Ed has always loved gooseberry jam. If he ever sees it for sale at a farmers market, he jumps at the chance to buy a jar. His love for this jam comes from his love for his Aunt Gladys, who was like a second mom to Ed and a third grandmom to our children. She always opened a jar of her homemade gooseberry jam for biscuits when we had breakfast at her house in Owensboro.
At age 95, Gladys planted a new gooseberry bush to replace one in her back yard. Now, here's the thing about gooseberry bushes: it take two to three years for them to produce a significant amount of berries. So she would be 97 or 98 before she could pick enough berries to make her jam. She always was an optimist.
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Aunt Gladys died in February 2011 at age 96. The next month, we moved into our new home at Farm Dover and that spring, we bought a gooseberry bush in honor of Aunt Gladys. For 11 years, we have gotten excited to see our plant produce berries; but every year, the birds beat us to them -- clearing out every single berry on the very day they become ripe enough for picking.
This year, Ed was all over it. Back in May when the little green berries were just forming, he drove t-post into the ground around our single bush and attached chicken wire to the post, using ground staples to secure it to the ground. He then added netting to the top, making sure that not a single hole could be found for a bird to gain entrance. Then he watched and waited, and watched and waited some more.
Just this week, we determined that the berries were ready to be picked. All told, Ed picked just over two pounds of the little green orbs. I spent the next two evenings extracting the tops and tails from each berry.
Yesterday, I turned the two pounds into six pints of gooseberry jam.
Last night, I popped open a jar and added a dollop to a cracker topped with Cambozola Black Label cheese. So good. Sweet and tart at the same time.
Aunt Gladys would be proud of Ed for protecting his crop and of me for turning it into jam.
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