Who would have guessed that making jam–with berries picked from the side of a highway–would bring back such wonderful memories for me.
What would I eat with my jam? I thought about this as I cycled in gym class the morning after I made it. Toast? Scones? Crumpets? Crumpets…alas I would have to make them. So English muffins will have to do.
Jam made me think of scones with cream and tea with my dear friends Brenda and Jackson Yap, when on a whim, they convinced me to “just come” and join them and their daughter Nicolette in Cambridge, Britain. What an impulsive trip.
Scones remind me of our days in Sydney, Australia when my friends invited me for tea. They call them “sc-awns.” They taught me to drink my tea with milk, no sugar. They also taught me how to brew tea properly.
Most of all, jam and toast breakfasts reminded me of my teen days, when Mum took us and a family friend to Cameron Highlands, a mountain resort in Perak, Malaysia to an English-cottage resthouse called the Smokehouse Inn where I first experienced the coziness of a fireplace, away from the cold mountain air, right in the middle of tropical Malaya. So this was how life was for English people, I thought.
As if this was not enough to show me what colonial pampering was like, this family friend also took us to visit a couple who lived in a oil palm plantation in the state of Johore. Palm oil come from the fruit of the oil palm, which is widely cultivated in Malaysia. We drove through one of those plantations, surrounded only by thick groves of the stubby palms with chunky trunks, curved palm leaves and luscious, low hanging red fruit.
Like rubber plantations, these places stretch on for miles, and if you’ve spent only a few hours in one of them, you’ll be lucky if you survive the annoying heat and even more irritating mosquito bites. I expected to see an attap hut or two, but there was none of those. We drove along the bumpy road, far off from the main road, approached a hill and came to a beautiful bungalow, which overlooked the acres and acres of oil palm.
Who would have thought there would be this spacious, well-kept enclave in the middle of nowhere. We entered the house and it was cool, air-conditioned cool. That experience was in the 1960s. Today, recollecting this is like watching an old 1950’s movie. Or reading something from Rudyard Kipling.
I can’t remember the hosts but I do remember being overwhelmed by their graciousness and welcome. Even then I marveled at having that rare glimpse of the lifestyle of these people who ran these giant plantations.
Quite distinctly I remember being served crumpets, jam and tea because it was the first time I ate crumpets. And it was tea served in fine English tradition, teacups in saucers, tea from a teapot, linen napkins, sugar lumps. The British sure know how to enjoy tea, not just the beverage, the dining. (Today in Singapore, there are still places that serve tea–or tiffin!–the Downton Abbey way.) We may not have completely left our colonial past; some lovely traditions are hard to give up.
Bearing those treasured memories in mind, I decided to treat myself to breakfast on my deck, making myself a tray with English muffins, butter and homemade mulberry jam. And coffee. We’re American.
Mum would have LOVED it. My father always stayed home on Sunday mornings when we would all have a rather formal breakfast with toast, half boiled eggs and sliced orange. He had to have his butter cut just-so, in a slab about a quarter inch thick. But Mum loved it when her butter was curled. Ever the collector of gadgets she taught me to use one of those butter curlers to curl my butter. So there is it, Mum.
About the jam, that was what I decided to do with the mulberry that we had foraged from the side of the road. Half our harvest had been happily eaten. I had only slightly more than one cup left. Jam would be easy to make; I sure didn’t need another dessert.
Making jam took about 10-15 minutes. Or so many recipes taught. It’s fun to get in to. You even get your finger all red and gross from picking the stems out.
After the cleaning, all it took was adding lemon zest, lemon juice to the fruit and cooking it with sugar. So I got cooking right away.
Then I read about the canning bit. Wait…you have to vacuum seal the jars? Which got me stuck in process for a while. Almost all the recipes called for canning. And that meant sealing them with mason jars, and bringing them to a boil. Well, the two mason jars in my pantry probably have uneven seals. One is way too big for my measly cup of jam. And I was loathe to run to the store to get mason jars I have no need for. And I was even less enthusiastic about boiling and canning.
Why would I need to can it? Common sense told me that you would need to vacuum seal only if you made a big pot of jam and bottled several bottles of jam that you want to keep on a shelf without refrigeration.
I made barely one cup which I plan to eat right away. Bah! Forget the canning. I’ve risked eating this wild berry that two days ago I didn’t know what it was. I’m cooking this thing to a pulp. With sugar. Sugar was the means people preserved food. Nah, no vacuum sealing for me.
So I tried this recipe below. Took me less than 20 minutes to make but gave me and Ted hours of breakfast luxury for days after.
Mulberry Jam
Preparation time: 5 minutes
Cooking time: 10-15 minutes
1½ cups mulberry, stem picked off
Grated rind from a lemon
Juice from 1 lemon
¾ cups sugar
Place fruit in small saucepan. Add zest and lemon juice and heat over high heat.
Add sugar and stir to dissolve. Mash fruit with spoon or potato masher. (I didn’t completely mashed the berries because I prefer preserves, having chunks of fruit in my jam.)
Simmer for about 10 minutes until fruit is soft and pulpy. Set aside to cool completely.
Store in jar. Cover and refrigerate overnight before using. Keep in refrigerator after using.
