No, I'm not referring to mercury in retrograde. Let me explain. I'll start at the beginning.
On Thursday morning, H sent me this photo with the question, "Do you want mulberries?"
Well, not only can I not remember when I last had a mulberry, but Friday's kitchen agenda was unusually light.
My reply, unsurprisingly,
Yes, I can liberate you of mulberries! Thank you!
They duly arrived and I stashed them safely in the fridge overnight. Would it be jam, would it be chutney? H had the casting vote. She and T both have a sweet tooth. Besides, I have a market for "unusual" jams. Their preference sealed the deal - for this batch, anyway.
I did some homework: jammin' with berries is different. Not all berries are made equal. Nor for that matter, are all jams. After doing my homework, I decided that the jam would be mulberry. Nothing but. Not adulterated by apple or any other fruit. Even for the pectin.
So my (Fri)day began with washing the mulberries.
Tempted as I was, I resisted eating any more than a couple, and set about turning them into jam after they'd been washed.
I decided on just three ingredients: mulberries - of course - sugar and lemon. You need the lemon for the pectin and also for the acid which helps to cut through the sweet.
I loved how the golden zest showed up the deep-black purple of the mulberries.
Underneath that heap, was the sugar.
With no water, and just fruit, one has to literally watch the pot. As it heats, the sugar melts, and if you don't watch it carefully, it can catch at the bottom of the pot.
You need to keep an eye on it and keep stirring things up so that they don't stick. Then, you can turn your back.
But.
Not for long. The mixture not only came to the boil quickly, but boiled over the instant I took my eye off it.
Happily I caught it before there was any real spillage, but there was a mulberry mess, nevertheless.
That suggested to me that it would "jam" quickly, so I stuck the sugar thermometer into the mixture and began watching and testing.
Then I noticed that the thermometer was all misted up. My first thought was that it had, somehow, "gone under water". I'd learned - the hard way - that it couldn't. After I'd washed it in the dishwasher. I figured that the mist would lift as the thermometer warmed.
It didn't, so I fished it out.
It was an ex-thermometer. Somehow, it had broken. Exploding mercury. Or something....like Mercury back in retrograde...just for me.
All that glorious fruit and syrup ended up on the compost heap. I could not even think about mercury contamination let alone search through that hot mess for shards of glass I was unlikely to find.
It did make me think, though, of that iconic song from Annie Lennox.
H says I'll get more next time they harvest. And I replaced the broken glass thermometer. Smartly.
Update will probably follow. When I've successfully made a batch of marvellous mulberry jam.
Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:
- re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine....?
- and "re-capturing" nearly two years' worth of posts.
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- Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers' community.
Original artwork:
- lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs, images available freely available on
and Canva. ss