Making jam with someone else turns the process into fun. If Dave didn’t make jam with me, I daresay I wouldn’t bother…those arid times standing stirring when the jam refuses to get to setting point, those dratted paper labels that won’t come off the secondhand jam jars. How would I get through them if Dave wasn’t there entertaining me with his delightfully weird and funny conversations? (that so often end up in my books.)
Yesterday I even had someone to pick the fruit with me, to wash it and sort it, to weigh the sugar and measure the water and then to make me a Bloody Mary. Yeah! Everyone should get a daughter-in-law, though they’d be lucky to find one who’s as much fun as mine.
1 comment:
For a city girl it was a real treat to be standing in your kitchen, talking about jam, Bloody Marys and other juicy bits.
This Little Red Hen was honored just to be there.
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