The Day I Proved Sure-Jell WRONG

A few weekends ago, my Mom and Dad came to see us for a few days. The kids, of course, loved seeing them- especially because they've become conditioned to expect MawMaw to arrive with cupcakes and for PawPaw to buy them donuts for breakfast in the mornings. How these traditions started, I'm not quite sure. But I get to reap the sugar coated benefits, so I'm not complaining. 

A while back I'd mentioned to Mom that I'd like to have her show me how to make homemade jelly. I'd seen my Grandmaw Elaine (her Mom) make homemade jelly a ton growing up. However, when you're seven years old, you pay more attention to licking the jelly froth off the spoon than you do to the actual jelly making part of the process.  

So, Mom arrived with some plum juice from plums she'd just picked that week. SCORE. She brought a 25 pound bag of sugar, boxes of Sure-Jell (yeah right), some new wax lids, rings and a crate of Mason jars. To the untrained eye, we had all the necessary equipment needed to make up half a dozen batches of some really good, really delicious, really authentic homemade jelly. "What could go wrong?", I thought. 

{Famous last words, y'all.}

We got the first batch cooked and finished under Mom's watchful tutelage and I was pleasantly surprised to see how smoothly it was going. The kids were begging her to sit down and watch a movie with them, so I felt confident in my ability to man the next batch solo. And that's where I made my first HUGE mistake. If you're a novice like me, don't try to make homemade jelly by yourself. It's not going to end well. I promise. If you get too big for your britches, you'll end up with a dozen jars of Plum Syrup like I did. (King Solomon knew what he was talking about when he wrote Proverbs 16:18... because I'm pretty sure he probably tried to make jelly once before, too.) 

So Mom sat down, happily watching Brave with the kids while I briskly stirred my soon-to-be-boiling plum juice, feeling quite industrious and rather proud of myself. As I stirred, I thought back to the times growing up when I saw my Grandmaw Elaine making jelly in her kitchen. I remembered this same exact "hot-steamy-boiling-fruit-juice" smell. Except now, instead of that scent coming from her kitchen, that smell was coming now from mine. My little sentimental heart was so full. 

I got a little misty eyed as I remembered her. I can still see her, standing at her stove with her apron on and a long handled spoon in her hand. She was stirring and talking and teaching me how to tell if the jelly was done by holding up the spoon horizontally and waiting to watch if the drops would hold to the back or not. So I took a brief, 7.5 minute walk down memory lane while I waited for my juice to boil. The big kids were settled in with Mom to watch Merida choose her own fate and Nathan was napping. "I really think I'm gonna do an alright job at this." I thought. If I only knew... When the juice came to a boil I added my sugar to the pot and stirred some more while I waited for it to come to another, rolling boil. 

After I got the sugar stirred into the boiling juice, I found my way back onto memory lane for a while. It felt good to me, as an adult, to be doing an activity in my kitchen that I'd seen done in my Grandmaw's kitchen so many years earlier as a little girl. I think that food, that cooking, really, can do that for us. I think that recipes, that those traditions can help bind us tightly together as a family. I thing that handed down pots and pans and spoons can help connect us to our past generations in ways that can only be found in front of a stove.

 When you're standing in front of a range, stirring a pot that used to sit on your Grandmaw's stove, with a spoon that your Mom used in your childhood kitchen, it's as if, that for just a moment, those objects can connect you all together. It doesn't matter where you are- if you're just separated geographically or even farther away than just a physical address: for that brief moment you feel like you are all together. I know that happened to me that day. Because, for a few minutes, my kitchen smelled just like my Grandmaw's did all those years ago.  

My kitchen looks vastly different than my Mom's and even more unlike the one my Grandmaw cooked in. Yet, despite these generational differences, despite the technological changes that have taken place in the last 30 years, given a few of the same tools, some fruit juice, a couple cups of sugar, a box of Mason jars and a pouch of pectin, and they are still the same. Cooking, unlike so many other things that change with time, is a constant. It is a method that can be handed down from generation to generation without fail. The scent of boiling jelly will always smell like my Grandmaw's kitchen to me. And, in 30 years, that same scent might remind Josie of what my kitchen smelled like when she was growing up.  

So... back to reality. My jelly is now boiling. IN A BIG WAY. It's time for me to take the pot off the heat and skim off the foam before I need to ladle the now cooked jelly into jars. I'm not feeling quite as confident in my ability to fly solo for this part, so I call Mom in from the living room for a little moral support. 

She comes back into the kitchen to watch me try not to burn myself and to offer me necessary words of encouragement/advice/caution as she sees fit. As she walks up to the stove, she asks me an immediately terrifying question in response to her quick visual scan of the items on my countertop. "Did you add in the pectin, Katie?" I stood there, blankly, staring at her like she'd just spoken to me in Mandarin. "Umm... PECTIN???" 

::And that is when it all went South, y'all.:: 

Gone are the wistful memories of generations connected by cooking. Vanished are all the warm, fuzzy feelings I had about connecting three generations of women in my kitchen because, I realized with horror that I didn't add the pectin to my jelly. (If you've never made jelly before, pectin is what MAKES YOUR JELLY JELL. Without pectin, you're basically just boiling a big pot of fruit/sugar. You'll get fruit syrup. Which is delicious, don't get me wrong, but it ain't jelly.) 

I scrambled and searched and located the Sure-Jell insert and read hastily until I got to the section where there was a section titled "What To Do If Your Jelly Doesn't Set". BINGO. This is what I need. The insert said to add in extra sugar and return to a second boil, and to pray that your jelly will jell. (That last part wasn't on the insert. I just added that on my own accord. Because that's what I felt like I needed to do.) 

So, that's just exactly what I did. I added in the forgotten pectin, about 17.4 extra cups of sugar, and prayed. And stirred. And prayed. And stirred. And prayed some more. And stirred even more. I brought it up to a THIRD boil, and boiled it for what felt like 36 agonizing minutes, took it off the heat, skimmed off the foam, (Which is the BEST part of jelly making, if you ask me. Tasting that bowl full of lagniappe sugar/fruit foam is DELICIOUS.) ladled it into jars, wiped the tops and threads, covered it with the hot wax lid, screwed on the ring.... And waited. Anxiously. Like a woman who's a week past her due date in the middle of summer in Florida. (Because I've done that. Twice.) 

I washed the pots and bowls and spoons and got ready to cook the next batch while I waited to see if the jelly would jell. I finished up these little chores and I tilted a jar to the side- It was still runny. I wiped the stray drips off my stove top and checked it again- It was still runny. I gathered up the trash, straightened up the countertop and checked it again- IT WAS STILL RUNNY. At that point, I waved the white flag on that batch, transferred it to cool on my dining room table and got ready to start the next batch. Life went on, and so did the jelly making.

We made three other batches of jelly that day, and I'm proud to say that they all set up PERFECTLY. So, in my mind, to mess up one batch out of five on my first time ever making jelly as an adult- I can't be mad at that. Mom and I had a great day. We laughed and talked and tasted so much jelly that we were both sugar sick by the end of it all. And now I've got two boxes underneath my bed full of (mostly jelled) homemade jelly waiting to be eaten. And, considering that I make at minimum 20 PB&J's a week, I'd say that they will all be put to good use. {Thanks for sharing Grammy's tradition with me, Mom. I can't wait to cook our next batch!} 

Canning jelly isn't easy. Especially when you've got three small kids in the house. It's not something that I think I'll be able to do every month, but it is something that I'm glad I can do. And, as the kids get a little older, it's something that I know I'll be able to do more of. And it will help to connect me to the women in my family. I'll be able to cook a batch of jelly and remember my Mom. My Grandmaw Elaine. And so many other women in my family that have helped shape me into the woman I am today.

So, if you've got a handed-down recipe in your box that you've been anxious but maybe a little intimidated to try- let me give you some advice: TRY IT! Are you intimidated because of the number of steps it has or the amount of work it will require? Are you worried that you'll fail? Don't! You won't always cook every recipe perfectly the first time you try, but here's a secret: NEITHER DID YOUR GRANDMAW. AND NEITHER DID YOUR AUNT. AND NEITHER DID YOUR MOM. They practiced and cooked and tasted and tried their recipes loads of times before they got it right. So you can, too! 

I've got several heirloom recipes that I want to fix, namely a recipe for Cream Pie that my Nanny gave to me back at Christmas time last year. Her's were always the best, and I'm confident mine won't come out just exactly like her's, but I hope I can get pretty close with a couple practice trials. And, once I master her Cream Pie, next in line is her Homemade Divinity. Because successfully making candy is on my bucket list. And I can't wait to try it. Wish me luck!

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

(Pre-jelly. The soon-to-be-boiling goodness of fresh fruit juice.)

(Thassa whole lotta shugah.)

(25 pounds, to be exact.)

(Quick and Easy? LIES.)

(The most important section I referenced all day was at the bottom of that page. It also validated me in my mistakes because it meant that there are probably thousands of other women out there who had jelly that didn't set. Hooray for not being the only one!)

(Lagniappe jelly froth. Swiped from the spoon and onto my finger. Because I'm still 7 years old when it comes to jelly froth. I can't resist it. My kids loved it too.)

(Getting ready to pour the Plum syrup into jars. I was praying on the inside.)

(I will savor every.single.spoonful.)