Raspberry Rhubarb Jam

Labor Day passed without ceremony, which is how I prefer it. Cole and Tara drove up for the weekend and we grilled one last time before the season turned, and by Sunday evening the light was already doing that September thing — coming in lower and more golden, landing on things at an angle that makes even ordinary objects look like they're being photographed. I always feel September before I see it.

The manuscript is where all my spare hours are going now. November is not far away, and I have five chapters left to write. I pulled up the outline on Monday morning and did the math — about two thousand words per week on top of regular farrier work, which is tight but possible. I've been working on the fall chapter, which turns out to be about anticipation: the way October announces itself in August, the way every September decision is made with November in mind. The season teaches you to think in compound time.

My elk tags came back positive — Unit 410, rifle season opening in late October. I got the tags in June and have been quietly planning around them since. The horses know something is coming; they get restless in September in the particular way that always precedes a change in air mass. Even the domesticated ones remember something ancestral about this month.

Patrick's next neurology appointment is in two weeks. The Parkinson's is slow-moving — has been since the diagnosis — but slow-moving isn't the same as standing still, and the morning tremor has been more pronounced since July. He doesn't volunteer information about how he's feeling, but I can read him in the way you can read a place you've lived in long enough: by small changes in what he does and doesn't do.

End-of-summer pasta on Monday with the last of the garden tomatoes, barely cooked, tossed with olive oil and basil and pasta water. The tomatoes were warm from the sun and fell apart at the suggestion of heat. First of September and last of summer, both in the same bowl. I ate it standing over the sink and thought: this is one of the things the book is about.

That bowl of pasta — tomatoes barely cooked, olive oil, basil — was one of the last real harvests from the garden this year, and it got me thinking about the other thing I do when I feel summer running out: I make jam. There’s something almost stubbornly hopeful about putting up a jar of raspberry rhubarb jam in late August or early September, like you’re arguing with the calendar. The process is quiet and requires your full attention in exactly the way the manuscript and the elk tags and the appointment in two weeks do not — and for an hour, that’s enough. This is the recipe I come back to every year when the light starts doing that September thing.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 3 half-pint jars (about 48 tablespoons)

Ingredients

2 cups fresh or frozen raspberries
2 cups rhubarb, trimmed and chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
2 cups granulated sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon unsalted butter (optional, to reduce foaming)

Instructions

Combine fruit and sugar. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the raspberries, rhubarb, and sugar. Stir to coat evenly. Let the mixture sit for 10 minutes until the sugar begins to draw out the juices.
Add lemon and bring to a boil. Stir in the lemon juice and lemon zest. Place the pan over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until the sugar is fully dissolved and the mixture reaches a rolling boil.
Cook down the jam. Reduce heat to medium and continue cooking, stirring often, for 20—25 minutes. Skim any foam from the surface as needed (or stir in the optional butter to reduce foaming). The jam is ready when it coats the back of a spoon and a small amount placed on a cold plate wrinkles when pushed with a finger.
Test for set. To test doneness, place a small spoonful on a chilled plate and return it to the freezer for 1 minute. If it gels and holds its shape when nudged, the jam is set.
Jar and store. Ladle the hot jam into clean, sterilized half-pint jars, leaving 1/4-inch headspace. Wipe the rims clean, seal with lids, and process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes for shelf-stable storage, or allow to cool and refrigerate for up to 3 weeks.

Nutrition (per serving, 1 tablespoon)

Raspberry Rhubarb Jam — Putting Up the Last of Summer Before It's Gone