By Memorial Day weekend and the first strawberry-rhubarb jam of the year. The strawberries came in volume this week — three and a half quarts over two days of picking — and the rhubarb has been waiting, so Saturday was a jam day. I ran six batches through the course of the morning, a total of twenty-four half-pint jars, the kitchen running hot and fragrant from eight in the morning until noon. The set was right on all six batches, the consistency I have been dialing in since the first year: soft enough to spread without resistance but firm enough to hold a shape on the spoon. Bill called in the middle of the fourth batch and I held the phone to the kitchen and he said he could almost smell it through the phone.
Ted had me over for the Memorial Day cookout — his grandsons and David and Patricia and Ted and myself, in the backyard with the charcoal going since noon. Owen had requested that I tell him how to build a charcoal fire properly, which Ted had apparently endorsed, so I gave Owen the coal-and-chimney tutorial while everyone else stood around holding drinks and pretending not to listen. Owen built the fire himself and it was correct on the first try and he walked away from the lit chimney with a posture of deliberate restraint that told me he wanted very much to display satisfaction but had decided that would not be becoming. He is eleven years old and already managing his own dignity. I find that admirable.
The sixth year of the rhubarb jam feels different from the previous five in the way that anything repeated over years accumulates meaning beyond its own content. I posted the jam recipe again, the same one I have posted before with small variations, and noted that this was the seventh year I had made it from this patch and that the patch was in its prime and would probably outlive me if well tended, which I said without sadness because it is simply true. Several readers wrote that they had started making this recipe two or three years ago because of a previous post and were making it again this year and would make it next year. The jam is now in more kitchens than mine. That seems like the right kind of legacy for a recipe.
By the time the sixth batch was sealed and the kitchen had finally started to cool, the only thing that sounded right was something cold and tart — the opposite of the sweet, heavy heat of the jam. I had made a batch of raspberry lemonade concentrate the week before, knowing this weekend was coming, and that afternoon I poured it over ice and sat on the back step while the jars pinged their seals one by one. It is a good thing to have waiting for you on the other side of a morning’s work.
Raspberry Lemonade Concentrate
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 12 (makes about 3 cups concentrate)
Ingredients
- 3 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
- 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
- 1 cup water
- 1 1/2 cups freshly squeezed lemon juice (about 8–10 lemons)
- 1 tablespoon lemon zest
Instructions
- Make the raspberry syrup. Combine raspberries, sugar, and water in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir occasionally and bring to a gentle boil, mashing the raspberries as they soften, about 8–10 minutes.
- Strain. Pour the raspberry mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into a bowl or large measuring cup, pressing the solids with the back of a spoon to extract all the juice. Discard the seeds and pulp.
- Add lemon. Stir the fresh lemon juice and lemon zest into the warm raspberry syrup. Mix well to combine.
- Cool and store. Allow the concentrate to cool to room temperature, then transfer to a sealed jar or pitcher. Refrigerate for up to two weeks, or process in a water bath canner in half-pint jars for 10 minutes for shelf storage.
- To serve. Mix 1 part concentrate with 3–4 parts cold water or sparkling water, adjusting to taste. Serve over ice.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 115 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 2mg