Sunday Jam

Yesterday was a busy day at the Rock House.  Because the boys and I were super berry pickers, I now had about 13 pounds of strawberries to deal with before they went bad.  Luckily, last summer I got brave and tried canning strawberry jam for the first time.  My grandma always used to have some kind of homemade jam, and I missed it.  Store bought just isn't the same, so I gave it a shot, and it ended up being so easy.  And it didn't really take that long.  Well.  Let's remember that last year, I only canned about 4 pints at a time.  Turns out that 13 pounds of berries will make quite a bit more jam than 4 pints.  Let's try three hours of kitchen duty.  Not something I usually find enjoyable.

Luckily, brown baby loves to sleep in her Beco Butterfly:

And the boys were busy being gardeners in the front yard:

Pacey was on landscaping brick removal duty-- $ .25 per ugly, red brick-- and he knows how to capitalize.  He made close to $30.  And is quite proud because he figured out that over the weekend, he lifted half of a ton.  Something I'm sure will be a hot topic at the lunch table today.

Gage joined in on the brick removing fun, too, but gave up (not surprised, are we?) after only $7 and went to a much more creative endeavor.

I had fun mashing berries in the kitchen.  I turned Pandora radio to the Matchbox 20 station and pounded away.  Pounded and smashed, pounded and smashed...  I'm thinking there may have been some pent up frustration going on here.  It was way too much fun.

 
All of that smashing resulted in 15 cups of berries (thank goodness I got my grandma's huge canning pot) that needed 21 cups of sugar added to it.  Yes, 21 cups of sugar.  Who knew jam required that much sugar?  Which is exactly why it's so good, but I'm not sure it can be considered a fruit after all that.

Now those who know me know that I am not so much a cook of any kind.  I burn things.  I mix up steps.  The fact that the recipe is written for 5 cups of berries and 7 cups of sugar, and I had to triple it left me stressed.  I was convinced that somewhere my tripling calculations would be off and the jam would be ruined.  Husband always tells me not to do public math.  Kitchen math is equally as dangerous.

Boiling the canning jars makes me feel like something of a chemist.

So does simmering the lids...  The fact that I had three pots actively going on the stove is not lost on me.  I actually didn't burn or overflow anything.

The result: 15 pints of delicious strawberry jam!

It was a great Sunday, and I love that I connect with my past by doing things like canning jam.  I love sharing these kinds of traditions with my family and creating something that everyone at the Rock House loves.

How do you stay connected with your past?

S is for Strength

Christmas was a fun time at the Rock House-- filled with family and fun and all of the traditional Christmastime activities.  I have always made cookies with the boys at Christmas-- the first time with a 2 year old and a newborn.  Sprinkles and frosting decorated more of the table and floor than the cookies (notice Pacey is squeezing the frosting directly onto the table), and I know they don't remember it, but to me, it was an important time because I had never made my grandma's press cookies on my own before.  It had always been a Christmastime ritual to go over to Grandma's house and decorate the trees, wreaths, poinsettias, and dog cookies with candied cherries and sprinkles.  Baking with Grandma was one of my favorite pastimes, and since that first foray into independent cookie baking, which went beyond press cookies even, I have baked her cookies with the boys each year.

It always feels like more than just baking-- when I dig through my recipe box, find a recipe, some in my grandma's handwriting, pull down her KitchenAid mixer and set to work.  Reconnecting with the past, imagining simpler times, and creating something with the boys casts a warm glow around the process.  This year was especially meaningful because the boys and I made her S cookies, which were always my favorite.  The two-day recipe always had intimidated me, so I never tried it, but as the boys and I shaped cookies into S's, I felt perfectly at ease and content.  I held Gage's hand as he turned the handle of the grinder to chop the almonds the same way my grandma did with mine.  As we dipped the cookies into almonds and sugar, tears filled my eyes because I could feel a connection with my past that will allow my grandma to live forever in my kitchen, and it is moments like this that I can ask for nothing more but to continue baking cookies and building memories with my boys.

My grandma always said that I was determined and could do anything I set my mind to.  I'm not sure that I believed her when I was young, but the boys have changed my mindset as I strive to give them traditions, memories, and a warm family environment.  They will always remember these moments with me in kitchen, and I know that with every S, wreath, and tree she is smiling down on me and the Rock House family, pleased with the cookies, the continuing of Christmas traditions, and our happy life together.