It's Wednesday already? Time flies!
Speaking of time, one place I do not like to spend much time in the summer is the kitchen. This week's edition of "Works For Me Wednesday", hosted by Rocks In My Dryer, tells me that I'm not alone in that. We've been asked to share recipes with five ingredients or less. Finding one that actually has five ingredients or less was tough... unless you count cereal, which none of YOU would ever serve for dinner, right? Or fruit smoothies, or eggs, or leftovers...
One easy thing I do: Throw some boneless, skinless chicken breasts into a crock pot with pre-made barbecue sauce in the morning. If you have an extra moment, browning the chicken with a bit of flour first can help the chicken to stay moist and flavorful. Serve on buns as chicken sandwiches with fruit, salad, chips, or whatever you have on hand.
But I'll bet you've thought of that one already.
Here's one we fall back on a lot, year-round. There are technically seven ingredients, but I promise that it's easy because it's a recipe for which measuring is totally optional. It's forgiving.
Lasagna Soup
The name comes from the pasta used: mafalda, found in the dried pasta section of most grocery stores. It looks like mini lasagna noodles. It’s not crucial to have that exact shape of pasta, but, of course, the name of the recipe won’t make sense without them!
One recipe is not enough for the 6 of us if I serve it as dinner by itself, but it is fine if served with bread, salad, etc. I generally double these days-- those boys are growing!
For just one recipe:
–Brown a pound of ground beef.
–Sprinkle generously with some form of quick onions (onion powder, dried minced onions, whatever you have) and a quick shake of salt.
– Throw in a little dried basil, maybe 1/2 teaspoon.
– Add a can (14.5 oz size) of *Italian seasoned* diced tomatoes.
– Add somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 cups of beef broth.
– Add mafalda. You choose how much. If you add a smaller amount of the pasta, it will truly be soup. If you add a lot of pasta, it will absorb much of the broth and be more of a noodle dish.
–Boil about 10 minutes, until pasta is cooked.
– Serve with a generous sprinkle of parmesan cheese (for those not casein free at our house!).
It's very quick. Like many pasta dishes, it's even betterthe next day, too!
Everyone likes this at my house, which is a miracle. I don’t feel the need to serve anything else with this if it's "one of those days" and I don’t have the energy. Ya got yer' vegetable (They say that tomatoes are a fruit, but they seem quite vegetable-y to me.) meat, starch, and dairy. By the old food group guidelines, you’re covered in one bowl!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
If You Give a Mom a Cabinet
Have you ever noticed how remodeling, organizing, and cleaning projects rarely stay neatly within their own borders? One thing often leads to another.
Re-organize one area, displace some items which need to go somewhere else, re-organize that someplace else, displace more items...
Tackle a cleaning job , notice the dirty area under it, clean it and discover major grime in the area next to that...
Attempt to remodel one thing and suddenly realize that the things surrounding it no longer match or look very worn by comparison. And one room flows into another, you know...
These projects can have a way of flowing and spreading until you're engulfed by an ocean that you never even saw on the map! That's where I've been lately. I've been paddling furiously on a raft in the middle of an ocean of all three project varieties. S.O.S.!
If I ever reach shore, I'd love to share with you the very special story of our adoption. Amazingly, I've never written it down in its entirety. It is something that I have promised myself I will do before becoming totally embroiled in planning and launching the new school year, so you'll either soon read the story, or read of my arrest for child neglect. Stay tuned!
That is all.
Unless you are further interested in my project ocean. If you are not, please, I beg of you, read no further. Save yourself!
Our house does not have the best physical arrangement for our family or homeschooling, and it's added some extra stress to the daily mix. You name it, I've tried it. This spring, the situation deteriorated sharply when Boy #2's full drum kit moved in, displacing homeschool materials from the third floor into a gigantic heap in my dining room. I wracked my brain for an inexpensive, creative, still attractive solution for school, and came up with nothing. (I'm kind of known for creative organization, so that's saying something.)
Meanwhile, like every other area in our 108 year old house, our little kitchen has its own issues. One is that there has never been enough room in the kitchen to actually store the dishes. They've been living around the corner in the dining room. There's a space under the kitchen counter with two bar stools for my four children, also not exactly fulfilling our needs. So why not purchase a cabinet for that area under the counter, finally bring the dishes into their rightful kitchen homeland, and then organize those homeschool materials in the dining room cabinet? We'll do it! Hooray! I'll soon be down to the business of organizing and planning life and school. A little expensive, but very practical, quick and easy, right?
No, no, nooo...
Because the configuration of the cabinet means that this will fit best here, and that there, and now where should those go, and that really needs to be re-organized, too...
Because we can't relocate things into dirty cabinets, in a dirty kitchen, in a dirty house...
And because I'll need to pick up some handles for the new cabinet! And why would we search out shiny gold tone handles to match the 1980's knobs we have in the rest of the kitchen, when we like fashionable antique bronze?! Of course we'll have to replace the rest of the kitchen knobs, but knobs are a simple, inexpensive little update, right? It IS probably a good time to replace those breaking door knobs, too-- antique bronze, of course. Which will really make the shiny gold switch plates look out of place... And, well, hey, while we're at it, let's get rid of those tacky gold light fixtures, too... Oooh my, how those new lights really illuminate how badly the kitchen ceiling needs to be refinished! And I'm not even going to mention how that doorknob shows on exterior of the house, too, where there's a shiny gold kick plate and a boatload of interdependent work to be done, from tarnished light fixtures, to siding, to... to where?
I do believe that if time and money were no object, the logical endpoint of this might not be found until we had replaced our house entirely... with a brand new one... in Hawaii... with new cabinets... which will need handles...
Somebody. Please. Save me from myself.
Re-organize one area, displace some items which need to go somewhere else, re-organize that someplace else, displace more items...
Tackle a cleaning job , notice the dirty area under it, clean it and discover major grime in the area next to that...
Attempt to remodel one thing and suddenly realize that the things surrounding it no longer match or look very worn by comparison. And one room flows into another, you know...
These projects can have a way of flowing and spreading until you're engulfed by an ocean that you never even saw on the map! That's where I've been lately. I've been paddling furiously on a raft in the middle of an ocean of all three project varieties. S.O.S.!
If I ever reach shore, I'd love to share with you the very special story of our adoption. Amazingly, I've never written it down in its entirety. It is something that I have promised myself I will do before becoming totally embroiled in planning and launching the new school year, so you'll either soon read the story, or read of my arrest for child neglect. Stay tuned!
That is all.
Unless you are further interested in my project ocean. If you are not, please, I beg of you, read no further. Save yourself!
Our house does not have the best physical arrangement for our family or homeschooling, and it's added some extra stress to the daily mix. You name it, I've tried it. This spring, the situation deteriorated sharply when Boy #2's full drum kit moved in, displacing homeschool materials from the third floor into a gigantic heap in my dining room. I wracked my brain for an inexpensive, creative, still attractive solution for school, and came up with nothing. (I'm kind of known for creative organization, so that's saying something.)
Meanwhile, like every other area in our 108 year old house, our little kitchen has its own issues. One is that there has never been enough room in the kitchen to actually store the dishes. They've been living around the corner in the dining room. There's a space under the kitchen counter with two bar stools for my four children, also not exactly fulfilling our needs. So why not purchase a cabinet for that area under the counter, finally bring the dishes into their rightful kitchen homeland, and then organize those homeschool materials in the dining room cabinet? We'll do it! Hooray! I'll soon be down to the business of organizing and planning life and school. A little expensive, but very practical, quick and easy, right?
No, no, nooo...
Because the configuration of the cabinet means that this will fit best here, and that there, and now where should those go, and that really needs to be re-organized, too...
Because we can't relocate things into dirty cabinets, in a dirty kitchen, in a dirty house...
And because I'll need to pick up some handles for the new cabinet! And why would we search out shiny gold tone handles to match the 1980's knobs we have in the rest of the kitchen, when we like fashionable antique bronze?! Of course we'll have to replace the rest of the kitchen knobs, but knobs are a simple, inexpensive little update, right? It IS probably a good time to replace those breaking door knobs, too-- antique bronze, of course. Which will really make the shiny gold switch plates look out of place... And, well, hey, while we're at it, let's get rid of those tacky gold light fixtures, too... Oooh my, how those new lights really illuminate how badly the kitchen ceiling needs to be refinished! And I'm not even going to mention how that doorknob shows on exterior of the house, too, where there's a shiny gold kick plate and a boatload of interdependent work to be done, from tarnished light fixtures, to siding, to... to where?
I do believe that if time and money were no object, the logical endpoint of this might not be found until we had replaced our house entirely... with a brand new one... in Hawaii... with new cabinets... which will need handles...
Somebody. Please. Save me from myself.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Bless a Boy
Recently I shared the story of our One Hit Wonder on the baseball field. Please read the story if you haven't already. (I mean now. Spoiler ahead!)
Read it yet?
Last warning. I'm going to totally spoil it now, and assume you know what I'm talking about.
OK, so after those boys flooded onto the baseball field, the coach said that he didn't think he could have stemmed the tide if he wanted to! Their joyful reaction was sponataneous and sincere. They were simply thrilled for their teammate's success, regardless of the fact that it didn't advance the score one bit. I have to give a lot of credit for this to the coaches' focused efforts to build a loving atmosphere of respect on the team. With just a few weeks of practices and games, just look at what was wrought! It was not just my son who benefitted in that situation, either. Practice in compassion and getting along with different people always reaps benefit, don't you think?
Last month another adult made the news for the way she used her power to shape the minds and character of young people in her charge, only this time they were impressionable kindergarteners... and the power was not used well. Kindergarten teacher Wendy Portillo was frustrated with Alex Barton, a child in her class who was in the process of being diagnosed with autism*. This is what she thought would be helpful: She encouraged each student to tell 5-year-old Alex what they did not like about him, and then led them to "vote" Alex out of class. Not only am I heartbroken for what happened to Alex in this atmosphere, but also for the children in his class. What a horrible lesson has been foisted upon them.
You can read more about Alex at Mommy Life, where Barbara has followed his story. Just search his name in her archives for more. More importantly, though, would you consider taking part in the "Alex is Special" effort she has organized to send love to this child? People from all over the world have showered this boy with cards affirming him. I'm a bit late to the party in spreading the word, but still did not want to neglect the opportunity. Barbara is collecting mail for Alex and forwarding it to him. She has been posting pictures of Alex opening his cards with updates from his mom.
While we're on the topic, think about the environments your children spend time in. What lessons are they learning about how to perceive and treat people who are different from them in ability, appearance or behaviors?
UPDATED TO ADD: Barbara has already sent her last care package to Alex. There will probably be more news of this case, though, as they are taking it to federal court.
* It's not my intent to discuss classroom inclusion here and now, but please do note that this child was only in the process of diagnosis. It does not sound likely that appropriate supports were in place.
Read it yet?
Last warning. I'm going to totally spoil it now, and assume you know what I'm talking about.
OK, so after those boys flooded onto the baseball field, the coach said that he didn't think he could have stemmed the tide if he wanted to! Their joyful reaction was sponataneous and sincere. They were simply thrilled for their teammate's success, regardless of the fact that it didn't advance the score one bit. I have to give a lot of credit for this to the coaches' focused efforts to build a loving atmosphere of respect on the team. With just a few weeks of practices and games, just look at what was wrought! It was not just my son who benefitted in that situation, either. Practice in compassion and getting along with different people always reaps benefit, don't you think?
Last month another adult made the news for the way she used her power to shape the minds and character of young people in her charge, only this time they were impressionable kindergarteners... and the power was not used well. Kindergarten teacher Wendy Portillo was frustrated with Alex Barton, a child in her class who was in the process of being diagnosed with autism*. This is what she thought would be helpful: She encouraged each student to tell 5-year-old Alex what they did not like about him, and then led them to "vote" Alex out of class. Not only am I heartbroken for what happened to Alex in this atmosphere, but also for the children in his class. What a horrible lesson has been foisted upon them.
You can read more about Alex at Mommy Life, where Barbara has followed his story. Just search his name in her archives for more. More importantly, though, would you consider taking part in the "Alex is Special" effort she has organized to send love to this child? People from all over the world have showered this boy with cards affirming him. I'm a bit late to the party in spreading the word, but still did not want to neglect the opportunity. Barbara is collecting mail for Alex and forwarding it to him. She has been posting pictures of Alex opening his cards with updates from his mom.
While we're on the topic, think about the environments your children spend time in. What lessons are they learning about how to perceive and treat people who are different from them in ability, appearance or behaviors?
UPDATED TO ADD: Barbara has already sent her last care package to Alex. There will probably be more news of this case, though, as they are taking it to federal court.
* It's not my intent to discuss classroom inclusion here and now, but please do note that this child was only in the process of diagnosis. It does not sound likely that appropriate supports were in place.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Just the Girls
Little man #3's life got even better yesterday. The camp my big boys are attending also has a separate, concurrent camp at the end of the week, in which kids ages 5 - 7 can come to camp for two nights with a parent, just to give it a try.
He's just old enough this year, and he was very excited to be signed up. "Very excited" doesn't even begin to cover it, really. In a Mommy mental lapse, I forgot about how slowly time moves when you're five, and I told him the moment I registered him... in April. Yes, I did. Someone may need to take away my parenting license, because that wait was torture for him!
By Tuesday, with the big boys already gone, he was so desperate for his camp day to come that he begged me to just MAKE it Thursday already. Today. I said no-can-do, of course, but I did negotiate it down to me making it happen the day after tomorrow. I kept my word on the deal, and yesterday was indeed Thursday. Off he went proudly with just his Daddy, with pomp and circumstance fit for a king embarking on a great journey. Not to mention six bazillion kisses and hugs. And his blankie, tucked into the suitcase, just in case.
So that leaves just us, the two girls. Girl time! I've been striving this week to squeeze in some spring cleaning (I know, I know... It's summer already...), but I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to take some special time with just my little girl. At her request, yesterday we painted her toenails pink and went out to eat. A local 99-cent kids' meal special made her a cheap date! Today, we snuggled in bed, then decorated and fancied up the whole house. Her whole doll house, that is.
Through the generous cooperation of grandparents, she received a giant Ryan's Room doll house for Christmas a couple of years ago. It's made of unstained, sturdy wood. A blank canvas for the imagination, at least in the estimation of we adults who buy such things. She has enjoyed it very much. It has not escaped her fancy soul's notice, however, that there are other doll houses in existence with considerably more fancy, girly, fairy princess purple-and-pinkaliciousness going for them. She has never made a big fuss about acquiring such a fine model for herself, but she has obviously taken wistful note.
One day I casually threw out the idea that perhaps we could fancy-up her doll house a bit with some paint, paper and "accessories" (an understood nod toward her current literary hero, Fancy Nancy). Buried longings tapped, that little girl flew to me with such speed and force that she nearly knocked me over. She seized both of my shoulders, looked directly into my eyes, and said with solemn, yet fiery earnestness, "Yes. Yes, I want to do that! Can we do it NOW?!?" No, not now. "TODAY?!?" No, not today. I don't even have the accessories yet. Let's do it when all of your brothers are at camp. "Is that TODAY?!" No...
Chalk up another Mommy mental lapse. I caused her no small amount of mental anguish by sharing such a thrilling idea a bit too soon. But after today's flurry of "wallpapering" with scrapbooking paper, cutting new little bedspreads, towels, rugs and placemats from fabric, and even letting her paint her own paper rug, this...
He's just old enough this year, and he was very excited to be signed up. "Very excited" doesn't even begin to cover it, really. In a Mommy mental lapse, I forgot about how slowly time moves when you're five, and I told him the moment I registered him... in April. Yes, I did. Someone may need to take away my parenting license, because that wait was torture for him!
By Tuesday, with the big boys already gone, he was so desperate for his camp day to come that he begged me to just MAKE it Thursday already. Today. I said no-can-do, of course, but I did negotiate it down to me making it happen the day after tomorrow. I kept my word on the deal, and yesterday was indeed Thursday. Off he went proudly with just his Daddy, with pomp and circumstance fit for a king embarking on a great journey. Not to mention six bazillion kisses and hugs. And his blankie, tucked into the suitcase, just in case.
So that leaves just us, the two girls. Girl time! I've been striving this week to squeeze in some spring cleaning (I know, I know... It's summer already...), but I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to take some special time with just my little girl. At her request, yesterday we painted her toenails pink and went out to eat. A local 99-cent kids' meal special made her a cheap date! Today, we snuggled in bed, then decorated and fancied up the whole house. Her whole doll house, that is.
Through the generous cooperation of grandparents, she received a giant Ryan's Room doll house for Christmas a couple of years ago. It's made of unstained, sturdy wood. A blank canvas for the imagination, at least in the estimation of we adults who buy such things. She has enjoyed it very much. It has not escaped her fancy soul's notice, however, that there are other doll houses in existence with considerably more fancy, girly, fairy princess purple-and-pinkaliciousness going for them. She has never made a big fuss about acquiring such a fine model for herself, but she has obviously taken wistful note.
One day I casually threw out the idea that perhaps we could fancy-up her doll house a bit with some paint, paper and "accessories" (an understood nod toward her current literary hero, Fancy Nancy). Buried longings tapped, that little girl flew to me with such speed and force that she nearly knocked me over. She seized both of my shoulders, looked directly into my eyes, and said with solemn, yet fiery earnestness, "Yes. Yes, I want to do that! Can we do it NOW?!?" No, not now. "TODAY?!?" No, not today. I don't even have the accessories yet. Let's do it when all of your brothers are at camp. "Is that TODAY?!" No...
Chalk up another Mommy mental lapse. I caused her no small amount of mental anguish by sharing such a thrilling idea a bit too soon. But after today's flurry of "wallpapering" with scrapbooking paper, cutting new little bedspreads, towels, rugs and placemats from fabric, and even letting her paint her own paper rug, this...
...has made her very, very happy.
Which makes me very, very happy.
So glad to be in your world, sweetie girl.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Shining
Sometimes it isn't easy being Boy Number Three.
My third little guy has overheard the words, "And who is this?" asked regarding himself more times than I can even recall.
It can be commonly observed that when a woman is expecting her first baby, folks are generally excited about and quite interested in both the pregnancy and the baby. It's big news-- not to mention the perfect opportunity to offer all of one's wise advice! When number two comes along, it's still an exciting, noteworthy event for the general public, though with a little less luster than the first time such news broke. It is, after all, the expected thing in the course of forming the standard American family with 2.2 children.
This completed, however, the general appetite for baby news is sated and the pregnancy attention span takes a sudden dive. When number three comes along, especially of the same gender and appearance as the first two, let's just say that the public splash isn't quite so large. Mental Rolodexes for families seem to come with two official slots for children, and those are already filled. Number three's name may or may not get written on a post-it note to be pasted in. But, then! "An adopted child? From Ethiopia, you say? With such a poignant story, too-- have you heard? And a GIRL!" Middle-child sandwich.
Even beyond their grand entrances into the world, he jockeys for position: Boy #1 is not only #1, but he also has special needs. Boy #2 is busy excelling in many areas, and the Sister is just very busy being so notably girly and distinct in her other ways. He wants to hang with the big boys, yet he's just 18 months older than the baby, and gets grouped as a little one. When he does hang with the big boys, it's not always so easy to keep up. (Hence, the motto of little brothers everywhere: "If you can't join'em, beat'em-- or at least trash their stuff!")
He does well... but, poor guy! The effect is exacerbated by the fact that he looks so much like Boy #2. Sometimes people will see him apart from his brother, and assume he IS #2. Then they'll see him with all of the kids together, and out it comes: "Hi, girly Girl! Hi, Boy #1!" Pause for a double-take.... "Hey, what's up, Boy #2? And who is THIS?"
But this week! This week the big brothers have been away at camp. And so THIS? THIS is the big brother! The one who reads the little sister her bedtime story. The biggest boy in the house. The only one awake with mom during nap time. The one who gets to make a cool pirate ship model with all of mom's attention for himself. The snuggler, the sweet encourager, the helper, the voracious reader, the budding musician, the jokester... center stage, my little guy.
My third little guy has overheard the words, "And who is this?" asked regarding himself more times than I can even recall.
It can be commonly observed that when a woman is expecting her first baby, folks are generally excited about and quite interested in both the pregnancy and the baby. It's big news-- not to mention the perfect opportunity to offer all of one's wise advice! When number two comes along, it's still an exciting, noteworthy event for the general public, though with a little less luster than the first time such news broke. It is, after all, the expected thing in the course of forming the standard American family with 2.2 children.
This completed, however, the general appetite for baby news is sated and the pregnancy attention span takes a sudden dive. When number three comes along, especially of the same gender and appearance as the first two, let's just say that the public splash isn't quite so large. Mental Rolodexes for families seem to come with two official slots for children, and those are already filled. Number three's name may or may not get written on a post-it note to be pasted in. But, then! "An adopted child? From Ethiopia, you say? With such a poignant story, too-- have you heard? And a GIRL!" Middle-child sandwich.
Even beyond their grand entrances into the world, he jockeys for position: Boy #1 is not only #1, but he also has special needs. Boy #2 is busy excelling in many areas, and the Sister is just very busy being so notably girly and distinct in her other ways. He wants to hang with the big boys, yet he's just 18 months older than the baby, and gets grouped as a little one. When he does hang with the big boys, it's not always so easy to keep up. (Hence, the motto of little brothers everywhere: "If you can't join'em, beat'em-- or at least trash their stuff!")
He does well... but, poor guy! The effect is exacerbated by the fact that he looks so much like Boy #2. Sometimes people will see him apart from his brother, and assume he IS #2. Then they'll see him with all of the kids together, and out it comes: "Hi, girly Girl! Hi, Boy #1!" Pause for a double-take.... "Hey, what's up, Boy #2? And who is THIS?"
But this week! This week the big brothers have been away at camp. And so THIS? THIS is the big brother! The one who reads the little sister her bedtime story. The biggest boy in the house. The only one awake with mom during nap time. The one who gets to make a cool pirate ship model with all of mom's attention for himself. The snuggler, the sweet encourager, the helper, the voracious reader, the budding musician, the jokester... center stage, my little guy.
I love you, precious boy!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Drunken Slugs
For this edition of Works For Me Wednesday, I'm sharing an oldie but a goodie.
If there is something wreaking havoc in your flower garden, it just might be slugs. Slugs often aren't easy to find, but one thing will bring them out of hiding readily: Beer. They like a good time.
Here's what you do:
1. Buy some beer. We don't drink it ourselves, so it requires a special trip to get it. Though we have debated whether slugs prefer lite beer vs. regular, or one brand vs. another, the slugs themselves have indicated no preference. Therefore, we have scientifically concluded that the very best kind of beer for attracting and pleasing slugs is Cheapest Brand in the Case.
2. Place a small, low saucer filled with beer in the garden. That's it. In the morning, you will find drunken little slugs. They will be dead drunken little slugs, but they will have died happily.
3. Repeat a few times, as often as you deem necessary.
It's all-natural.
The best thing about this method is that, once a year or so, someone in your house may utter a sentence like, "We need to buy some beer for our slugs," and that is mightily funny. You can also then go to your local beverage store and explain to the clerk that you are buying beer for your slugs. If you have a few extra minutes on your hands, you can also try to engage said poor clerk in discussion about which variety of beer today's slugs like best. This will give him something to talk about with his co-workers later, bringing them closer together. It's a win-win-win solution, and it works for me.
For more tips and ideas, click over to Rocks in My Dryer.
If there is something wreaking havoc in your flower garden, it just might be slugs. Slugs often aren't easy to find, but one thing will bring them out of hiding readily: Beer. They like a good time.
Here's what you do:
1. Buy some beer. We don't drink it ourselves, so it requires a special trip to get it. Though we have debated whether slugs prefer lite beer vs. regular, or one brand vs. another, the slugs themselves have indicated no preference. Therefore, we have scientifically concluded that the very best kind of beer for attracting and pleasing slugs is Cheapest Brand in the Case.
2. Place a small, low saucer filled with beer in the garden. That's it. In the morning, you will find drunken little slugs. They will be dead drunken little slugs, but they will have died happily.
3. Repeat a few times, as often as you deem necessary.
It's all-natural.
The best thing about this method is that, once a year or so, someone in your house may utter a sentence like, "We need to buy some beer for our slugs," and that is mightily funny. You can also then go to your local beverage store and explain to the clerk that you are buying beer for your slugs. If you have a few extra minutes on your hands, you can also try to engage said poor clerk in discussion about which variety of beer today's slugs like best. This will give him something to talk about with his co-workers later, bringing them closer together. It's a win-win-win solution, and it works for me.
For more tips and ideas, click over to Rocks in My Dryer.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Jammin'
Here it is. About twelve quarts of strawberry jam, ready to be eaten. (Less now, actually. We got started on it right away.)
Have you ever made freezer jam?
Until four years ago, I hadn't. Somehow I'd never even heard of it. I thought that to make jam, you had to do canning. Canning is scary to me. Granted, I enjoy the results. Mostly, though, it's associated with childhood memories I have of my mom's friend in her hot, steamy kitchen, on hot, steamy summer days, surrounded by boiling cauldrons, strange wire contraptions, and vast quantites of tomatoes. (I think raw tomatoes are scary, too.) It looked complicated, very uncomfortable, and even a little bit suspicious to me back then. I also suspected that, to do canning, you had to have your homesteading papers or at least be born before 1950. (That was before I met Mary at Owlhaven, of course. She has dispelled my myths. But I'm still not canning.)
Anyway, when I came across a recipe for strawberry jam that involved no unfamiliar contraptions or jars with parts, I just had to try it as soon as the next berry season came along. After making that first batch, my reaction was, "Wow! This is SOOO good!! And I cannot BELIEVE how easy it was! Why did I wait so long in life to try this? Why did no one tell me about this?!" I have since learned that this exact series of statements is the official, universal reaction of every first-time freezer jam maker.
Every year --until this one, I hope!--we have run out of jam before the next year's berry crop. It is a royal bummer felt 'round the household to have to go back to the store-bought stuff, with it's unnatural color and stale taste.
Just to emphasize how easy it is and how, yes, you, too, can do it: the very first year I made it, I picked berries with my 7 year old, 4 year old and crawling baby, went home, and then was able to make up a batch within the hour. And I'm not even close to supermom status. (Then I did laundry. 'Turned out they had watered the strawberry field just before we got there that year. It was muddy. Did I mention that my baby was a crawler at the time?)
You don't want to go through your whole life among the uninitiated, do you? That would be sad. You can make jam with other fruits and berries,too, and even get all gourmet with it, adding ingredients like crystallized ginger, grated lemon peel, or vermouth. There are recipes everywhere. So please, if you haven't ever tried it, be brave, find some fresh, ripe fruit, copy this recipe if it suits you, and go at it!
30-Minute Freezer Jam
Makes 6 cups
1 quart fully ripe strawberries
4 cups sugar
3/4 cup water
1 box Sure-Jell fruit pectin (available in most American grocery stores)
6 1-cup plastic containers (or whatever you have that's on the small side)
(Yes, 4 cups is a lot of sugar. That's how jam is. If you want to try the low-sugar jam, look for a special version of Sure Gel, and follow directions on the box. I'd like to try it next year.)
1. Rinse clean plastic containers with boiling water; dry thoroughly.
2. Wash strawberries and remove stems.
3. Crush strawberries thoroughly, one layer at a time. (I just stick'em in the blender.)
4. Measure exactly 2 cups of the crushed strawberries into a large bowl. Stir in sugar. Let stand 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
5. Mix water and fruit pectin in a small saucepan. Bring mixture to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Continue boiling and stirring for one minute. (This whole step only takes a few minutes.)
6. Stir pectin mixture into fruit mixture. Stir constantly for a couple of minutes until sugar is thoroughly dissolved.
7. Quickly fill your containers to about 1/2 inch from the top. Wipe any drips off of the rims, and cover with lids right away.
8. Let stand at room temperature 24 hours, and it is ready to use. You can store it in the refrigerator for about 3 weeks, or in the freezer for up to a year.
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