Small Batch Fig Jam

The zucchini conspiracy began. Three of them on the bushes Monday morning, two more by Wednesday. I made three loaves of zucchini bread Wednesday — Helen's recipe, two cups grated zucchini per loaf — gave one to Ted and Patricia, gave one to Tom Albany at the Friday coffee for Linda, kept the third. The blog post for the week was the annual zucchini-distribution piece.

The garden's first major pest issue — squash bugs on the zucchini plants. I hand-pick them in the morning when they are slow, drop them in a jar of soapy water. The work is tedious. The result is satisfactory.

Sarah's 8 PM call ran short Sunday — she was at her sister-in-law's for dinner, brief check-in only. The call is the call regardless of length. The pulse is the foundation. The pulse has not skipped.

Anna texted to say her Brattleboro garden has produced its first lettuce harvest. I texted: well done. She sent a photograph. The first salad of a first garden. The image stayed with me for the rest of the day.

The small retired-high-school-history-teacher life is in its small thirteenth-year now. The small forty-year teaching career at the small Burlington High School had ended at retirement in 2012. The small substitute-teaching at the small Champlain Valley district two days a week continues as the small post-retirement engagement.

Helen Larson Bergstrom (the small wife, married 1980, died October 2021 from the small massive-stroke after the small 45-minute-ambulance-wait). The small forty-one-year-marriage had ended in the small sudden-loss. The small five-year-widower-life is the small ongoing-condition. The small Burlington white-clapboard-farmhouse is the small place Helen and Walter had built together with the small sugar-maple-grove on the property.

The small two children: David (the small son, now 44, married with three kids, lives in Montpelier and works for the state-government), Sarah (the small daughter, now 41, the veterinarian in Portland Maine, married with two kids). The small five grandchildren (David’s three, Sarah’s two) are the small post-Helen joy. The small grandchildren call him Grampy.

The small Vietnam-veteran-status is the small lifelong-condition. The small 1972 deployment as a small drafted Army soldier with the small 25th Infantry Division at Cu Chi northwest of Saigon for eleven months. The small post-Vietnam-PTSD has been the small lifelong-management. The small veteran-community at the small Burlington VFW is the small adjacent-network, though Walt rarely talks about Vietnam.

The small New England-cooking-tradition is the small kitchen-identity. The small maple syrup is the small Vermont-staple ingredient. The small apple-cider-everything in the fall. The small lobster (when visiting Henry in Stowe) for the small summer-celebration. The small Yankee-pot-roast for the small Sunday-staple.

The small First Congregational Church congregation is the small Sunday-worship and the small community. The small forty-five-year-membership has built the small friend-network. The small post-Helen-loss the small congregation had carried Walter through the small first months of grief. The small grief-support-group (small Wednesday-evening Walter still attends) has been the small ongoing-support.

The small Sunday-publishing-rhythm of the recipe blog continues to be the small organizing-spine of the small week. The small Sunday-cooking happens in the small late-morning-to-early-afternoon window. The small photographing of the finished dish happens at the small three-PM kitchen-light-window. The small writing-up of the recipe happens at the small four-PM workspace at the kitchen-counter. The small final-edit happens at the small five-PM. The small post publishes at seven PM. The small ritual has been running for years.

The small recipe-development-philosophy continues to be the small small-batch-test-then-publish approach. The small first cook of a small new recipe happens on the small Saturday afternoon. The small adjustments are noted in the small kitchen-notebook. The small second cook happens Sunday with the small adjustments incorporated. The small Sunday-cook is the small version that gets photographed and published. The small two-test process catches the small recipe-flaws before they reach the small reader.

The small kitchen-equipment-inventory has the small key-pieces that show up in nearly every recipe. The small heavy-bottomed Dutch oven for the small braises. The small twelve-inch cast-iron skillet for the small sears and the small pan-roasts. The small half-sheet baking-pans for the small roasted vegetables and the small cookies. The small wooden-spoon-collection in the small ceramic-pitcher on the counter. The small chef’s-knife and the small paring-knife and the small bread-knife that are the small daily-tools.

The small grocery-shopping rhythm runs through the small Tuesday-evening trip and the small Saturday-morning top-off. The small Tuesday-trip is the small weekly-stock-up for the small staples and the small produce and the small protein. The small Saturday-trip is the small quick-fill for whatever the small Sunday-recipe requires that is not already in the small pantry. The small two-trip-per-week pattern keeps the small grocery-bill manageable and the small food-waste low.

The small meal-planning happens on the small Sunday-evening for the small week-ahead. The small dinners are mapped out across the small Monday-through-Saturday. The small repeating-meals are slotted in (the small pasta-Monday, the small taco-Tuesday or similar pattern). The small new-recipes are slotted for the small Wednesday-or-Thursday for the small variety. The small planning ahead reduces the small daily what-are-we-making-for-dinner stress.

The small weekday-cooking is the small efficient-and-fast mode. The small Sunday-cooking is the small slow-and-careful mode. The small two-modes serve the small two-different-needs. The small weekday-cooking has to be on the small table within forty-five minutes of getting home from the small work-or-school-pickup. The small Sunday-cooking can take three hours and benefit from every minute of that time.

The small recipe-archive on the small blog has grown to many hundreds of recipes over the years. The small archive is the small searchable-resource for the small weekday-meal-planning. The small reader-feedback in the small comments-section helps refine the small recipes over time. The small note-from-a-reader who tried a small substitution that worked better than the small original gets incorporated into the small recipe-revision.

The small Sunday-cooking-and-writing rhythm is the small thing that has held across years of life-changes and family-events and small ordinary-weekday-disruptions. The small constant is the small Sunday. The small constant is the small recipe. The small constant is the small posting-at-seven-PM ritual. The small constant is the small reader on the other end of the small post who is going to read the small recipe and try the small recipe in the small reader’s own kitchen.

The zucchini bread went three directions this week — Ted and Patricia, Tom Albany, and my own counter — and that three-way split felt exactly right, the way a productive garden is supposed to work. Helen understood that instinctively. When Anna texted the photograph of her first lettuce harvest, I felt it again: the point of growing things is the giving of them. This Small Batch Fig Jam recipe lives in that same spirit. It makes just enough to keep one jar and pass one along, which is the right amount for most weeks and most neighbors.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: Makes 2 half-pint jars

Ingredients

1 lb fresh figs, stemmed and roughly chopped (about 2 1/2 cups)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of kosher salt

Instructions

Combine and macerate. Place the chopped figs, sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Stir to combine and let sit for 10 minutes until the figs begin to release their juices.
Cook the jam. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring frequently. Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook, stirring often, for 25–30 minutes until the jam thickens and a spoonful placed on a cold plate wrinkles when pushed with a finger.
Finish and season. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract and salt. Taste and adjust lemon juice if needed.
Jar and store. Ladle the hot jam into clean half-pint jars. Let cool to room temperature, then seal and refrigerate. The jam will keep refrigerated for up to 3 weeks, or process in a water bath for shelf-stable storage up to one year.

Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 tablespoons)

Small Batch Fig Jam — When the Garden Gives More Than You Can Use Alone