Strawberrys have begun, which means hoarding for Strawberry black pepper jam

The strawberries are in. And you’d think I’d go and just grab one and pop it in my mouth, wouldn’t you? Just one sweet, warm little berry. It’s what any reasonable person would do. But I haven’t. Not even one. Each morning I carefully move the leaves to find the treasures hidden beneath. And the horrors as well—turns out slugs have a taste for sweet warm berries as well. More than one has been lost to their unending sucking—those pock-marked berries are quickly tossed to the chickens (all the better if the slug is still attached). So. Really. Even the chickens have had more taste of berries than me. Why you ask. Isn’t the worker worth his wages? Shouldn’t the shoe maker have his shoes? Yes. I will. But first things first. And the very first thing those strawberries must make is my strawberry black pepper jam. You will see me at various places selling all kinds of jams and jellies. But not this one. Not this kind. This is made from the best, the sweetest little berries, and those berries have such a short season that there never seems to be enough. Now, I think there is. Each year I make double figuring this will surely be the year I don’t run out. I have not yet met that year. And so, now you see. Jam first. Sweet little berries later. Maybe. You would better understand if you were perched at a kitchen table some winter, with a warm-right-from-the-griddle sour dough waffle perched on your plate, slathered in strawberry black pepper jam. Oh, yes. Then you’d understand perfectly well that some things are worth waiting for.

And just so you don’t think I am a new kind of cruel, this is how it is made (so you can enjoy your own waffle during your own winter slathered with your very own jam).

It’s actually rather easy, really. You simply take the amount of fruit you have and add half that much sugar. So, let’s say we have ten cups of sweet little strawberries (washed and pureed lightly) to that is added five cups of sugar. Now. For the pepper. That’s to taste. I tend to like a bit of bite to mine, so the previously stated ten to five ratio would see me adding two tablespoons. Oh. Also, for preserving’s sake, for every two cups fruit, you’ll need a tablespoon of lemon juice. And, to keep all that film down, I add a small bit (think teaspoon for the 10/5 mixture) of either butter or virgin coconut oil. How it works, I have no idea, but it keeps me from wasting a whole lot of jam skimming it all off.

Now. All that is put in a pot and stirred continually until it gets to jelly stage—two hundred and twenty degrees. Once it’s reached that, the heat is turned off and if there is any film on the top, it’s skimmed off. The jam is ladled into steamed hot jars, lidded with their new little lids and if it’s a two piece job, the bands are applied as well and the whole thing put into a bubbling water bath and left in there for ten minutes, after which time they’re taken out and set on the counter to cool—usually undisturbed for eight hours or so. If some didn’t seal, you’re welcome to try the process again, or just put in your fridge and enjoy within ten days. I’m betting it won’t last one.