Scuppernong and Plum Jam

How do you make a house a home? By living in it? Not really. By making a future in it. Although you have to live for today, you also have to be looking forward. Tomorrow makes a house a home: the promise of a good meal, the joy of a coming dinner party, the anticipation of your child's recital, the fun of a Friday off to play in the leaves. In so many ways, home is a future-tense word. Because it's tied to hope.

That's why putting up jams and preserves can make a house a home. They're part of the framework of the future.

The other day, I was at Whole Foods in West Hartford and came across scuppernong grapes, those big grape globes, very sweet, native to the South, and reminiscent of my childhood. I bought a couple boxes, ready to relish that sweet/tart taste. (Home is also about the past--as Frederick Buechner writes: "You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.")

In the end, I could only eat so many. "And I'll miss them this winter," I said to Bruce.

He turned the rest into jam. And the future was a little clearer: jam on toast in the mornings.

First, he put 1 1/2 pounds scuppernong grapes and 1/2 pound pitted Italian prune plums in a pot with 1/2 cup water. He brought that mixture to a boil over high heat, then let it simmer over low heat for about 45 minutes, until everything was good and mushy. No need to get rid of those grape seeds. They'll add natural pectin to help the jam set.

While it was simmering away, he also measured out 3 3/4 cups sugar.

Now the tricky part: he ladled the hot fruit and juice in batches into a food mill set over a large bowl. He cranked and cranked to leave the seeds and skins behind but get all the pulp down into that bowl. He scraped the pits and seeds into the trash, added more, and cranked some more. When it was all done, he washed out the pot he'd been using, poured the pulpy juice back into it, and set it over medium-high heat to bring it to a simmer.

He then measured half a 1 3/4 ounce box of pectin and mixed it with 1 tablespoon of the sugar. He stirred that into the fruit and brought it back to a boil over medium heat. And not just any boil but one that cannot be stirred into stopping.

He poured in the remainder of the sugar and brought the thing back to a hard boil, again one that couldn't be stirred down. Once at that cauldron, he let it go for 2 minutes. He skimmed the foam with a large spoon, then poured the jam into sterilized jam bottles. (The picture is of the finished jam, waiting to be bottled.)

The best way to sterilize the jars and lids? Put them all in the dishwasher and run it through a light cycle without any soap but with the "heat dry" on. (You have to do this first, before you make the jam and then just have them waiting inside the sealed shut dishwasher.) Failing that, put the jars, sealing lids, and rings in a large pot of water and boil for 5 minutes.

Fill the jars to the bottom bump before the lid part begins. Wipe the rims clean with a kitchen towel, then set the sealing lids in place with the little adhesive strip against the glass rim. Screw on the ring lids and turn the jars upside down for 10 minutes so the super-hot jam inside seals them. Turn them over and wait for that ping to indicate the lids have sealed tight, sometimes up to 10 minutes. If any don't ping shut, a little dimple in the middle of the lid, put those in the fridge and eat them first--as well as any remainder jar that is not fully filled.

A home, the future. This winter, I'll have scuppernong jam on toast when the snow is deep. It will live in my heart, my mind, my stomach. And I'll be content.