Paul Campbell3
Regular
259 messages
joined Feb 2004
Basically, the transition into fall and winter kicked off with a full-blown ritual in my kitchen. 😁
God knows what possessed 😈 me yesterday, but I clocked a record-breaking 12 hours at the stove. Maybe it’s because it’s getting a little chilly out—too early to crank the heat, obviously—and hanging out by the range is one of the best ways to stay warm.
Or maybe those blackberries were just acting up. Or both.
Or maybe there's a third reason: a sudden, primal urge to stockpile hazelnuts for the winter. 😁
Whatever the reason, the end result is blackberry and cherry jam.
Honestly, I prefer jams over preserves; first off, they're less work, and second, nothing beats having actual chunks of fruit in there.
Jellies are a different story entirely; the quince one is probably my favorite—especially paired with a soft-boiled egg, toast, and butter. Real butter. Not margarine. But the quince will have to wait until the first frost hits.
Those unlucky blackberries from earlier? I picked them up way back in early July for next to nothing. There’s a little trick to it: I always hit the farmers market around 2 PM. The selection might be thin by then, but people sell stuff for peanuts—seriously, I almost felt bad taking it. My Godmother is always in a rush to get home and doesn't want to haul unsold produce back with her.
And those same blackberries were originally meant for one specific cake. By some stroke of luck, that cake never actually materialized—days passed, and nothing. Then it hit me: forget the cake, let's just turn them into jam! At least this way, the enjoyment lasts longer (which is the most important part). 😁😉
I know, I know—it's a sin to thaw fruit just to cook it, but sometimes things just need time to "ripen."
While I was pitting cherries (for the other jam), I found myself thinking about Indians. They never wrote anything down. Unlike us, where we document every single word, get it notarized, and then usually go and break our word anyway, they gave their promises and vows orally—and they actually kept them.
What do Indians have to do with all this?
Recipes. Seriously. Sometimes I cling to recipes like a drunk clings to a fence. Usually, when I'm rushing or skimming, I miss an essential ingredient, and I end up having to pull the dough out of the oven because I totally forgot to add the butter. 😁
That would never happen to Indians. Since they didn't rely on written documents, they had to master the art of oral storytelling, passing down details with intense concentration. So, I started connecting the dots in my recipes; instead of blindly following instructions, I started observing what I was doing and *why*. In that moment, I felt this culinary "liberation"—not just being present in the moment, but opening the door to improvisation.
Maybe this sounds trivial and you're all thinking: "Good morning, Paul Campbell3! We seasoned spiritualists have known this for ages."
Well, good for you, then! 😉
But truly, looking at these eight happy jars of cherry and blackberry jam, I can't help but wonder how much we are actually conscious of things, and how much we just *think* we are.
Second thought: how easily we make promises and give our word, and how little we stick to them if it isn't "official" on paper. What percentage of us are actually Indians at heart?
