apricot jam Archives - attheitaliantable.com

I thought I was finished with apricots but the season just won’t quit. In the midwest they call it a “bumper crop.” I didn’t even know there WAS an apricot tree right outside my bedroom window, and I’ve lived in this house for 10 years. It’s never had so much fruit on it before, but this year it beams bright orange from the moment I open my eyes in the morning. It makes me nervous to see so much free fruit I can’t reach. So I found a way into the garden…

After two disappointing attempts at apricot jam, one of which burned and the other which rendered a deep orange apricot sauce, that I’m sure will be lovely on vanilla ice cream, I started talking to the natives and I finally learned the secret to preserving this fruit.

Not as easy and straight forward as other fruits, the apricot when cooked and stirred will dissolve into a texture-less puree that burns extremely easily. As I mentioned in a previous blog, after burning several pounds of apricots, I began to talk to the women in my village and ask how they made their “marmelata di albicocche” (jellies and jams are all lumped under the term “marmelata”, which we translate as marmalade.)

The secret is never to stir the apricots. Never. You put them in a heavy pot on a low to medium fire, put the sugar and pectin on top and you let them cook. You must never put spoon to mixture. Eventually the sugar melts into the syrup. As the syrup boils and bubbles, you test it every now and then by putting a small amount on a plate and when it cools to a jelly-like consistency, you put it in jars.

What I find so hysterical is that everyone in this village knows you don’t stir apricots! From the cashier at the grocery store to the bank teller to the guy who pumps gas, it’s common knowledge! I would casually mention how I had a humongous sack of apricots and didn’t want to attempt jam again because I’d burned it and they all said “E’ perche l’hai girato!” It’s because you stirred it!

Apparently when they raise kids here they teach them: Don’t talk to strangers, Look both ways before crossing the street, and Don’t stir the apricot jam.

So I got the big pot out again and nervously tried it, resisting the urge to stir or push the apricots down, and they were right: not stirring the apricots renders them whole and plump, swimming in a lovely clear apricot flavored gel. I scooped the jam into jars, eagerly anticipating the bottom of the pan and to my surprise, it was perfectly clean! I’m going to try the same thing with plums next month.

I wonder what else these Tuscans know that they’re not telling me….

I passed the tree loaded with bright orange apricots for two weeks before I rang the bell to inquire. When I saw that the fruit was starting to drop to the ground, I could hold back no longer. In the wide open on a main street, just at the end of my road, I wasn’t going to be able to steal them, I was going to have to ask.

The young man who rents the house had no interest in the apricots and was more than happy to allow me to pick them. I promised him a jar of jam in exchange for the tons of apricots I was planning to take away. The fruit this year has been exceptional and this particular tree had more apricots than leaves.

I borrowed a ladder and picked until my sack broke. Then I went home and got a sturdier sack. And a basket. By the end of an hour I had more than I could carry home. I was going to need more jars. In anticipation of all the beautiful orange jam I was going to give as gifts, I loaded up on jars and lids, sugar and lemons, got out the big jam pot and started halving the fruit.

Actually making that jam turned out to be more difficult than I imagined. With fruit jam I normally just weigh the fruit and mix it with half that amount of sugar, then add the juice of a lemon. Most fruit has at least a small amount of pectin, which helps it to gel, but usually I’ll add strips of lemon and wild apple peel, both of which are loaded with pectin.

I don’t like using industrial pectin that you buy in the store, I like the fruit to cook until the natural pectin in the fruit and sugar causes it to set up and the water in the fruit cooks off. This often entails cooking the jam for 30-60 minutes until the juices are thick enough to set.

But apricots have no natural pectin of their own and the lemon peel I added had no effect. Then the apricots stuck to the bottom of the pot and burned; the whole batch tasted scorched and had to be thrown out. I scrubbed the pot and started over, stirring the second batch more frequently. It seemed that no matter how long it cooked, it was still too watery to be called jam. The constant stirring seemed to keep the temperature down, which wasn’t good, but if I stopped stirring even for a minute it started to stick. It tasted good so I eventually put it in jars and labeled it “apricot sauce”.

It was late when I finished, but I wasn’t satisfied and wanted to know what I’d done wrong. I got online and saw that other people had the same problem with scorching. I read Harold McGee’s Food and Cooking book to better understand the science of pectin. Then I turned to my Tuscan friends to get the real scoop on the best way to make jam from apricots. What I learned was astounding.

The secret is never to stir the mixture.

In the evening, clean and half the apricots. Weigh them, put them in a large pot with half their weight in sugar poured on top, cover them and put them aside. No stirring. The next morning put the pot on the stove on a medium heat, uncover them and let them cook until the juice gels when cool. You must walk away from it and allow it to do its thing, adding a little lemon juice towards the end. And never stir it.

That tree is still half covered with apricots. I think I see another duel with the jam pot, but this time I’m ready.

Apricot Redux

Apricot Jam and my long day’s journey into night