly straightforward. Certainly
the ingredients were basic: currants and sugar. Period.
Time to give it a try (Lord help my stove top if
something goes wrong!)
Draining
the currants.
Heating
up the sugar in the oven—not sure why, but it’s is supposed to be warm when added to the
currant juice.
“Mash
a few [currants] with a vegetable masher in the bottom of a porcelain-lined or
granite kettle. Add more currants and mash.”
The next step was to heat the mashed berries to the
boiling point and cook them “until the currants appear white”.
Another problem. Although the recipe didn’t specify I
was almost certain Bettina used black currants, and these were simply
unavailable—fresh, frozen, or otherwise. And I was equally certain the red
currants I was forced to purchase instead could boil til hell froze over
without ever changing color.
Another Internet search. Fortunately I found a very
good recipe for red currant jelly on Allrecipes.com and, reading over its
instructions, was able to determine that the mashed currants should be boiled
for ten minutes (thanks, JBORSODY!)
Time
to separate the juice from the pulp—first the currents are to be put through “a
coarse strainer”.
Now
to strain again--fortunately I have a workable substitute for Bettina’s
flannel/felt jelly bag.
Reusable mesh bags meant for storing produce in the refrigerator.
Drip,
drip…this is a very slow process. The temptation to speed things along by giving
the jelly bag a squeeze or two was almost overwhelming. Fortunately I knew
better (squeezing the pulp makes for cloudy jelly).
A
lot of pulp for such a small amount of juice (2¼ cups). I wish there was
something I could make with it, but nothing comes to mind.
Juice
in the pot, pulp in the trash.
After
boiling the juice for ten minutes I began adding the heated sugar—2 ¼ cups,
exactly how much juice I had to work with.
Normally I’d have been a little dismayed that the
recipe called for so much sugar, but by this time I’d tasted the currants in
their natural state and was shocked by their sour power—two+ cups of sugar
might not even be enough!
After the juice and sugar had boiled for some time I
began testing it with my candy thermometer. But, to make doubly certain the
stuff was neither over- nor underdone, I also used the old-fashioned sheeting
test: let some of the syrup drip off a teaspoon—if it comes off in sheets it’s
finished.
As the jelly was to be stored in the refrigerator I
didn’t bother to sterilize the jars, lids, or utensils. I did, however, put the
jar to be filled in a pan of simmering water (as Bettina suggests). This isn’t
meant to sterilize them, of course, but rather to keep the jar(s) from cracking
as the hot jelly is poured in.
Looks
so perfect I’m almost afraid to taste it!
Canned
Cherries
Compared to the jelly this recipe should have been a
breeze. Unfortunately, I had exactly the same trouble: a complete lack of
fruit--in this case because cherry season was long past. Fresh cherries were
simply not available, so I had no choice but to use frozen. I also cut
Bettina’s recipe down to a single jar.
As
with the jelly, the list of ingredients is simple: fruit, sugar, and water.
Mix
the sugar with the water and heat the mixture up.
Then
add the cherries.
These
things are huge—easily the largest cherries I’ve ever seen!
Now
bring the mixture to a boil and cook for ten minutes.
Once again this stuff’s ultimate resting place is the
refrigerator, so there was no need to sterilize the jars or equipment.
But
I did heat the jar in simmering water before filling them.
And,
as I had a funnel on hand, I got the cherry juice into the jar with minimal
mess (the cherries I just spooned from pot to jar)
Well,
these look like bottled cherries…
Cherry
Pie Filling
It would have been logical to use the above bottled
cherries for the pie, but Bettina calls for fresh—and those were certainly not
available. Frozen cherries of course were—but I knew from experience that
frozen sweet Bings from the supermarket don’t make a very good pie.
Hence—
bottled
sour cherries (product of Germany).
As
the cherries were bottled in a very light syrup they require a lot of draining.
Flour
and lard for the pie crust—this certainly isn’t for carb-counters!
Salt
Ye
Olde Pastry Cutter—low-tech, but possibly my favorite kitchen gadget.
I
covered this wooden board with parchment paper to roll out the crust on.
Happily
I found a good website (sallysbakingaddiction.com) with explicit directions for
making pie crust and (best of all) pictures showing what the crust is supposed
to look like at each stage.
Sally
says to cut the fat into the flour thoroughly but not to worry if a few larger
clumps remain. Thank you, Sally, for not requiring me to pulverize the stuff!
Now
for the cold water…
…and
stir.
Am
I really going to be able to get this together into a ball?
Anything
is possible. 😊
The
ball of dough cut in half—each hemisphere should be enough to make a single
crust.
Patch
time...grr.
This
isn’t going well…
Cherries
mixed with flour, sugar, lemon juice, and nutmeg...
...and butter. Holy cow, am I supposed to dump the cube on top and just seal the pie
up? (Bettina doesn’t say)
OK,
this works.
The
second crust looks even more pitiful than the first ☹
Managed
though to get it more or less into shape.
Brushing
the top crust with milk to help it brown.
And
foil around the edges to keep them from getting too brown.
And into the oven.
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