Champagne Jelly — A New Year’s Toast to Nineteen Years of Showing Up

New Year's 2031. Black-eyed peas for the nineteenth year. Dustin made them — eighth consecutive year, consistently excellent, the student now the master. We ate them at midnight (well, 10:30 — we haven't made it to midnight since the kids were born, and the kids are now old enough to stay up for midnight but we are not). Brayden made it to 11:15. Harper made it to 11:45 (reading, of course — she reads through the countdown, which is the most Harper way to greet a new year). Wyatt was asleep by 9, because Wyatt goes to bed when Wyatt decides to go to bed, and no holiday overrides his schedule.

Resolution: The third cookbook. Working title: "Counter Space: Cooking When You've Got Nothing and Nobody." This one is different from the first two. "Five Dollars, Five People" was about feeding my family. "Pantry Rules" was about feeding food bank families. This one is about everything — the stories, the full stories, the stories that didn't fit in recipe breakdowns or food bank curriculum. The tornado. The flashlight homework. The dropout. The factory. The washing machine as prep surface. The Walmart parking lot cry. The counter space dream. All of it. Not just recipes. A memoir that happens to include recipes. A life told through meals.

I started writing it on January 2nd. At the kitchen table, after the kids were in bed, with a cup of coffee and a notebook (old-fashioned, handwritten, the way the first cookbook started). First sentence: "My name is Kaylee Turner, and I learned to cook because nobody else was going to make dinner." The first sentence is the whole book. The first sentence is the whole life. Nobody else was going to make dinner. So I did. And I never stopped.

We didn’t make it to midnight — we never do anymore — but the night still felt like a proper celebration, and I wanted something on the table that sparkled the way the year deserved to. Dustin had the black-eyed peas covered, which meant I could do something purely festive, something that existed for no reason other than joy. Champagne Jelly felt exactly right: delicate, a little unexpected, and a small reminder that even when you’re writing a memoir about hard years, you’re allowed to put something beautiful on the table for the new one.

Champagne Jelly

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 20 min (plus 4 hours chilling) | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 bottle (750 ml) dry champagne or sparkling wine, divided
• 2 envelopes (1/4 oz each) unflavored gelatin powder
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup cold water
• Fresh raspberries or strawberries, for serving (optional)
• Whipped cream, for serving (optional)

Instructions

1. Bloom the gelatin. Pour the cold water into a small saucepan and sprinkle both envelopes of gelatin evenly over the surface. Let sit for 2–3 minutes without stirring until the gelatin softens and blooms.
2. Dissolve sugar. Add the sugar to the saucepan with the bloomed gelatin. Warm over low heat, stirring gently, just until the gelatin and sugar are fully dissolved, 2–3 minutes. Do not boil. Remove from heat.
3. Add champagne. Pour 1 cup of the champagne into the gelatin mixture and stir gently to combine. Then slowly pour in the remaining champagne, tilting the pan to minimize fizz. Stir gently — preserving as many bubbles as possible gives the jelly its sparkle.
4. Pour into molds. Divide the mixture evenly among 6 individual dessert glasses, champagne flutes, or a lightly oiled 4-cup mold. If using fresh berries, drop a few into each glass now.
5. Chill. Refrigerate uncovered for at least 4 hours, or until fully set. For best results, chill overnight.
6. Serve. Serve directly in the glasses, or unmold onto a chilled plate. Top with whipped cream and fresh berries if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 130 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 10mg