Urban Foraging: Figs from a Neighbor

The combination of dogs and a walkable neighborhood gives me the perfect excuse to go on reconnaissance missions around my neighborhood, looking—some might call it snooping—on parking strips and in front yards for fruit trees. Having older dogs that, like toddlers, are more interested in process than destination, I've taken the opportunity to note the plum, Italian prune, fig, pear, apple, cherry and persimmon trees on our various routes.

Some are gnarly old things that predate the bungalows built in the 1920s, the only surviving remnants of the orchards and farms that used to dot the countryside between the small towns like Sellwood, Albina, Multnomah, Kenton, Lents and St. Johns that were eventually annexed by Portland. Others were planted as street trees in the intervening years, though I wonder if the hapless homeowner who planted the giant walnut tree in his front yard thought about the terminal velocity of ripe walnuts when they drop 60 feet onto his car (or his head).

In any case, just around the corner from us is a fig tree that was planted around seven or eight years ago that the homeowners had tried to espalier along a short retaining wall. The scent of the leaves was intoxicating on warm summer nights, but it never bore fruit until the house sold and the new owners neglected to trim it back. The next year there were big, dark brown figs dangling from its branches and I began stalking the house, hoping to strike up a friendly, if self-serving, conversation with the new owners.

A couple of months ago I finally—aha!—caught the guy raking in his yard and casually asked if perchance they ever used the figs or would…ahem…mind sharing some of them. He scowled and indicated his girlfriend had tried making jam the previous year but ended up throwing most of it out, and he'd be happy if someone picked them so they wouldn't litter his sidewalk.

Score one for persistence!

So last week, shopping bag in hand, I walked over and plucked three or so pounds. They were delicious for eating out of hand, and I made the rest into a stellar jam using a recipe from Martha Rose Shulman as a guide, though I doubled her recipe and used a bit less sugar than she called for.

Fig Jam
Adapted from Martha Rose Shulman

2 1/2 lbs. ripe figs, roughly chopped
4 1/2 c. sugar
5 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice, strained
4 tsp. balsamic vinegar

In a large bowl, toss together chopped figs and half the sugar. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour.

Transfer figs and sugar to a medium-sized saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring frequently to prevent scorching. When mixture comes to a boil, scrape back into bowl and cover with plastic. Let cool and refrigerate overnight.

Scrape fig mixture back into the saucepan. Place a small plate in the freezer to use for checking the thickness of the jam as it cooks. Bring the fruit back to a boil over medium heat, stirring frequently. When the mixture comes to a boil, stir in the remaining sugar, the lemon juice and the balsamic vinegar. Boil, stirring, until mixture is thick but not too concentrated, 10 to 15 minutes. Skim off any foam that accumulates. I also skimmed off some of the seeds that cluster at the surface, though it's not necessary to skim off all of them.

To test for doneness, remove the plate from the freezer and place a spoonful of the jam on it. Wait about 20 seconds and tilt the plate. The jam should only run slightly, and fairly slowly. Boil a little longer if it seems too runny, but take care not to cook it until too thick. It needs to be spreadable.

Transfer the jam to clean jars, wipe the rims and place canning lids on top. Place canning bands over the lids but don't tighten bands more than finger tight. Allow to cool, tighten the bands, then refrigerate or freeze.

Check out the fascinating history of the Italian prune trees found around the city and get a recipe for a Prune (or Plum) Tart!

A Peach of an Offer

A text message from my friend Ann was all it took:

"Need peaches? A friend invited me to come pick peaches from her three overloaded trees. I thought I'd go this afternoon. Want to come?"

How could I refuse to help unburden those three trees? It verged on turning away from a lost puppy or refusing to help a poor lost soul.

In other words, I was so in!

With our boxes stacked in the back of Chili, we arrived at the aforementioned friend's home in the Cully neighborhood to find that, indeed, the trees were so loaded with fruit that several large branches had torn off under their weight. A few ripe peaches had fallen of their own accord and were lying in the grass gently decomposing in the warm shade, but few bees were buzzing around, making our job ever so much more pleasant.

A slight press with a finger into the flesh near the stem gave a good indication of ripeness—a bit of "give" is all you're looking for—and, since there was so much that was ready, it took us only about a half hour to get twenty pounds apiece. Even better, since it was obligatory that we taste test a couple, they turned out to be not only richly sweet and juicy, but a freestone variety that peeled with a simple tug at the skin near the stem. What a treasure trove!

When I got home it was incumbent upon me to make a dessert with them, and with peach cobbler near the top of my nigh-perfect dessert list, I whipped one up and stuck it in the oven. While it baked, I sliced up and froze a gallon-and-a-half or so on parchment-lined cookie sheets to be dumped into zip-lock bags for a surprise dessert in the dead of winter. The rest were made into peach jam in two batches over the next couple of days as the not-so-ripe peaches matured, more goodness to open up in the coming fall and winter, reminding me of that hot, sunny day under the peach trees with my friend.

Peach Jam

The first fruit of the season, whether berries, stone fruits, zucchinis or cucumbers, have naturally high levels of pectin, so you can make preserves without resorting to adding pectin, which some people feel changes the flavor of the fresh fruit.

15-16 ripe, medium-sized peaches
3 1/2 c. sugar
1 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp. salt

Pit, peel and cut the peaches into 1/2" or so chunks. Put in large saucepan or Dutch oven and add the rest of the ingredients. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat and simmer until the jam is thickened and sticks to back of a spoon. (You can also do the frozen plate test.)

I like my jam a little runny and it took about 2 hrs. or so to get to that point. I also don't like excessively sweet preserves, so judge the amount of sugar based on the sweetness of the fruit and your own tastes. If the jam is too chunky for you after it cooks, take a potato masher and squish it until it's the right consistency.

As far as canning, I simply take washed jars and fill them within a quarter inch of the top, put on the canning lids and rings and cool them to room temperature, then freeze them. If you have a hot water-bath canner, follow the directions for shelf-stable storage.

Still Life, Transylvania

My friend Linda is in Transylvania, revisiting old friends from previous travels and, because she is the kind of warm and compassionate person who draws wonderful people to her, making many new ones. She sent me this country still life from her current trip.

You can read about her previous trip involving a village gathering to slaughter a pig and how to make rose hip jam.

Jammin' with Peaches

My mother grew up in a tiny ranching town at the foot of the Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon where winters were long and stores were few. Which meant that any fruits or vegetables that grew in their garden or that they could buy from local farmers were canned or preserved for the cold months. During my childhood she'd haul out the old blue and white-speckled canner and "put up" jars of cherries, peaches and jams that would line the shelves of the pantry, releasing the sweet flavor of summer on frigid winter mornings.

I never caught the canning bug from her, but every once in awhile even I'm tempted to preserve a little summery goodness in glowing glass jars. Though instead of lining my pantry they go in the freezer until a piece of bread or bowl of ice cream calls for some adornment. This year's stunning peach crop deserved to be enshrined in jars and celebrated on special occasions, so I did a little research and made the following freezer jam. I think my mother would be pleased.

Peach Freezer Jam

4 lbs. peaches
2 c. sugar (add more if you like sweeter jams)
1/4 c. lemon juice

Place three salad plates in the freezer—these will be used to test the jam to make sure it's jelled.

Peel and dice the peaches. Place in large pot or Dutch oven. Pour sugar and lemon juice over the top, stir briefly and let it sit on the counter for 1-2 hrs. This will allow the peaches to macerate, releasing some of their juices. Then mash the peaches until they're the consistency you like. (I prefer mine a little chunky.) Over medium-high heat, bring the fruit to a boil then reduce to a simmer, stirring often to prevent sticking. Cook for 30 minutes. Pull the first plate out of the freezer and spoon a small amount onto the plate. Let it sit for a minute, then test it with your finger. If it has formed a skin and doesn't seem too runny, it's done. If not, cook for another ten minutes and test again. Repeat until it suits your taste. (I like mine a little runny, the better to soak into a warm piece of toast or melt into a bowl of ice cream.)

Bring a shallow pot of water to boil on the stove and put the caps and screw-on lids in it. Boil for 1 minute to sterilize them. Spoon the cooked jam into clean, dry glass jars, leaving about 1/4 inch at the top. Cap and screw on lids. Allow to cool and then put them in the freezer.

Get more peachy recipes: Bourbon Peach Sorbet, Peach Cobbler.

Putting Food By

I looked in our freezer yesterday and was astonished to see how much I'd managed to squirrel away over the summer, from berries to rhubarb to stocks (fish, chicken and corn), as well as tomato sauce (roasted and smoked) and corn. Yippee! Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans, resident chef at the Montavilla Farmers' Market, has been a busy bee this summer, too, and says it's not time to hang up the apron just yet.

For those who preserve the bounty of summer, it's time to sit back and admire the fruits of your labor. How did you manage to put up that many jars of jam? And how quickly will your family devour every last bit, enjoying the slice of summer you managed to stow away? At this point in the season, you can relax, take a well-deserved breath, and count your inventory.

Can't you?

Or maybe you're one of those people who had the best intentions—you thought about making jam or pickles or even chutney, maybe even bought the produce—but the project never seemed to gel. You ate all the peaches instead of peeling and jarring them, they were just so darn good. And it seemed much easier just to throw the berries into the freezer rather than labor over a hot stove in the sweltering heat. (Bravo to you, now you have a stock of perfect berries to sooth the wintry blues.) But now you pine for a stocked pantry. It really would be nice to have some condiments on hand for holiday entertaining…

Well, fear not, the preserving season is far from over. In fact, some of my very favorite personal pantry items are made with the bounty that is just coming on. And thanks to our temperate NW climate, our growing season extends longer than it does in many areas. This increases the opportunity to preserve by both length of season and variety of product that our farmers are able to grow. (I just got a bag of pickling cucumbers from the market on Sunday—I could hardly believe it, I thought the season was long over!) So suit up and get back in the kitchen…come the holidays, you'll be glad you did.

Vanilla Pear Jam
Adapted from Perfect Preservesby Nora Carey

Makes 1 1/2 qts.

This jam is sweetened by the natural sugars in the pears and fruit juice. No additional sugar is required. It is perfect over pancakes, French toast or waffles, or use it to top ice cream or pound cake. Served with a biscuit and whipped cream, it makes a fun fall shortcake.

5 lbs. pears
Grated zest of 1 lemon plus 2 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 qts. unsweetened apple, pear or white grape juice
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

Peel, quarter, and core the pears. Chop the pears into small cubes and toss them in a bowl with the lemon zest and juice. Set aside.

In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, combine the fruit juice of your choice with the vanilla bean. Reduce the liquid by half over moderate heat. Remove the vanilla bean from the reduced juice. Add the pears and their liquid to the juice and bring the mixture to a boil over moderate heat. Cook the jam, stirring frequently, for 30-40 minutes, or until the jellying point is reached.

Spoon the jam into warm sterilized jars and seal. Process jars of jam in a boiling water bath (where the water just covers the tops of the jars) for 10 minutes. Let cool. Check the seals and store up to 1 year.

Jammin' with Mark

I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love Mark Bittman's approach to food. It's not fussy, it's not complicated, it's not full of the smoke-and-mirrors stuff you see in books and on TV where celebrity chefs are more about impressing you with their huge egos than teaching you how to cook great food.

So this post on his blog caught my eye in a big way, and you can bet this jam is going to be appearing on a pantry shelf near us in the very near future. Plus you can watch the video to see how the man himself does it!

Tomato Jam

1 1/2 lbs. good ripe tomatoes(Roma are best), cored and coarsely chopped
1 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lime juice
1 Tbsp. fresh grated or minced ginger
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 jalapeño or other peppers, stemmed, seeded and minced, or red pepper flakes or cayenne to taste.

Combine all ingredients in a heavy medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring often. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until mixture has consistency of thick jam, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning, then cool and refrigerate until ready to use; this will keep at least a week.

Yield: About 1 pint.

Photo from NYTimes.com

Jam-orama

Our friends Monique and Kevin came over for dinner the other night and, while I'm not a big hostess-gift person (a bottle of wine seems like plenty to me), brought us a wonderful jar of blackcap jam made by Ayers Creek Farm. The next morning I was looking for something to have with my coffee and toasted como from Grand Central and pulled it out of the cupboard. Let me tell you, opening this was like an explosion of distilled summer with its almost black color and deep, rich berry flavor and aroma.

Ayers Creek is a small organic farm in Gaston that is owned by Anthony and Carol Boutard and specializes in berries, beans, melons and grains. Their produce is used by several prominent local restaurants and is carried in local Whole Foods stores, and their jams can be found at both Pastaworks locations. During farmers' market season, they are regulars at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market. I'm definitely going to be seeking these folks out, so check back in for an update. In the meantime, get some of this incredible jam for yourself. It's amazing!