In a Jam

I can remember there were times in the summer when my parents Carl and Sybil Miner Beck would drive us to a large field near Camp Wildwood to pick the wild strawberries. These berries weren’t the large ones sold in stores. Mom called them tame berries. The wild strawberries were much smaller. Most were about pea-sized, but occasionally we would find one that was the size of a fingernail. Wild berries grew in clusters of maybe four to six berries on a stem that reminded me of the ribs of an umbrella. Picking them in the field was only the beginning for us. Once the pails of berries were brought home, the berries needed to be separated from the stems, then the green-leafed caps had to be removed from each berry, often leaving fingers stained bright red. Mom would add sugar to the “cleaned” strawberries to wait until she either decided to make jam from them or if she wanted to make strawberry shortcake. The wild strawberries were less sweet than the tame ones, but the wild strawberry flavor is much more intense. The shortcake Mom would make wasn’t the sweet yellow sponge cake like what is sold in the grocery stores today, but it was more like a biscuit. The biscuit always needed the syrup from the sugar and the macerated berries to moisten it. Mom would also make jelly from the berries, cooking them until they thickened with the added Sure-Gel before she ladled into jars, sealing them with a layer of paraffin.

Another jam Mom would make was Concord grape. It was easier for us to gather the clusters of purple orbs. The bunches of grapes were more easily seen, hanging on vines. We didn’t have to search for them like the wild strawberries in the tall grass. Sometimes Mom would preserve Mason jars of grape juice, but most often she would make jelly. After the grapes were removed from the stems, they were washed, cooked, and pressed through a colander-type mortar and pestle to remove the skins and seeds. The pulp was again cooked and Sure-Gel added before the jelly was ladled into jars and sealed. That was our choices of jelly all winter. I believe I can remember someone gave us peaches and we had a fourth choice: Strawberry, Grape, peach, of none at all. Once I was out and on my own, I bought other types of jelly, jam, or marmalade, but no strawberry or grape. For the longest time my desire for eating other flavors outweighed my feelings of nostalgia and the taste of home.