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Gordon de Frane

l measuring amounts of sugar and taking stalk of the Certo supplies.
Ten'’s craft of blending the perfect quantities of fruit with pectin,
sugar, and juice was just like working magic. The results were more
than magical when you consider that opening a jar of jam during the
dead of winter was like opening a bottle of summer sunshine.

The berries or whatever fruit had been picked would be carefully
washed and culled for any bits and pieces that weren’t good and then
measured carefully and placed into the jam kettle. Ten’ always used
old and ancient recipes that had been handed down to her from Auntie
Agnes or other Elders who shared favoured recipes with her. Those
recipes always seemed to produce the best jams, jellies, pickles and
preserves. They were real then; they always produced an honest
flavour and made for delicious spreads and such.

Ten’ would fire up the gas stove and the first batch of blackberry
jam would be under way. In no time the whole house would smell
sweetly of blackberries, sugar and lemon. Auntie Agnes always said
the lemon zest made a good jam into a perfect jam. The counters
would be lined up with hot clean jars ready and waiting to receive their
black gold liquid. Back then 7en’ used hot paraffin to seal the hot jam
into the jars. And the jars were not uniform but a collection of various
jars saved during the previous year’s use of store bought relishes and
sandwich spreads, scrubbed and sterilized ready to use again. Looking
back at our practices it seems we were less paranoid about food-born
illnesses, either that or our methods were just very good. Today, I'm
afraid, paraffin and odd bottles and jars have given way to uniform
pint jars and a ten minute water bath processing to seal the jams in.

During berry season, which seemed to never really end, the
bottles of jam and preserves would gradually grow in number and
variety as one berry came into its prime while another faded. Our
cupboards soon filled with rows of jars glistening with black-purple,
bright raspberry red, the old rose of strawberry, golden plum, limey
green of the gages, clear rose of rose hip and quince or rose hip and
crabapple, chartreuse of mint jelly. A host of other preserves were set
by for the long winter moons that lay ahead.

Today, Ten’ and me continue the traditions of berry picking and
jamming, jellying and preserving. We continue using the same time
honoured recipes and while the paraffin and odd bottles have been
abandoned, the gifts of the land are still treasured and valued for their
sweetness and deliciousness and wholesome goodness. More recently

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