HERB BENHAM: My pomegranate jelly just didn't jell
| Monday, Nov 23 2009 05:36 PM
Last Updated Monday, Nov 23 2009 05:36 PM
Loading Stories
Advertisement
Last week I made some pomegranate jelly. It turned out really, really purple.
The pomegranates weren't mine. I have a tree. Last winter, I pruned it. I went deep.
"You know, you're cutting off all the fruit wood," said my neighbor Rob, who calls himself a farmer.
Fruitwood? Fruitwood is overrated. Fruit wood is for fruit cakes.
Spring came. There wasn't one bloom. The tree was green, thick and had never looked better but I had turned a sweet pomegranate tree into the fruitless variety.
"You know, I think your crop is going to be a little light this year," Rob said. "Maybe we can pin some pomegranates to the branches."
What would we do without neighbors? Their support. Their ideas.
Fortunately, friends felt bad. Larry Reider, the former school superintendent, dropped off a bag of pomegranates. He had bushels. He was an admirer of fruit wood. Evidently, he and Rob were co-conspirators in this whole fruitwood thing.
Last Sunday, I juiced the pomegranates in the backyard. I set up a six-foot table. Took out my pomegranate press. Sliced the pomegranates into quarters, stuck them one-by-one in the press and brought down the handle and squeezed tight.
I filled a large gallon Mason jar with beautiful purple juice. It was the color of love. I've seen wedding tuxedos that weren't that purple.
Time to make jelly. Recipe? Don't need one. Recipes are for rookies. Recipes and fruitwood are from the same tree of indecision.
Recipes are suggestions. "Try this, it might work. However, make sure you let creativity and feel be your guide." Intuition and confidence are about 85 percent of good cooking.
I'd made pomegranate jelly last year. I remembered how. The ingredients were simple:
Pomegranate juice, lemon juice, pectin and sugar. This is not Thomas Keller, the French Laundry and a 14-course meal.
I poured the pomegranate juice into a large pot and brought it to "an angry boil" -- one that could not be stirred down. I added the lemon juice, pectin and sugar. I didn't get fussy about it, I just added them. When it felt right.
I stirred for a minute or so, let it cool slightly and then ladled the juice into jars that had spent half an hour submerged in a pot of boiling water.
The jars of pomegranate jelly looked great. I love cooking. Pomegranate jelly was a snap. I could have done this in my sleep.
I put the 10 jars of jelly in the outside fridge. The jelly had to cool and set up. Twelve hours from now, it would be perfect.
The next morning it was time for the victory lap. My toast was ready. I took a jar of purple, delicious jelly from the fridge. Unscrewed the top. Stuck in a spoon and got ready for a taste treat extravaganza.
The jelly was not jelly. It was juice. It made water look thick. I had made 10 jars of pomegranate water.
"Use it over ice cream," Google suggested to failed pomegranate jelly makers. "Pour it over pancakes like syrup."
Syrup? Mine wasn't that thick. What I had made syrup look like heavy crude. If I had poured my "jelly" on pancakes, I'd have pancake soup.
I went to the store and bought two more boxes of pectin. It was either that or ask my neighbor to pin some pomegranates on the tree. No doubt, he'd be happy to oblige.
***
The Pie Run is Thursday. First light (6 a.m.) at Hart Park (east end). Bring a pie, cookies, fruit, something to drink. In other words contribute.
You can walk, run or just enjoy the fall beauty in the park. Afterwards, everybody huddles around a real wood fire munching, drinking and talking.
It's a great way to start Thanksgiving. Some exercise, conversation and light breakfast.
