Blueberry Jam -- The Sweetness We Put Up for Later

Saturday Mami met Mateo.

Miguel Jr. drove Jenny and the baby to our house in the afternoon. Mami was there already — Eduardo had picked her up at her apartment and gotten her settled in the big chair with a blanket. Mateo was two weeks old. The visit had been planned by phone with three different Delgado women in conference: Me, Jenny, and Mami herself, who had asked for Saturday specifically because Saturday was when she felt strongest.

Jenny walked in with the baby in the carrier. Mami's face lit up. Her face actually lit up — the fog parted — and she held out both hands and said, "Bring me the baby." Jenny lifted Mateo out of the carrier and placed him in Mami's arms. Mami held him. She looked at him for a long time. Then she did what she has done at every Delgado baby's first meeting: she blessed him.

She made the sign of the cross on his forehead with her thumb. She whispered in Spanish — words I recognized from my own baptism, words Abuela Consuelo used, words older than any of us — and she said his name three times: Mateo. Mateo. Mateo. She said, "You are Delgado. You are Ortiz. You are strong. You are loved." Jenny was crying. Miguel Jr. was crying. Eduardo was pretending not to cry. I was crying openly. This was the blessing. This was what we had come for.

Mami held Mateo for twenty minutes. She did not want to give him up. She told him stories in Spanish that he was too young to understand and that I was memorizing — about the concrete block house in Bayamón, about Abuela Consuelo, about his great-great-grandmother whom I had never met. Lineage. She was giving him his lineage.

I had made caldo — a clear chicken broth with ginger, garlic, and a little squeeze of lime, the thing I make after a birth, the thing I always make — and Jenny drank a bowl sitting next to Mami, and I watched my daughter-in-law and my mother sitting side by side on the couch, a ninety-one-pound eighty-five-year-old holding a newborn and a thirty-two-year-old exhausted postpartum mother drinking broth, and I thought: this is the chain. This is what I signed up for when I said yes to Eduardo in 1988. I signed up for this living room, this moment, this lineage being passed forward.

Lucas and Isabella were at Jenny's parents' house for the afternoon. They did not see this. That is okay. There will be other days. This day was for Mateo and Mami.

After they left, Mami was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "Carmen, I have seen four great-grandchildren. I have done my work." I did not know how to answer. I did not answer. I refilled her coffee. We sat. Eduardo drove her home at 5 PM. Wepa.

I made the caldo that afternoon because that is what my hands know to do after a birth — but after Eduardo drove Mami home and the house went quiet, I found myself at the stove again, unable to sit still, reaching for the blueberries I’d bought at the market and had been saving without knowing why. This is the jam I make when something happens that I want to hold onto. Mami said she had done her work. I needed to do mine — to put something up, to seal it, to have something on the shelf that will still be there in January that says: this day happened, it was sweet, and we were all here for it.

Blueberry Jam

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 48 (makes approximately three 8-oz jars)

Ingredients

• 4 cups fresh blueberries, rinsed and picked over
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 1/4 teaspoon unsalted butter (optional, to reduce foaming)

Instructions

1. Prepare your jars. Wash three 8-oz mason jars, lids, and bands in hot soapy water. Place jars in a large pot, cover with water, and bring to a boil to sterilize. Keep warm until ready to fill.
2. Crush the blueberries. In a wide, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, combine blueberries and lemon juice. Use a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon to crush the berries until you have a coarse, juicy mixture — some whole berries are fine.
3. Cook the jam. Stir in the sugar and lemon zest. Bring to a full rolling boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. Add butter if using. Continue boiling hard, stirring frequently, for 20—25 minutes, until the jam thickens and reaches 220°F on a candy thermometer.
4. Test for set. Place a small plate in the freezer for 5 minutes. Drop a spoonful of jam onto the cold plate; if it wrinkles when you push it with your finger, the jam is ready. If not, cook 3—5 minutes more and test again.
5. Fill the jars. Remove from heat and skim any foam from the surface. Ladle hot jam into warm sterilized jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Wipe rims clean with a damp cloth. Apply lids and bands until fingertip-tight.
6. Process or refrigerate. For shelf-stable jam, process filled jars in a boiling-water bath for 10 minutes. Remove and let cool completely on a towel, undisturbed, for 12—24 hours. Any jars that do not seal should be refrigerated and used within 3 weeks. Sealed jars keep in a cool, dark place for up to 1 year.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 40 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 0mg