One of the most powerful taste memories I have from my childhood years in Southern California is of freshly picked plums. My family’s home in Eagle Rock wasn’t particularly big on the inside, but sat on the flattest part of a extensive, terraced yard. We had three purple plum trees in the side and back yards, and every other year, they produced bumper crops of the most juicy, tender-fleshed plums I’ve ever eaten.

Several of the fruit-producing branches hung low enough for my seven year old self to pick the plums without parental aid and so during their season, I would entertain myself underneath the plum trees. I would pretend that I was Laura Ingalls, helping “Ma” by picking wild fruit into my little bent wood basket. My own mom would sometimes make runny jam with the plums I brought her, or just tuck one into our lunches.

This morning I reluctantly finished a jar of jam I made back in August. I’ve so enjoyed this particular batch, because it tasted so much like our LA plums. The tart flavor of the skin wasn’t obscured by the sugar and the clean, gentle flavor of the plum’s interior was perfectly present as well. Each bite was balanced, fresh and so, so summery.

I wish I had more of this batch, but the rest was given out as favors at our wedding. The only reason this jar stayed with me was that it didn’t seal (darn Quattro Stagioni jars) and so ended up in my fridge instead in the gift stash. I don’t regret that though. I’m actually delighted that so many of our friends and family ended up with jam from such a good batch.

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It seems that we’re finally heading into the waning days of winter. For those of you who spent some time canning last summer, what have been your favorite things to eat from your home canned stash? For me it has been this jam and all the tomatoes I did in those frantic spare moments before the wedding. Leave a comment, I’d love to hear about your winners!

Typically, Sunday nights are my fall-back position for these Dark Days meals. Waiting until then means that I have Saturday to hit the Rittenhouse Square farmers’ market and the Fairfood Farmstand and restock my week-ravaged pantry as well as most of the day to cook (if I decide to do something time-intensive).

However, I knew heading into this weekend that I wouldn’t be around on Sunday night to cook dinner (I’ll be in New York, having dinner with these two lovely ladies instead). And having sprinted through the week cooking several dinners that all included some local ingredients but weren’t all local, that left Saturday morning.

So I did what I’ve seen a lot of lately (at least on the Dark Days circuit). I made a local breakfast. And lo, it was good. I peeled and cubed some elderly potatoes (Winter Harvest) and tossed them with bacon grease (Meadow Run Farms), salt and pepper in a cast iron skillet. While they roasted, I gently scrambled six eggs (Winter Harvest) and made toast (baked with my own two hands, from a combination of local and non-local flours).

Scott immediately squirted ketchup on his eggs (Heinz Organic, which is at least headquartered, if not made, in the state) and I ate my toast with a few dabs of plum jam I made last summer (six months in the jar, it tastes so bright and summery). Then we went off to do a cooking demo at Foster’s Homewares, well-fed.

I am always looking for ways to use jam beyond spreading it on toast/pancakes/scones. Particularly the three jars of blackberry jam I’ve had in the back of the fridge since September 2008. They’re in the refrigerator, as opposed to on my shelf, because I didn’t process them and figured I’d use them quickly in a recipe. But being in the way back, I never did use them. Then I started to believe that they weren’t good anymore.

Finally, I pulled them out recently, only to discover that they had, in fact, sealed when I first made them (via the open kettle method) and were fine and totally delicious. Who knew!

Hamantaschen are fruit or jam-filled cooked that are traditionally made around Purim. Their triangle shape is said to mimic Haman’s hat (although, in Israel, they call them Haman’s ears). Haman was an enemy of the Jews, who was defeated by Queen Ester. Purim (a fun, celebratory holiday that combines aspects of Independence Day and Halloween) has already come and gone for this year, but there’s no need to wait for next year before making these cookies.

I’ve learned a few things about Hamantaschen, as I’ve made at least three batches in the last week, trying to get them right. The first is that I’m nearly incapable of getting the proportions perfect. You want plenty of cookie, in order to have enough dough to create a sufficient well for the spoonful of jam you heap in their center.

I can’t quite manage this (I cut too little cookie and add too much jam). Also, I somehow can’t catch the dough at the perfect point of chilled by yet still workable. However, I’ve discovered that even when I screw them up, they are still delicious. So maybe I’ll just keep making them until I get them right.

If you do any recipe searching, you’ll find that there are some recipes that call for yeast and some that don’t. I find that in terms of flavor, I like the the unyeasted dough better (they’re more like a sugar cookie). However, the texture of the yeasted cookie was more in keeping with the Hamantaschen I’ve eaten in the past (it was flaky and reminded me slightly of shortbread). I’ve included both recipes so that you can determine which style you prefer.

For another take on Hamantaschen, see Deena’s post on Mostly Foodstuffs. She used a recipe that incorporates cream cheese, and I imagine that it lends a really yummy richness that goes really well with jam.

Hamantaschen Dough (non-yeasted)
adapted from The Molly Goldberg Jewish Cookbook

3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 eggs (1 for the batter, 1 for the egg wash)
2 tablespoons orange juice
2 cups whole wheat pastry flour (you can use all purpose, I was shooting for a very slightly more healthful cookie)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

Dough must be made at least 24 hours before you want to bake the cookies, as it needs to be thoroughly chilled prior to rolling out, filling and baking.

In a stand mixer, or with a hand mixer, cream butter and sugar together. Add egg and orange juice and beat until combined. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Incorporate the dry ingredients into the wet in batches. Beat a stiff dough forms. Shape the dough into a ball, wrap it in plastic wrap and stash it in the refrigerator.

When the dough has chilled thoroughly and you’re ready to bake, remove the dough from the refrigerator. Preheat over to 350 degrees. Flour your board and rolling pin well and roll the dough until it is approximately 1/4 inch thick (too thin and the cookies will spread).

Using a biscuit cutter or drinking glass, cut the dough into rounds. Transfer the rounds onto a parchment or Silpat-lined cookie sheet. Fill with a scant 1/2 teaspoon of jam. Paint the edges of the cookie with the egg wash (whisk one egg with a tablespoon of water). Fold and pinch the edges into a triangle, making sure to seal them well so that no jam leaks out. Brush the cookies with a bit more of the egg wash, to give them a nice shine.

Bake for 10-12 minutes, until tops are a light golden brown.

Hamantaschen Dough (non-yeasted)
from my mother’s recipe collection, clipped from an unknown newspaper at least 30 years ago

Look! A gift of pickles and marmalade, straight from New York. So often I’m the one handing out jars of food, but today the tables were turned and I was handed a couple jars of lovely, handmade goodies (delicious McClure’s Pickles and jam from Anarchy in a Jar).

This gift of canned goods occurred over lunch at Reading Terminal Market’s Dutch Eating Place with Cathy Erway, of the blog Not Eating Out in New York. I’ve been reading her site for years now, so when she tweeted a couple of days ago that she was going to be in Philly and was interested in meeting up with a food blogger or two, I got in touch. Meeting fellow food bloggers is always a such pleasure, because so often there’s a shared language and ease of connection in the encounter (even when shouting over the din of Reading Terminal at the height of the lunch hour). This was certainly no exception.

Cathy was in town promoting her beautiful new book The Art of Eating In, a memoir drawn from her experiences cooking for herself (as well as friends) and avoiding restaurants. After our lunch, she was heading to WHYY to record an interview with A Chef’s Table (Philadelphians, I don’t know if she’ll be on this Saturday or next, so keep your ears peeled).

In other news, I’ll have a jam-filled hamantaschen recipe for you tomorrow, as well as a recipe for orange jelly coming sometime over the weekend.

A little after 12 noon today, I was sitting at work, responding to an email and contemplating lunch, when I saw that people were tweeting about the Saveur Best Food Blog Awards. I followed a link over to that site, logged in and began placing my votes. I was methodically working my way through the categories when my universe shifted every so slightly. I clicked on the page for the Best Special Interest Blog, scrolled down and spotted a familiar site (sight).

This site. My site. Food in Jars.

I think I incoherently chortled first. Then I mumbled a few choice words that my grandma Bunny would have called “work language.” There was a tweet too.

Earlier today, a co-worker asked me if it was true what they always say. Is it really good just to be nominated? So far, my answer is an unequivocal yes. I am delighted. Honored, in fact, that those arbiters of delectability at Saveur think that this blog is worth their attention.

However, as much fun as I’m having being nominated, I can’t help think that it might also be nice to win. If you’re interested in helping me find out what winning might feel like, you can go here to cast your vote (yes, you do have to sign up for a Saveur membership, but it’s fairly quick and quite painless). While you’re there, make sure to vote for the other categories as well. Some of my favorite blogs are up for awards as well, like Homesick Texan, Ezra Pound Cake and The Kitchn.

Oh, one more thing. So many thanks to all of you who come back day after day and read about my canning projects, Dark Days meals and sundry baking endeavors. I couldn’t do it without every one of you.

Earlier today, I got an email from a reader. After many months of anticipation, she had finally opened a jar of garlic dill pickles she made last summer, using the recipe I posted in August. Only they were far, far too spicy for her. She was afraid that she was going to have to throw out the entire batch.

Upon reading her email, I felt terrible. I never post a recipe that I haven’t tried, tested and truly appreciated. So to hear that someone has made something according to my instructions, only to find it inedible, deflates me. It also got me thinking about the way I approach the creation of the recipe. I write for my taste buds, using the ingredients I have in my kitchen. Thing is, no two palates are exactly alike, so there’s no absolute guarantee that what worked for me will be as delicious for another.

As we head into another canning season (I know so many of you are planning your gardens and signing up for CSA shares with your summer canning in mind), I’d like to encourage a bit more herb and spice exploration. This doesn’t mean that I endorse wild experimentation or grand recipe deviations, as we all know that to keep our canned goods safe, it’s important to keep our acid and sugar levels steady and adhere to the basics of the recipe.

But I do want you to know that it’s okay to gently tweak the spices. If you know that you can’t handle a great deal of heat in your food, please, please reduce the amount of chili or cayenne that the recipe calls for. If you’re a cinnamon fiend, feel free to increase the amount you include in your blueberry jam. Also, keep in mind that a small amount of spice can increase in flavor over time, so if you’re making something in July that you don’t plan on eating until February or March, adjust accordingly. Most of all, remember that you’re making those pickles or that chutney for you, and so the way it tastes should always, always please you.

Additionally, get to know your particular spice rack (they are all different). Sniff and taste your way through the bottles, making sure that you’re familiar with their potency. Toss the things that smell like dirt or nothing at all and replenish the stash before embarking on a big cooking project.

Going forward, I am going to try to write my recipes with this “season to taste” mindset. I will continue to tell you what I did, but I will also include notes at recipe points where variation and adjustments are okay. Because really and truly, my goal here is to show you all that canning is accessible and enjoyable. And if you end up with something you can’t eat, that defeats me.

I’m afraid that this week’s Dark Days meal contains some repeats. Delicious though they may be, you’ve seen me do roasted sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts before. Happily, I do have one new component to bring to the table. Mini turkey burgers.

Why mini? Well, I started cooking this meal thinking I was making meatballs. I stirred the ground turkey (from Meadow Run Farms) together with an egg (farmers market), some chopped onion (Winter Harvest), bread crumbs (a very stale heel from a loaf of no-knead I made like three weeks ago, pulsed in a food processor) and salt/pepper. However, I was heading to a meeting, and suddenly realized that I was super-short on time. So instead of carefully rolling 20+ meatballs, I divided the meat into nine rough handfuls and made these little patties.

They cooked up fast, were less fussy than meatballs when I was short on time and tasty. I also found that I really liked the mini-burgers. Portion-wise, they lent greater flexibility than my typical turkey burger (for Scott, one isn’t quite enough, but two is too much). We actually had some leftover protein which doesn’t always happen when I cook it in larger sizes.

In other locavore news, there was a terrific article in the Philadelphia Inquirer this Thursday about eating locally during the winter months. I must be the only Philadelphian doing the Dark Days challenge, because when it came to getting a quote about it, they turned to me. There are a number of good recipes included in the article that are geared towards those items which are currently available. I’m particularly interested in the one for Beet Halwa. I have all the ingredients needed to make in my fridge right now, so you may just see in it my Dark Days post next week.

For those of you who’ve been keeping track, you might have noticed that I missed getting a Dark Days post up last week. I’ve taken to waiting until the last minute to cook and record my all-local (or mostly local) meals and I just ran out of time (last Sunday was Scott’s birthday, so we ate food of his choosing and not a bit was local. However, I believe in flexibility when I comes to birthdays).

This week though, I got right back on the Dark Days wagon. I actually made this meal on Wednesday night, and we ate it all week long (truly, it was dinner for both of us on Wednesday and Thursday, and I finished it up on Friday night). It’s one of those dishes that is blessedly easy and can almost always be created from the contents of my pantry and freezer.

I’m fairly certain that most of you have your own version of a quick pantry pasta sauce, but here’s how I do mine. Heat up a big skillet and add a fat pat of butter or drizzle of olive oil (I used some local butter in attempt to play by the rules). Roughly chop one large or two small onions (from my Winter Harvest order) and add them to the pan. Let them cook for a few moments. When they’ve gained some color, create a well in the center of the onions and drop in one pound of ground beef (Meadow Run Farms). Use a wooden spatula to chop it up into crumbles. At this point, I also add some minced garlic, salt, pepper and dried oregano.

While the meat cooks, rinse a bundle of kale and chop it up into ribbons. Add it to the pan and stir to combine. If the kale is threatening to overflow the pan, reduce the heat a little and put a lid on it, to help it wilt down.

When the kale has wilted, stir it into the meat and onions. Now add your tomatoes. I start with a quart of home canned romas and sometimes add an additional pint (I love that I canned ‘maters in both pints and quarts last summer, it makes for great flexibility). Stir it all together, reduce the temperature and let it cook together for ten or fifteen minutes.

While the sauce cooks down, bring pasta water to a boil. I used the locally made whole wheat egg noodles the first night we ate this. The next night, Scott requested something slightly less akin to cardboard. I subbed in multi-grain angel hair.

Eat while watching the Olympics.

Hooray for Erin of Erin Cooks, Yummery and the owner of two of my husband’s favorite internet cats. She is the winner (lucky number #33) of the Three-Citrus Marmalade.

Thanks to all of your for your comments! I’m so delighted to have helped demystify the process of making marmalade for so many of you.

I don’t exactly know why I did it, but I waited until the very last minute to complete this February Can Jam challenge. Maybe it was indecision (I did have a hard time deciding what to make, and it didn’t help when other folks started posting all their lovely projects, tempting my attention in many directions). Maybe it was just a series of busy days (although, I’m not sure I can plead busy-ness, since there were multiple snow days this month, that slowed things down and left me with some long, lazy days).

Whatever the reason, I found myself staring down the deadline tonight and needed to make something that would meet the challenge criteria.

I spent awhile skimming through cookbooks, looking to see if I could find a recipe that moved me. I found nothing that matched what I was craving (a slightly sweet, very puckery, mildly spicy garnishing pickle), so I took what I know about pickles and headed for the stove.

Here’s what I know about pickling vegetables. Always use a commercially produced vinegar that has the acidity printed on the label (5% is best). Vinegar can be diluted by half (but no more). Spices can be tweaked and added, depending on your tastebuds. However, the amounts of low-acid vegetables shouldn’t be altered, in order to keep the product safe. If you want to get a bit more product into the jar without compromising your seal, a hot pack (this is the packing method in which you add your vegetable to the brine and let it heat up a bit, instead of packing it raw or briefly blanched and then pouring the brine over top) is the way to go.

So here’s what I did. I thinly sliced two daikon radishes and three carrots on a mandolin (I should have used one more carrot, that front jar isn’t as full as I’d like). Setting those aside, I brewed up a brine of white vinegar, water, sugar and a bunch of spices. I sipped the brine from a deep soup spoon three times in the process of making it, trying to find the right balance of sweet, tart and flavor. When I was satisfied with what was in the pot, I dropped in the slivered veg and stirred. Half a minute on the heat and then off. Using my trusty 1-cup measure, I scooped pickles and filled jars.

They taste pretty good now, but they’re fresh, young. Pickles such as these need a little time to mellow, so that the vinegar can smooth out and the sugar can lose its treacly edge. I’m looking forward to trying them again in a few weeks.

Pickled Carrots and Daikon

3-4 fat carrots
2 slim daikon radishes

Thinly slice the vegetables on a mandolin and set aside.

1 1/2 cups white vinegar
1 1/2 cups filtered water
3 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 teaspoons black mustard seeds
2 tablespoons pickling salt
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
3/4 cup sugar
3-4 star anise flowers
1 1/2 teaspoons of powdered ginger

Combine the brine ingredients in a medium-sized, non-reactive pot (the one I used holds four quarts). Bring to a boil. Taste (do not inhale over the pot, the vinegar will make you cough) and adjust spices to please your palate. Add the sliced vegetables. Stir to combine and remove from the heat.

Fill prepared jars. Wipe rims and apply lids. Process in a boiling water bath for ten minutes (starting time after the pot has returned to a boil).

Makes three pints.