Blackberry Karma

Blackberries in pail—Photo by Valeria Terekhina on Unsplash

My mother Helen loved blackberry jam with seeds—purplish-black, succulent berries perfectly preserved. Before she could make her first batch one summer in the early 70’s, she fell ill. She summoned me to her bedside and made me, who had never preserved, canned, or jammed anything, promise to save her blackberries.

Mother the summer of the blackberries with her pal Mancos.

So I reluctantly agreed. I followed her recipe meticulously but had trouble deciding when the “almost” jam had thickened to “real” jam. I let it cook and cook and—blackberry concrete. For years my mother laughed as she told friends how I ruined her prized blackberries. “You could stick a spoon in the jar, turn it upside down, and neither jam nor spoon would budge.”

That fateful day in August haunts me to this day. Since the pandemic and its repercussions, I am acutely aware of food insecurity and how wasteful I was with my mother’s blackberries. Whether driven by a need for independence during shortages, a way to feed hungry neighbors, or better-tasting food, preserving your own food is once again popular.

Commercially preserved foods now overwhelm us with unimaginable choices. But a pantry filled with your own canned foods comforts us. These delicacies taste better than store-bought and are more easily accessible—just in case natural disasters, economic downturns, or even wars surprise us.

Humans have preserved produce or “put things up” as we Southerners say, literally forever. Maybe I should try again? 

Even though I too share my mother’s love for blackberry jam with seeds (which by the way is almost impossible to find in stores), recently I have developed a new fruit passion. Figs, that tear-shaped fruit that tempts me every August, send me off on treasure hunts through farmers’ markets and Amish stores.

Tired of hearing me complain about a dearth of “good homemade” fig preserves, my dear friend Kim surprised me this year with pints of fig preserves and strawberry-fig jam. She made them, especially for me and one other friend who shares my fig addiction. These delicacies, made from figs ripened on trees her mother had planted years ago, reminded me of my blackberry jam fiasco. Unlike me, she successfully follows her mother Julia Sutton’s recipes and makes these prized homemade delights.

Kim Wrenn’s Fig Preserves
Recipes are from Kim’s mother, Julia Sutton

Every year my mother and grandmother pickled cucumbers and okra, canned tomatoes, preserved pears, and made jams—techniques foreign to me. This summer I plan to follow in their footsteps and at least erase that bad blackberry jam karma. Kim has shared her mother’s “foolproof” recipes with me (see below) and promises to help me make the fig preserves and jam I love so much.

This summer I’ll let you know if they are “Phyllis” proof or if I have another batch of fruit concrete. Fingers crossed! 

Question for readers:  Besides freezing, canning, curing, fermenting, have you pickled, Pasteurized (thank you Louis Pasteur), flash frozen (thanks Clarence Birdseye), vacuum packed, freeze-dried, buried, root cellared your food? 

The Afghanis preserve grapes for six months by sealing them in clay pots called kanginas. Do you have other methods that you have tried or know about?

Helping others with recipes: If you are interested in helping end food insecurity or just in delicious recipes from around the world, visit The Common Ingredient….. is Love–thecommoningredient.com. This recipe-sharing website advocates for non-profits, churches, and food banks that feed the hungry. While website visitors search for down-home as well as gourmet recipes or submit their favorite recipes, they also discover ways to help end hunger.

Recipes

Strawberry-Fig Jam 

Julia Sutton’s recipe as told to her daughter Kim Wrenn

3 cups mashed full ripe figs

2 packages (3 oz) Strawberry Jello®

3 cups sugar

Pinch of salt

Mix all together and cook for 15 to 18 minutes

For scalded jars

Wash and rinse jars thoroughly either by hand or in the dishwasher. Sterilize jars by pouring boiling water in them. Put on a pan (such as a big cookie sheet) in 200 degree oven to let them dry out. Let them stay in there until you fill the jars with hot jam. (Hot jam in the hot jar helps seal the jar. No water bath needed.)

Remove one jar at a time from oven and add strawberry mixture to jar while the jar is warm. Leave about 1 inch from top of jar.

Fill sink or pan with boiling water. Dip jar tops and flats in boiling water. Dry with paper towel and put them on jar. Seal with ring. Before sealing be sure to wipe top of jar with really hot cloth to clean off jam that might have dropped on jar top when filling. Sticky jam on the jar will prevent sealing.

Wipe sealed jars with dishcloth and place jars aside. Don’t slide the jar around. Just leave them on countertop undisturbed. You will hear the “pop” when they seal.

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Fig Preserves

Julia Sutton’s recipe as told to her daughter Kim Wrenn

Wash and cut stems from 4 cups of figs. (Don’t use overripe figs.) Put in pot.

Add 3 cups of sugar and let the mixture sit a little while, about 30 minutes.

Put on stove and real slowly let the sugar melt. (Use low heat—not lowest setting)

Take a spoonful of juice and put in a saucer to see if it is thick enough. You want syrupy—not runny, but not too thick.

For scalded jars

Wash and rinse jars thoroughly either by hand or in the dishwasher. Sterilize jars by pouring boiling water in them and then draining. Put jars on a pan (such as a big cookie sheet) in 200 degree oven to let them dry out. Let them stay in there until you fill the jars with hot jam. (Hot jam in the hot jar helps seal the jar. No water bath needed.)

Remove one jar at a time from oven and add fig preserves to jar while the jar is warm. Leave about 1 inch from top of jar.

Fill sink or pan with boiling water. Dip jar tops and flats in boiling water. Dry with paper towel and put them on jar. Seal with ring. Before sealing, be sure to wipe top of jar with really hot cloth to clean off jam that might have dropped on the jar when filling. Sticky jam on the jar will prevent sealing.

Wipe sealed jars with dish cloth and place jars aside. Don’t slide the jar around. Just leave them on countertop undisturbed. You will hear the “pop” when they seal.

The Reluctant Writer

It all seemed so simple when I first retired. At last! I had time to write! Oh what plans I had—

Short story about Dixie Carter’s wedding in McLemoresville, TN. Wasn’t sure what else I might construct a story around, but I started on that one.

A local writer’s group sponsored The Valley Voices writing contest, and I was determined to submit to that group’s competition. Now what could I write that would impress the judges?

And yes, I must start journaling—writing down stories about my experiences as the Public Information Director for a North Carolina Sheriff’s Office. There was this time when a citizen 


Working with Jim Sughrue, Raleigh Police, & Amanda Lamb, WRAL
as Wake County Sheriff’s Office Public Information Director

insisted on telling me about how ticks had infested her yard, her house, her body. And just what did that have to do with crime in our county? I couldn’t wait to tell that story. 

And then there was the time that a grieving mother picketed outside my office window. A sad tale filled with murder, twins being born with the veil, fake detectives, and mug shots drawn in pencil on paper plates. That story needed to be told to emphasize the need for mental health assistance. That mother’s experience lives on in my heart—her story and its effect on me would make for good reading.

But I was new to Blacksburg. My husband had lived here since 1996, but my residency didn’t begin until 2013. So it was off to the Blacksburg Newcomers Club (BBNC) that welcomed me warmly. Oh what Interest Groups they had for me to explore—Wine Group, Book Club (not 1 but 2), Lunch Bunch, eventually Crochet, Walking, and of course, a Writers’ Group, and our Circle Supper where the dearest and truest friends lay in wait for me.

My Circle Supper Co-horts–Me, Bonnie Bunger, Cheryl Green, & Linda Moll

Naturally, I went head first into all the activities, serving on the Board as its Corresponding/Recording Secretary.  Even though the Dixie Carter story sat unfinished on my lap top and the Grieving Mother story rattled around in my brain but not on paper or disc, I told myself that I was writing—writing letters and notes and minutes for BBNC. 

Then my parents fell ill. Literally, my father fell and broke his hip which meant no one to care for our mother plagued with Alzheimer’s.

Ten hour trips to Tennessee with my sister and sometimes alone to care for them, to helplessly witness their decline, their death, occupied my time although journalling about this experience helped. Ok, I was writing. I ended up with some very cathartic memoirs about this time in my life, but who would want to read them?

Here lately, I notice that any time I sit down to write, I find an excuse to do something else. Some days my house is spotless as I clean out pantries, clean bathrooms, read that book for our next book club meeting, clean my jewelry, empty the dishwasher, read FlipBoard—do anything but write. I spend my time chasing butterflies but not writing.

And if I have written the rare story or essay, I am afraid to let it go. It must be perfect! I will delete a the and add a this; insert a comma or rarely delete one (I love the Oxford comma). I move paragraphs, change character names, switch between passive voice (usually a no-no) and active voice (a yes-yes). l am afraid to have anyone read it until I think it is perfect.

But why would anyone want to read what I have written? 

Since I wrote that last sentence, I have continued to procrastinate about writing. Why not take a ride to Paint Bank, VA to see the buffalo at Hollow Hill Farms? Why not make a Texas Trash Pie for my neighbor’s father? Why not organize my greeting cards or prune my daffodils?

But look—words not on paper but on a screen, on a disc! Thanks to my writing friend and blog mentor who encouraged me to examine the reasons for my procrastination, I wrote. You see the results in the text above. Basically, I think, I am afraid, worried I have nothing to say that is meaningful, and no routine. Maybe I need a supervisor, someone with assignments for me. I don’t have writer’s block—I have lots of ideas but no reason to follow through with them.

What motivates you to write, paint, crochet, knit, do anything creative? Am I the only one with these issues? Maybe I’m just lazy.