TO SQUEEZE OR NOT TO SQUEEZE.

 

Yes I know, one should never read the side effect of medication, but this stuff was potent, even the list of very common effects was long. So perhaps today wasn’t the best day to make black currant jelly. It had to be done though as I had everything prepared the previous evening, and all I had to do was transfer the big bowl of juice into the pan and add sugar. I’d fired up the Rayburn, washed all the jam jars and everything looked good, even if my brain felt like I was swimming through porridge.

To squeeze or not to squeeze that is the question, whether it is acceptable to lay hands on the old bag or whether it be more acceptable to leave all to gravity when in search of perfection in the making of jelly. Personally I willingly sacrifice perfection for a couple more jars of blackcurrant jelly, and anyway who will notice the clarity when the jelly in the jar is such a deep shade of purple black. I use a mix of black and white currants, which gives the same strong colour, but when spread looks more like a rich redcurrant jelly.

Maybe on reflection I shouldn’t have turned my back on the stove and started the hard Sudoku, but at the first hiss I was off my chair and whisked the pan over towards the sink. The juice rose furiously over the brim, dribbling all the way to the sink, while more fizzed and bubbled furiously on the stove. As I mopped it up, steam rose and the kitchen filled with the smell of burnt jam. Jelly juice seemed to everywhere; floor and furniture, even my shoes. All cleaned up I set the pan back on the stove and kept a closer eye on the rolling boil. The setting point achieved, I lined up the now very hot jars on the table. My jam pan has a pouring spout, swing handle and a side handle so why not use them. The pan was over half full and I thought to start with the largest jar with the widest opening made sense. It went everywhere and like a fool I wiped the spout and had a second go. Disastrous, and so I turned to a ladle, but by now there was sticky hot liquid all over the table, on the floor, down my trousers and on my shoes. There was now a direct correlation with the steadiness of my hand and my impatience, which meant more spillage. There is no way back one just has to carry on even if the idea of keeping calm is no longer relevant. It took me a good quarter of an hour to mop everything down including myself, and

I see now that the hot spilt jelly has partially removed the polish from the end of the kitchen table. Well that’s easily solved but black currant juice is worse than blood or red wine, far stickier when mixed with added sugar. In the end I had eleven jars lined up to cool and the spillage would not have made it a round dozen. The mix was half and half black and white currants, and although that still gives a strong black colour in the jar, when spread it is more like red currant. I’ve had to net most of the bushes but have noticed in previous years that blackbirds tend to ignore the white currant, almost as if they don’t see them. It’s been a bumper harvest and there are still several later ripening bushes to pick. Sure I will never eat all that, but then it’s always useful to have a stock of produce in the ladder for exchange and gifts.