I took two plumcots and pitted them. A Gala apple, sans seed. Whirred them to smooth in the food processor. I was jamming in thought and in deed. I transferred the mixture to a pyrex dish and microwaved it on high. Three minutes times three with a stir in between and a bit of an anxious sigh.
Will it be good? Will it be like jam? I really hoped it would work. I’d have it with toast and a little boast. And set some coffee to perk.
I added some monkfruit I’d bought at the store, cornstarch and water, and stirred it some more. One last frizzle in the microwave. And I had some jam with a recipe to save.
This morning was a whir. More than the whirring of the food processor. I made a double batch of oatmeal craisin cookies (loaded with sugar), and then a double batch of chocolate almond biscotti (also loaded with sugar). I won’t eat them at all. But I enjoy the process of making cookies. Handling the dough, smelling them baking, setting them out to cool. And having them look just right. I’ll wait for my tasters to come home to know for sure that they taste right. I don’t enjoy what happens if I taste them. So I don’t. (Flashback to having to make more cookies because there weren’t enough left from the first batch. They were in more(een).)
Last night I noticed a tweet that referenced jam. Missing jam because there’s too much sugar in it. So I made a note of it (see my last post). This morning, in the midst of everything else, I made plumcot jam to go with my flaxseed toast and butter. I rounded out my breakfast with a microwaved scrambled egg and a slice of provolone. The first half of toast I had with jam and butter. The second half was already spread with butter and jam, but as I looked at my circle of scrambled egg, something clicked. I popped the egg on top of the jam, added a slice of provolone to the top and ate it like a breakfast sandwich. It reminded me of the last Monte Cristo sandwich I had at Lake Quinault Lodge (Olympic National Park, Washington) a few years ago. It was a real Monte Cristo sandwich dipped in egg and milk mixture and fried like french toast. Served sprinkled with powdered sugar and sides of sour cream and marion berry jam. Mmmm.
I don’t have much time to polish off this post. I’ll leave it as a jam with a (w)rapper as I roast in the humid heat of summer with a piece of flaxseed toast. I never saw the beat of it. Cooking and Jamming. No sugar added.
Check back later for my thoughts about monkfruit as a sweetener.
I also plan to refine the recipe for the jam and offer it to anyone who’d like to try it. I’m working on my cookbook but it’s not ready for folks to buy it!
And now. If anyone would like to leave a comment as a toast (or a roast). Please feel free to!