Elderberry Jelly

The first ripe Brandywine. It was ready on Wednesday morning, the same as every year: full color, yielding under my thumb, warm from the garden. I did the thing you do: brought it inside, sliced it thick, good flake salt, nothing else, ate it at the counter. The specific flavor of a tomato you grew from a seed you saved from a tomato you grew from a seed. The chain of summers concentrated into one July Wednesday. I stood at the counter longer than was necessary. That seems right.

Teddy came back from the cooking intensive on Sunday with a notebook full of notes and a vocabulary I didn't expect — not pretentious culinary terminology but the working vocabulary of someone who has spent two weeks learning from professionals. He called Sunday evening and talked for forty-five minutes. He said: I learned that I've been doing some things right. I said: and? He said: and some things wrong. I said: which things wrong? He described three techniques he'd been approximating that have correct forms. He'd already corrected them. He wasn't troubled by having been wrong. He was interested. That's the mark of someone who will keep getting better.

The garden is producing at maximum. More tomatoes than I can eat fresh, beans every three days, cucumbers in abundance, corn coming in. The August work — the preserving, the sauce, the putting-away — is imminent. The summer is at the point where enjoying and working happen simultaneously and are, in fact, the same thing.

That line about enjoying and working happening simultaneously — that’s exactly where I am right now, and it’s exactly why I keep coming back to this elderberry jelly every August. The garden doesn’t wait, and neither does the fruit on the elder hedge at the back of the property; you work with what’s ready when it’s ready. And after watching Teddy describe correcting his technique with such matter-of-fact interest — no drama, just adjustment — I found myself approaching the jelly-making the same way: paying attention to what the process actually requires, not what I’d been approximating for years.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: About 6 half-pint jars

Ingredients

3 lbs fresh elderberries, stems removed
3/4 cup water
2 tablespoons lemon juice, freshly squeezed
1 package (1.75 oz) powdered fruit pectin
4 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon unsalted butter (optional, to reduce foaming)

Instructions

Prepare the jars. Sterilize 6 half-pint canning jars and their lids by simmering in hot water. Keep warm until ready to fill.
Extract the juice. Combine elderberries and water in a large saucepan over medium heat. Crush berries with a potato masher as they heat. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 10 minutes. Strain through a damp jelly bag or double layer of cheesecloth, allowing juice to drip without pressing (pressing clouds the jelly). You need 3 cups of juice; if short, add a little water.
Cook the jelly base. Pour the 3 cups elderberry juice into a large, deep pot. Add lemon juice and pectin. If using, add butter. Bring to a full rolling boil over high heat, stirring constantly.
Add sugar and return to boil. Add all the sugar at once and stir to dissolve. Return to a full rolling boil (one that cannot be stirred down) and boil hard for exactly 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and skim any foam.
Fill and seal jars. Ladle hot jelly into prepared jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Wipe rims clean, apply lids and bands fingertip-tight.
Process. Process jars in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes (adjust for altitude if needed). Remove and allow to cool undisturbed on a towel for 12 to 24 hours. Check seals before storing.

Nutrition (per serving, approximately 1 tablespoon)

Elderberry Jelly — Putting Up the Summer While It’s Still Here