Make Nine 2020

This Epiphany – in some Christian traditions the Day of Kings (el Día de los Reyes) – secular revelation comes not with a star, angels, and shepherds, but by means of a Tweet and Reply. There's the horror, the horror of an imperial, violence-prone presidency on full public display, in 140 characters or less, and the lawful rejoinder. Context here.

This Media Post will serve as a reminder that war powers reside in the Congress under the United States Constitution. And that you should read the War Powers Act. And that you’re not a dictator. https://t.co/VTroMegWv0

— House Foreign Affairs Committee (@HouseForeign) January 5, 2020

The contending assertions also provide a reminder that the religious text for the day plainly calls wise men and women to acts of resistance and civil disobedience against would-be tyrants. When fox-like Herod treacherously demands you play the informant for him, conscience and lucid dreaming will send you home safe by another way. It's not alternative facts, but an alternate road.

One of those alternate paths for me includes the gentle Make Nine Challenge (#MakeNine), explained by blog, Instagram, and Ravelry group. Rather than attempt to Make All the Things and succumb to the pressures of fast fashion, this challenge is a thoughtful, intentionally limited ramble through a year of making. I've been trying to de-clutter, and that really should include my multi-craftual queue, too. So here's my collage and intentions.



1. Make some prayer shawls: maybe knit them, maybe weave them. While the production method may be in question, the current need at Church of the Improv is indisputably urgent. I've never before seen a time such as this. It's easy to feel anxious and overwhelmed.

2. Fold some origami cranes and take them to the June pilgrimage to Washington, DC.

3. Reduce the number of UFO socks, including Singular Sensation Socks. This could easily turn into a deep dive into a rabbit hole all by itself. To set some parameters, let me note the current number of Singular Sensations is 11; the lowest number is 7, achieved in 2011, 2012, 2014, and 2016; the highest number is 12, a dubious achievement of 2009.

4. Sew a T-shirt or two. I haven't done any garment sewing in a long, long, long time and would like to get back into it, not least because I love wearing tees, inventory is running low, and I'm increasingly dissatisfied with storebought. Although I have a quibble... I prefer the finished look of facings, but patterns with bias binding would seem to be the current style, such as the knit 100 Acts of Sewing: Shirt No. 2 or the woven Grainline Studio Scout Tee, with sleeve variations. Perhaps more research is needed.

5. Free square, project to be determined. Of course there's a free square. There are many contenders for the empty space – Sock Madness, Tour de Fleece, and the Tokyo Ravellenics come readily to mind – but I want to hold it open for a while.

6. Sew some project and shopping bags, such as Grainline Studio Stowe Bag. I'm still trying to reduce my use of plastic.

7. Knit a Churchmouse Yarns and Teas Swingy Linen Skirt. I have the pattern, and yarn purchased for Camp Loopy 2017 (just when the most recent round of chaos started) and re-purposed in 2018. I haven't had the requisite time to knit, but I hope to remedy that this year.

8. Sew some aprons, such as Purl Soho Cross Back Apron. Or possibly weave some kitchen towels or spa cloths.

9. Can some things – apricot or peach jam, maybe; tomato jam, definitely; maybe dilly beans or pickled nasturtium pods; hopefully some cherries. Lately I've repeatedly missed cherry season because of too much travel. Sigh. The list could go on and on, but in the spirit of Make Nine, there's no pressure (har) to can All The Things.

I'm looking forward to learning lots of good ancillary things too. For example, that's my first photo collage above (yay, me) and I hope to become more proficient on Instagram, the format of which just boggles me. So here goes, and good luck to everyone Making Nine.

February Is the Shortest Month

It's February, and so Black History Month in the U.S., and because of this and oh-so-many other reasons my book group is reading White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo and I'm Still Here by Austin Channing Brown, both excellent and worthy reads, particularly when read in parallel. Although the theme of the selections, a seasonal phenomenon, does tend to bring to mind the pesky question Why now? and the uncomfortable exchange:

Q. Why is February Black History Month?
A. Because it's the shortest month.

The barbed joke is not to suggest that black history lacks substance – far from it, the dual narratives of black enslavement and Native American genocide are foundational for the entire hemisphere and continue into the present – but rather to hint that white attention spans are so short that 28 days (or 29, in a leap year) is really all the time anyone could reasonably expect white people to pay attention to anything not featuring them in the starring role. A stereotype, perhaps, or put another way the ability to flit into and out of conversations on race and culture, and impatience at being confronted about the same, are prime examples of white privilege. Earnest explanations that the choice of February has something to do with the Great Emancipator's birthday could similarly be reframed as whitesplaining, centering the conversation on whites, and denying agency to blacks. It's all about perspective and point of view.

Whew! Time for a cookie photo of some yarn, a seven-color Find Your Fade kit from Neighborhood Fiber Co. -- an independent, urban, black-owned, woman-owned business. How's that for virtue-signaling? Although ::cough:: I bought the kit back in 2017, and while it still sparks joy, I haven't yet knit it up. Too much travel, sigh.



Sadly, and no surprise, retreat into fibery goodness provides no safe space from race matters, witness the turmoil propagating from a single insensitive blogpost about an international trip. It's a striking illustration of white tears that many crafters do not see the original post as problematic at all and instead lament that the blogger's dream vacation has been ruined by over-zealous BIPOCs. All that unspooled in less than a week in January, and continues to unspool. While I hesitate to dive into the controversy now – and have hesitated to link to the OP, not least because I think she's gotten quite enough attention – the topic is not going away anytime soon. So let me link the links and ruminate on my February reading and keep on keeping on.

Edited to add: this Vox article gives a helpful, non-judgmental summary of the controversy.



As last month was unexpectedly hectic (gusty sigh), I never did manage the January FIJ Challenge, citrus. I'm catching up now with some citrus jam (not marmalade) made from miscellaneous leftover Lunar New Year citrus – a lot of tangerines, two Meyer lemons, half a Cara Cara navel orange, and a couple segments from a red grapefruit. I'll never repeat the exact mix again! I mostly followed this recipe for Orange Cardamom Jam... except the fruits were so sweet and fragrant, I omitted the cardamom, used Pomona Pectin and only one-third of the sugar, and had a greatly reduced cooking time. It's my first time using Pomona Pectin, which does not rely on sugar to set, and I think I overdid it – the set is a bit rubbery. But the flavor is fresh and sweet-tart with just a touch of pleasantly bitter aftertaste. The yield is excellent: a scant three cups of citrus pulp turned into five quarter-pints of jam with an almost-full jar as the cook's share. I neglected to take any process photos; it was a little surprising how the intensely colored tangerines turned golden with cooking. Overall, I'm pleased, and the jam is my first official FO of 2019 – a little sweet to go with the bitter.

Blur

On reflection at year end, 2018 seems to have gone by in a blur. While it may not have attained 2016 dumpster fire levels of awful, the cumulative impact of winter snowstorms and autumn hurricanes, familial responsibilities, and especially the seemingly endless weary rounds of endless dreary travel really ground me down. There was sufficient miserable badness that the goodness was almost lost in the fog.

Almost. There were small consolations. Over the summer I discovered Marisa McClellan's much-celebrated tomato jams, and turned out red, orange, and yellow varieties because I grew red and orange tomatoes and got some yellow ones at the farmer's market. Now that summer is gone, a dollop of tomato jam on eggs or in a chowder is so very nice.



As hard as it is now to recall or even imagine there once were winter Ravellenics or Sock Madness 12, they occurred, and I participated to the limited extent that I could. Sometimes frogging and qualifying are all that one can manage.

 

Perennial optimist that I am, I also entered make-alongs with every good intention of finishing odd socks and weaving spa cloths. Alas, that didn't go as planned. Ah well, next year.

 

It should be no surprise that one sock – the SM12 qualifier! – went onto the Clothesline of Shame and none came down for a total of ten Singleton Socks of Shame. Not the most ever, but still backwards progress.

Singleton Socks of Shame 2018, left to right, oldest to newest: Meadowlands, Fawkes, Julesokker, Love Me Knot, Chain Link, Hanauma Bay, handspun Queen of Diamonds, Twisted Madness, Dropping Madness, Fée Dragée with a counting thread.

One last fibery consolation for the year is my last foot, just-finished holly jolly Cranberry Biscotti by Elizabeth Sullivan. I'm beyond pleased with the way they turned out. I added a beaded cuff, which while not super-visible, nonetheless makes me absurdly happy.



With the year closing amid increasing economic turmoil and willful political failures, more so than ever knitting has become both solace and expression of resistance. I have no sage advice to offer this New Year's Eve beyond the usual, perhaps all the more important in unusual times: take good care of yerselves...



... and see you on the other side.

Trolls Ascendant

What a strange and terrible week it's been, so dominated by the spectacle of corrupt and spineless politics in Washington, Big Lies, and crackpot threats of violence. In an odd way it reminded me of the scene on a beach while a hurricane is going by: the warning flags are up, the water is churning with tremendous force, and yet some people are surfing. Perhaps some of the same principles of responsibility and self-care may apply.



When trolls are ascendant, one is left to concoct one's own sunshine amid the sturm und drang. A third way, if you will: not reacting to them, not pretending they aren't there, but a form of resistance (admittedly privileged) to their coarsened public discourse. So I've been doing some cauldron work, and am rather pleased with the results. There's more tomato jam to add to the Great Wall of Tomato Jam, this time using yellow and (more) orange tomatoes. It's Marissa's recipe again, with 20% less sugar, white vinegar substituted for cider vinegar, and ground jalapeño subbed for smoked paprika and cayenne. I'm ridiculously happy at how the colors have held during cooking and processing.



Ah, the colors. I could look at this all day. Flavor and yield are good, too. Tomato jam is often paired with cheese, but I like it best with eggs.



Meanwhile, the Diana Prince sock progresses, while as anticipated the shrug is Overtaken By Events. Ah well, maybe now more than ever a bit of Amazon fortitude and some fancy needlework is needed. Pew! Pew!



After an absence to several years, I'm planning to go to Rhinebeck this year. I've been before, but for the first time I'm planning to stay overnight. I'm thrilled to bits, even though I'm still so busy that I'm not going to attempt to knit a sweater. But... er... well, maybe a hat.... To be continued

Pedants and Scofflaws at Summer's End

Every year without fail, some quarrelsome pedant or other may be counted on to argue that the end of summer is actually the autumnal equinox and not Labor Day weekend. Woe is me, this Labor Day weekend I seem to be awash in pedants, more so than usual, and I am tired. Maybe it's the torrential rain, maybe it's the subsequent heat and humidity. How hot and humid is it? Hot and humid enough that gadgets large and small at the U.S. Open were malfunctioning, from the ticket scanners to the big video screens. But not to complain, I'm glad I could attend this year after missing last year.



Then again, I rather doubt heat and humidity explain the inane questions this interviewer put to rising star Naomi Osaka, who bore it with patient good humor and only a little side-eyeing. Edited to add: Naomi Osaka went on to win her first major title, decisively upsetting six-time champion Serena Williams in what also became the most controversial final match in U.S. Open history.



It also doesn't explain these tomatoes. I planted what was supposed to be an orange cherry tomato plant, that is, a plant that bears orange-colored cherry-sized tomatoes, but what grew was an orange-colored slicer. Oh well. They're tasty, strikingly colored, sub-acid, and sufficiently plentiful for a half batch of Orange Tomato Jam. It would have been a full batch, but some hungry pedants gorged on a few.



After a bit of cauldron work, I had – dare one say it? – summer's end in a jar. I used 20% less sugar than the recipe specifies, white vinegar instead of cider vinegar, and gochugaru instead of smoked paprika and cayenne. I'm happy with its flavor and especially that it held its color through cooking down and processing. We shall see how it holds up in storage – if the hungry pedants don't eat it first.



Some pedants insist on no white after Labor Day. Scofflaw that I am, I cast on a white linen Featherweight Cardigan by Hannah Fettig. Although it's hot and humid outdoors, I could use a little something in the frigid air-conditioned indoors.



It must be admitted the project involves a scofflaw's gambit – that it will be finished before the onset of cooler weather and so can be worn this season. Also a scofflaw's optimism that if not, it can be worn next season. Tralala.

Swallowtail and Tomato Jam

Some folk are marvelous caterpillar wranglers – patient, dedicated, knowledgeable. Me, sadly, not so much. I know just how devastating those tiny tiny jaws can be in the garden, so about the closest I'll get to intentionally having caterpillars near my vegetable patch is this new Swallowtail...



... and these quarter-pint jars of tomato jam, now safely beyond the reach of those tiny tiny jaws. Sorry about the weird lighting, it's been thundershowers all day roundabout Exit 151.



Swallowtail Shawl by Evelyn A. Clark is a favorite pattern. It's such a favorite I've knit five with somewhat spotty documentation – the first is pre-Ravelry, the second was not blogged because it was a gift, and so on. Each had its pleasures.



Swallowtail the fifth is knit in lovely SweetGeorgia Yarns CashSilk Lace, colorway English Ivy. It's a gift, too. I never tire of this pattern.



And I never tire of the magic of jamming. One starts with fresh fruit, its goodness lush yet fleeting, adds a bit of cauldron work, and ends with shelf-stable summer in a jar. Tomato jam is new to me, but why not? Surely worth a try. (Gentle readers, let's sidestep the highly partisan question of whether tomato is a fruit or vegetable, else we'll be here all day.)



I used Marissa's highly recommended Tomato Jam recipe. I made a two-fifths recipe, maths was involved. The warm spices – ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and red pepper flakes – give the jam gentle but definite heat. The fragrance at first seemed overwhelmingly sweet and Christmas-y, but as the flavors melded, the red pepper became more dominant, maybe too dominant (we'll see). Yield was spot on, three quarter-pints and a small cook's share. One jar failed to seal, a first for me. Not a problem, the open jar offers the opportunity to sample the developing flavors. I've been finding the jam is persistently too sweet for my taste; next time, I'd reduce the sugar by one-fourth. So far I've tried the jam spread on crackers, with cheese, and on an omelet – I bet it would make outstanding avocado toast.

Swallowtail and tomato jam... could be a cool BnB, LOL. Onward.

The Pits

Oh hai. Happy... Halloween? All Saints Day? Where was I? Right, canning along and dealing with an abundance of pits, which made August, September, and October fly by bloglessly. I missed the U.S. Open. I missed Rhinebeck. While that's a sadness, there may be consolations. As gentle readers may know, when life gives you pits, sometimes that implies peaches or possibly cherries or possibly both, which is not so bad. But other times it's just the pits.

So. Back in August I canned peaches. The FIJ August Challenge was a twofer, low temperature pasteurization or steam canning. However, as both challenges require specialty equipment, impecunious renegade that I am, I just chugged along hot-packing peaches. It wasn't a good year for peaches, too cold during critical bloom times during the spring and too wet, flooded, and overcast when the developing fruits needed sun. Out of the various peaches I tried this summer – from New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina farmers markets – NJ peaches were the sweetest, which ordinarily is not the case.

Prepping peaches for canning requires blanching and peeling, slicing (halves and even quarters seemed too big, I tried sixths), then simmering until hot in canning liquid. It was a surprise to see that blanched, peeled peaches retain a lovely blush...



... that vanishes with simmering. More accurately, the slices lose their blush, but the canning liquid takes on a pretty pink tinge that eludes my poor digicam.



For canning liquid I tried recipes that use apple juice or heavy syrup (in the Ball Blue Book). My plan was to be able to eat the peaches and drink the juice, but some of the hungry peach-eaters at casa Jersey Knitter greatly prefer peaches in heavy syrup because they find juice pack too acidic. I wonder if a touch of honey would help smooth that out.

Processing is straightforward. I had some trouble with syphoning and fruit float, then read the former is caused when the contents of jars are either too hot or too cold relative to the water bath, especially with larger jars, and the latter happens when the specific gravity of the fruit is less than that of the canning liquid. Adjust accordingly. Eureka! (Alas for the peach-eaters, I think that means light syrup is more appropriate.)



The results were very good, far superior to store-bought canned peaches, which encouraged further production. Also a certain amount of backwards progress when the hungry peach-eaters helped themselves to the peaches in heavy syrup. For quality assurance purposes, of course. Only one heavy syrup pack jar made it to the class photo.



That is the most canning of one thing I've done so far, but not enough to see casa Jersey Knitter through the dearth of fresh peaches. I'd hoped to continue canning peaches through September, but the knowledgeable farmers market dude told me there's a magic moment that usually happens around the third week of August when peaches still look good, but no longer taste good. I'd never really noticed, but that is exactly what happened. Then other things happened, I was away a lot, and missed the FIJ September challenge, fruit butter, altogether. I was looking forward to trying a recipe for tomato jam... although this hasn't been a great year for tomatoes either, at least not in my tomato patch. Ah well.

I knit a loud sock for September Sockdown and was disqualified for being inattentive to the rules. Shrug. My DQ sock is a modified version of Socks on a Plane, and indeed was knit on a plane, and on trains and automobiles, too. Progress has been the opposite of speedy. I've been using a counting thread to keep the 3x3x7 cable crossings correct.



Carole fortuitously reminded me I had a bag of pitted Bing cherries in the freezer, prepped and set aside during the surfeit of cherry season for a purpose now forgotten. I decided to repurpose them for brandied cherries (recipe in the Ball Blue Book), to be used in festive cocktails and boozy desserts, except I substituted Amaretto for brandy as I find almond more sympatico with cherries. Freezing and canning were not kind to the cherries' texture, but otherwise the boozy cherries are incredible – sweet, dark, and quite alcoholic, definitely a consolation for missing the FIJ October challenge (dehydration or pressure canning). Indeed, the canning syrup was so good, I canned the excess too.



The trouble with any -along is too many inspirations/patterns/recipes, too little time. And boy howdy, do I have too little time at the moment. So let me just note these recipes (Fikira Honey Candy and Canned Lemon Curd) and the fond hope I can get to them later. November, November, that's how I'll remember!

Beyond Categorization

Per expectation, thus far the month of June has been a whirlwind of busy. If June were a mountain in a stage of the Tour de France, the term hors catégorie or HC – beyond categorization – would not be inappropriate. But there's no point in saying, "I told you so." Onward and upward!



A minor annoyance amidst all the to-ing and fro-ing has been the persistent clanking noises emanating from my tote bag, caused by divers things striking my fancy stainless steel water bottle. To reduce the noise and to prevent damage to its finish, I went over to the dark side and crocheted a water bottle cozy from some Lily Sugar 'n Cream acquired on the fly at a big box store. (The colorway is Lava Lamp. Really?) There's no pattern, just granny-ing along. It works pretty well. Ah, blessèd freedom from clanking!



The FIJ June challenge, jam, posed a vexing challenge at the beginning of the month: there's not a lot of fresh local fruit roundabout Exit 151. Thus the appeal of this unexpected recipe for Dried Apricot Jam. Although perhaps by now gentle readers know better than to be surprised that intrepid canners can put up almost anything. And although it's no surprise a plant-rich diet has a great impact on curbing global warming, according to the rankings in Drawdown, eating imported fruits and vegetables has less environmental impact than eating local beef. Put another way, a plant-based diet is so much better for the planet than red meat, transportation considerations become negligible. Also, while eating local seasonal produce is great taste-wise and it supports local farmers, it doesn't do that much environmental good. Huh.



Anyway, the jam technique is simple: dice dried apricots, rehydrate overnight, cook down with sugar and a bit of lemon juice until jammy. (That's a technical term.) My poor digicam could not capture how variable in color and texture the rehydrating bits looked – some bits were almost white, wrinkled, and tough, some bits were deep orange and very soft. In the pot the bits broke down and deepened in hue in a most satisfactory way, and the results were excellent in all ways: delicious, convenient, and a spot-on yield. I put up one half-pint jar to use in jam cake and three quarter-pints for other uses. Happiness.

Time passed, and lovely fresh apricots became available in the markets. So I did the obvious, bought some fresh apricots with the intent of doing a jam-off. Unfortunately more time passed, and about half the apricots went bad before I could do that (oops, food waste). Ahem.



The recipe for Simple Apricot Jam is as minimalist as it gets: two ingredients, chopped fruit and sugar in a 3:1 ratio by weight, let macerate overnight, cook down. That's it. The formula works for other peel-on, high-acid fruit, too. I neglected to take a pic of the chopped fruit, but the bits were deeply colored and firm-textured, with velvet skin. In the pot everything cooked down into a beautiful golden paste that was thin at first, but slowly thickened into jamminess. The odor was heavenly.



I started with 27 oz. (.765 kg) chopped fruit and 9 oz (.255 kg) sugar, and ended with four quarter-pints and some well-licked implements.



Initially I'd thought of a doing taste-off between apricot jam made from dried fruit and apricot jam made from fresh fruit. Now I know there's no comparison. Dried Apricot Jam is excellent; Simple Apricot Jam is early summer in a jar. I could tell by the smell when it was cooking down that it would be too good for putting in jam cake, so I changed the put-up to all small jars. One may as well call it HC Apricot Jam.

What They Were Thinking

It's been a cool and soggy Memorial Day weekend roundabout Exit 151, and I don't mean the uproar over a certain sportswriter's selective unease about the Indy 500 winner or the pushback to a certain First Blogger's let-them-eat-cake recipe. No, no, fluff-filled brain that I have, the observation is merely meteorological – the weekend was cool and rainy.

In between the raindrops I managed to visit the Presby Iris Gardens, which lived up to their nickname, A Rainbow on the Hill. And there were plenty of buds, so the display should remain lovely for at least another week.



Gentle readers may recall that last month's quick pickled asparagus disappeared fast, which prompted me to put up the shelf-stable version for the May FIJ challenge, cold pack. This time I used Marisa McClellan's recipe for Pickled Asparagus Spears, put up in 12-oz jelly jars. Compared with the quick pickle, the processed version (unsurprisingly) is wrinkled and softer, although not as overcooked as commercial canned asparagus, and the extra heat infused the brine with the color of the red pepper flakes. There was some siphoning, nothing too distressing, and the yield was perfect. All good, except it turns out the happy hope of preserving spring bounty was mostly foiled by the insatiable munching jaws at casa Jersey Knitter. As fast as the asparagus is prepared, just so quickly it disappears! That's mostly gratifying, only slightly frustrating.



Somehow Sock Madness 11 has managed to reach Round 5, leaving me far, far behind, even for a patterns-only non-competitor. After a personal best last year, there are too many distractions this year! And my wandering attention has wandered to June Camp Loopy (and the Tour de Fleece 2017). Here's my yarn for camp, Cascade Ultra Pima. I'm wavering (again) on the pattern. This year's theme is dinosaurs; I've been assigned to Camp Stegosaurus. Although my dino totem is a Velociraptor. Perhaps that bodes well for fierce and fleet knitting? Surely it doesn't signify much frogging and shredding?



Alas, cruel reality intrudes on these pleasant knitting musings: I expect to be crazy-busy in June (and traveling on the day of the TdF Grand Départ, July 1). What am I thinking???

Lent Socks

Happy April Fool's Day! This is a post-factum post, a catch-all catch-up, and it would seem the joke's on me. In true Seussical fashion, after I made shrub (also known as drinking vinegar or switchel) for the March FIJ Challenge (jellies and shrubs), I started seeing it here and there, I started seeing it everywhere. I saw it at an Asian supermarket (the signs say it's a healthy drink)...



... in a deli refrigerator case...



... and at the Tait Farm Foods booth at the Philadelphia Flower Show. They were giving away samples, which tasted predominantly of fruit, sweet and tart, with that sour-funky vinegar flavor only at the finish. Quite nice, very refreshing. I bought a few bottles for research purposes.



Alas, after much judicious sampling I have decided shrub just isn't my thing. I can see why some FIJ Challenge participants match a mix of 3 parts red wine vinegar and 1 part balsamic vinegar with strawberries or Braggs apple cider vinegar with citrus, pairings that would not have occurred to me before. So I'm happy to have expanded my palate and learned something new, even if I don't think I'll re-visit the topic. It does tug at my imagination, though, in ways that soup base does not.

Speaking of re-visiting topics, one February Sockdown category was repeats, so I knit another pair of lovely Embossed Leaves by Mona Schmidt, this one in Opal Uni-Solid, 2600 Purple. They're the liturgically correct color for Lent, and they're finished, although one day past the Sockdown deadline. Oh well. I tweaked the pattern a very little: substituted 2x2 ribbing, varied the pattern by a half-drop, fiddled with the star toe for fit. Otherwise, it's a beautiful and truly repeat-worthy pattern!



For a second March FIJ Challenge project I made Wine and Herb Jelly by Cathy Barrow, using a Riesling Auslese instead of the Gewürtztraminer specified in the recipe. It was easy, pretty, and tasty, with a nice soft set and excellent yield; something to do at a time of year when there's not much fresh local fruit roundabout Exit 151. I put a sprig of thyme in the jars for decoration, but think the wine jelly would be equally good without it. The Auslese has such a luscious peach flavor, I suspect it might make an extra-luxurious and flavorful base for pepper jelly.



Obviously I'm having a lot of fun with the challenges. I'm particularly appreciative of the expertise and creativity of other participants, which leads to a phenomenon familiar from knitting: so many great recipes, too little time. It turns out almost anything can be made into jelly! Among the many recipes I'd like to try someday: Stout Beer Jelly, Grape Juice Jelly, Jalapeño-Confetti Jelly (in Preserving with Pomona's Pectin). As I don't much care for the massive quantities of sugar in so many traditional jelly recipes, I'd very much like to try Pomona's pectin, which would allow me to reduce the amount of sugar and let the fruit flavors shine.



I was down to one small jar of January's blood orange marmalade, so I made more. The January batch was rose-gold, but the March batch turned out ruby red. They taste about the same. Huh. I put up this batch in three 4-oz and three 8-oz jars to suit the excellent marmalade cake recipe – pity I don't have any 10-oz jars. Hm.