It’s strawberry season here in Ontario and there’s nothing I like more than fresh from the field berries. (Well, maybe preserved berries in jam.)
This weekend my dad picked four big baskets of juicy red strawberries at a local farm, and my mom and I made jam. I’ve watched my parents make it before but had never done it myself.
I was surprised by how easy it is. And how the sound and smell threw me back to my childhood. Stained red fingers and lips; the way the tiny perfect hulling tools belonging to my grandmother felt so natural in my hands; the musical clink of the jars as we took them out of the oven after sterilizing; and especially the sugary goodness of the pink skim we took off the top and served up to my boys on toast and over top of ice cream.
It feels like summer has officially begun.