Last week we ate peas and lettuce and spinach from the garden. It's kind of strange to eat leaves that you pick, it's sad actually how very strange it is. Seems primitive and kind of desperate. But they were good leaves.
I made some jam yesterday, strawberry. I got a great deal on them at Berkeley Bowl on that weird shelf where there is usually only rotten things or a little assortment of scones and muffins in a little bag. I got a flat of perfectly normal strawberries and made 9 jars of jam. Would've been 12 but I didn't do it right away and by the time I started yesterday afternoon I had to compost a good number of sad berries.
The whole process only took 1 hour. That fact encouraged me that I could make jam anytime I want. It also helped that I decided not to even attempt to skim the jam. I know this makes for a cloudier final product and it was ingrained in me from reading Anna Karenina that a good mother diligently skims the jam. Even if she has servants, she'll be there, at the pot of jam set up outside over a fire, skimming away. But Kitty was so good it was kind of sickening, right? So no skimming the jam for me anymore. I actually think it's a waste of time. And it's more of a symbol in the book than really about the jam.