Tomato Jam

I've been eager to make an old-fashioned condiment: tomato jam. It is a mix of tangy (from tomatoes and lemons), sweet (sugar), and umami -- earthy -- from the pickling spice. I've seen recipes for lamb and tandoori chicken that use it as a condiment.

Our unlimited supply of currant and sun sugars were perfect candidates for the experiment -- and soooo pretty. Picking this batch (left; one day's haul!) might've been the first time the sun sugars have made it into the house. Usually we just eat them off the vine.

The recipe in my home preserving book said to blanch them first, to remove the skins...can you say "not worth the effort"? That drudgery sucked the fun right out of the process, so I ditched the step after the first 20 tomatoes.

Meanwhile, I boiled sugar and water and lemons, and a tea ball filled with pickling spice. I didn't have cheesecloth, and this was my solution -- a good one, until I needed the tea ball afterwards. The sugar created a seal on the ball and made it impossible to open, even after a soak in clean hot water. I tossed it out. (I am out of my loose tea phase anyway.)

Next came the tomatoes and some serious boiling time. So pretty, so fragrant! David, who had been skeptical about tomato jam, came in to the kitchen several times to investigate and comment on the aroma. The recipe didn't call for it, but I added 1/2 a package of pectin to help set the jam.

Finally, I ladled the hot jam into itty-bitty jars -- always a mess, even when Clumsy Camille tries hard -- and boiled them in the canner for 20 minutes. I worried that setting would fail in the jars that tipped over a little, but all seemed well 24 hours later. I love the satisfying, shy, little "pop" of the jars when they seal on the counter.

And here's the final product! We had ours on salmon -- delicious -- and a week later I ate it on crackers with manchego cheese; still later (but not the same night!), I spread it on samosas. I gave a jar to Jalpa, our neighbor who runs the market across the street, who said that her mother (who makes terrific Indian food) loved it. It reminds me a bit of tamarind sauce, so I was pleased with the report.

--Camille

Wasted Toms

David told me to make notes on which tomatoes we will grow next year. One of them won't be tumbling toms. While they might do well in a hanging basket, we weren't thrilled with the flavor. Although they are advertised as "sweet, like you expect from a cherry tomato," we found them a little tart and dry. These poor plants suffered the worst of the fungus blight, owing to their leaves' proximity to the soil; interestingly enough, the tomatoes still ripened after all of the leaves were dead -- just not to a flavor we cared for much.

I'll pick the rest of them this weekend and make tomato jam. If they do well, maybe we can find some room for them on the deck next year.

In other tomato tastings, the sun sugars won awards for taste, resilience, and prolificacy. My friend Margaret turned us onto these sweet, yellow babes. Every day we stand outside and, straight off the vine, pop them in our mouths like candy. I struggle when giving away tomatoes to friends and neighbors -- I want them to experience sun sugars, but I'm always measuring our own store. I don't want to run out!

We also loved the stupice, which may be due, in part, to their early appearance -- when we were earnestly desiring the first tomatoes of the season. They are a nice size for sandwiches and prolific enough that we don't need to eye each other suspiciously in those early days, checking each other's measure.

The black krim (in the back on left) are delicious and a little mysterious. How can a pinkish-purple bottomed and green-shouldered tomato be ripe? David still consults me before plucking one from the vine.

Yellow brandywines (middle large tomato) are mellow and beautiful on the vine, so we'll plant those again. We hope they do better next year, however: this year we've gotten only three!

I like having the big cherry reds, because they produce enough for sharing, but we don't need the currant tomatoes as well. I didn't care for their tart flavor off the vine. I suppose we could leave them for salads, but they are problematic anyway: their skins are thick but they still seem to split at the slightest watering. I like how they look, but we haven't the room for such vanity.

We haven't been too impressed with the bessers, so they'll likely give way to more pruden's purple plants. I might add a few new varieties to fill in the gaps: white tomatoes, orange pineapples, and whatever the seed catalog says is the absolute best taste: that'll take some research. Sun sugars will get two more spaces -- maybe where the tumbling toms were this year -- because I just can't get enough of them.

--Camille

Damage Control

Our tomatoes look like the walking wounded of a battle field. Owing to the abundance of nitrogen in the compost we used, they have grown out of control, outreaching our heads by several feet. Most people's tomatoes are chest high at this point, and our friend Paul's are wonderfully full and abundant. "I don't pick suckers," he said.

Maybe we need to let the suckers go next year but control the top growth. Some of the current tomato plants are ridiculous: bent over double on themselves. We have tied all of the plants to posts, which are woefully short, and tried to salvage some damage from the fungal infection by chopping off more leaves and letting others die off.

I read that copper would help the fungal situation, but I've not gotten myself over to the guys at Agway for help yet. We worked so hard getting the garden started (well, mostly that was David), so I am not sure what accounts for our current malaise. With tomato harvest rapidly approaching, I hope we don't ruin the season!

More embarrassing was our visit from our neighbor who said the garden was bone dry. I knew that, but I'd heard rain was coming all week, and I wanted to let Mother Nature do her stuff first. "Never listen to the news; just water!" Billy said, and he's right. Our raised beds do a good job draining, so overwatering isn't a problem.

Well, today it rained, and it was a light, long rain, which is the best kind for now. That way the tomatoes won't burst with a deluge.

So. Another issue with the tomatoes is the overabundance of small ones. We have current tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, sun sugars, and tumbling toms. All four types are small. We have some monster brandywines, and german pinks (including the bizarre quadruple tomato pictured below [and this is a month-old photo, when it was 4 inches or so]), but very few solid, medium-size tomato-sandwich size fruits. One of our main pleasures is tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches on pumpernickel rye. Cherry tomatoes just won't cut it.
Next year, we've decided, we will plant 6 or 7 standard size tomato plants and then one each of the other, more exotic, varieties.

In happier news, we've eaten wonderful, wonderful yellow pencil pod and royal burgundy bush beans. I wish we had more room for additional plans and varieties. I've given some beans away, just because they are so pretty, but I want more for myself for eating! We've also had more zucchini and squash, pesto from the basil, and herbs. The colors in the garden are spectacular, with bright red peppers and amaranth, and these gorgeous purple eggplants.










The potatoes are still a mystery, and they aren't fun when we pull them up too soon, so I think we'll use that space (which seems wasted now) for more beans next year.

--Camille