The boys and my Mum picked a ton of blackberries while we were visiting, so we came home with a big boxful. I rooted through the recipe books and found a Nigella Lawson Blackberry Galette recipe which sounded tempting.
I was just about to get stuck in when I realized I had no polenta for the pastry. Eek - Sunday evening, not a shop open, so I decided to make a batch of coulis instead. And then a wild impulse overtook me. Jam, must make jam. Or rather jelly, because those blackberries were a bit pippy.
Never mind that I'd never made jam before and I had no preserving sugar. Pectin, schmectin I said to myself - read 3 recipes and came up with my own. A pint of strained juice from the fruit, juice of half a lemon and a pound of sugar. Bubble, bubble, 106 degrees and Bob's your uncle.
It worked! And it set. And it tastes good. And I feel smugly domestic-goddess-like every time I glance at the jar.
Did I mention that my Mum's favourite blackberrying patch is in the local cemetery? She maintains the fruit from there is free of dog pee and traffic pollution. Who am I to argue.