Plumming

We planted an apricot tree and two plum trees four years ago: one satsuma plum and one blood plum. The plum trees were productive from the second year, and this year the satsuma was laden with sun-sweetened fruit. Plums are one of those fruit and vegetables (like apples, rhubarb and apricots) that I think you can never have too many of. There are so many things you can make with them. This summer, I tried preserving them.

My cousin gave me a Fowler’s preserving kit when I saw her over Christmas. She has many fruit trees on her huge block outside Melbourne and lives even more thriftily than me – and that includes preserving food in summer to eat over winter, like our grandmother used to do. I told her how impressed I was at her know-how and so she bought me my own kit, second-hand of course. She also encouraged me to use it. ‘Give it a go. You only need a bucket of fruit. That’s not so much.’

Our plum tree was studded with clumps of fruit but I didn’t think I had a bucket full. Especially after giving two bags away to friends, and some to mum, who brought us over a tart the next day that she had made with them. I was also eating them fresh when they were heavy and dripping, and stewing others, drinking the excess juice – so tasty and refreshing. A few times Lara ate a whole fresh plum with the stone removed, chewing gummily on the skin. At eight months, both babies like them stewed as well, where the mess they make, even with bibs, is diabolical.

I decided that I had enough plums to have a go, so I did.

The huge saucepan that was part of the kit looked at least fifty years old but it seemed to have all the necessary parts, including a rack that the jars sit on while they cook. Once filled with plums and syrup and sealed, I dropped each jar in the pot of boiling water and let it simmer for two and a half hours. At first the pot overflowed as the water came out the thermometer gauge, and some of the taller jars weren’t immersed in water as I thought they should be, but Steve helped me ladle out a bit of the excess water and had the good idea of lying the bigger jars on their sides so they would be covered.

After the time had elapsed I turned off the heat and carefully picked out the jars with tongs and a tea towel, cooling them on a rack. I wasn’t sure if it had worked. Most of the jars had seemed to have lost almost a quarter of their liquid. And was it a problem that I had not totally immersed the fruit in the liquid, as the instructions had told me to? When they had cooled I removed a clip and opened one jar with an oyster knife. It made a sound of released pressure so it seemed to have worked alright. I froze the plums from that jar and rang my cousin to check.

Yes, it’s OK if the fruit are higher in the jar than the liquid. No, the jars don’t have to be immersed in water when cooking under pressure, three-quarters of the way up the jar is enough. Yes, it’s alright that the jars seem to have lost liquid. This is less of a problem if the pot is kept at eighty degrees rather than boiling point, as I had done.

One jar wasn’t properly sealed so I opened that as well and we’ll eat it soon. I still have five jars left. They stand proudly in my pantry: homely, luscious, and a luminous deep burgundy red.

I’ll give it another go next year, and next time I’ll learn from my mistakes. I’ll also involve the babies. I want them to know where food comes from, watch it grow, and enjoy and sometimes take their time with me preparing it. They’ll be one and a half. I’ll dedicate more time to the activity and they can plop the sliced plums into the jars. I think they’ll love that.

I can’t wait.