OK, taste-test time. Fun. As previously mentioned, I brought some small French jams back from Paris in my very small bag. I’ve been meaning to start doing taste-tests on this lil’ bloggy woggy, so voila: the first one.

I firmly believe that jam is best appreciated on fresh baguette with a tiny smear of unsalted butter. So that’s exactly how this was done.

Our lovely contestants today -

Carla mango and passion fruit jam:

Smells lush, fruity, tropical. Top marks for full mango flavour, not too sweet, just sultry and equatorial, passion fruit brings the tang. However, the texture is lacking. It’s too thin and liquidy for my tastes. Refrigeration will help that, but still I think it could be thicker. Also: there was a hard disc of wax (paraffin?) covering the jam, which was tricky to get out of the jar – I thought this layer of wax was ixnayed by jammers years ago. Hmmmm.

Confiture Artisanale by L’Epicurien strawberry and mint jam:

This tastes like grandma made it. Smells like gorgeous, sunny, early summer, fleeting and full of possibility. I see seeds, I see little bits of shredded mint. A really nice homemade-tasting jam, and not too sweet, the mint is subtle, just a hint. Texture has that lovely uneven, homemade, slightly clumpy charm, with bits of stringy fruit. I like.

Christine Ferber white peach and Alsatian raspberry jam:

Alright, they don’t call Ferber the queen of jam for nothing. This is a textbook perfect jam. Not too much of a smell, but texture is perfect, set but not stiff, and even looks so photogenic spread on bread. Honestly, it’s a little too sweet for my tastes and the raspberry overpowers the peach flavour, but it’s still completely delicious, obviously made using the best-quality fruit and cooked with great care. Now I understand why this stuff retails for $15 at the chichi grocer up the street.

Vive les confitures Frenchies!

Montreal in winter: everything fades to gray and white, the earth sits frozen under a blanket of slush and ice, and leafless tree branches shiver in an unforgiving wind that adds the dreaded “wind chill factor,” making minus five feel like minus 18. So, as you can well imagine, fresh local produce is non-existent and canning exploits can slow down to a trickle. But the other day I got a little of the old canning mojo back after a long slump and so I went searching for the best darn dried figs I could find. My goal: to brew up a tasty batch of dried fig and vanilla jam.

What I learned on my search for plump, soft dried figs and not sad little fossilized figs, was to look for stickers that say “New Crop.” Meaning, these figs were picked this past season and so are the freshest possible dried figs. Hurrah! I found mine at my favourite Little Italy grocer-deli, Milano. The resulting jam is dense, dark brown and reminiscent of Fig Newtons. Maybe it’s the vanilla that lends that cookie-ish vibe, also its dense, crunchy-seedy dried fig texture. So, if you have fond childhood memories of snacking on Fig Newtons, you’re in for a treat.

Dried fig and vanilla jam

2 lbs dried figs, preferably “new crop”

5.5 cups water

2.5 cups sugar

juice of half a lemon

1 vanilla pod

Bring figs and water to a boil, turn off the heat and allow to soak for anywhere from a few hours to overnight. Remove the figs with a slotted spoon, reserving water. Cut off the tough stems and chop the rehydrated figs roughly. Return figs to the pot, adding sugar, lemon juice and vanilla pod which has been split it open, seeds scraped into fruit mixture pod thrown in too. Bring to a low boil and cook until desired thickness is reached (I cooked mine about 35 minutes), stirring often. Pour into hot clean jars then process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.

PS: On a more somber note, words can’t express the tragic insanity of the current situation  in Haiti. It’s the worst human tragedy since the tsunami of 2004. If you haven’t already donated, here’s a link to the CBC page that lists all kinds of charities that are hustling to help the most desperate people on the planet right now: http://www.cbc.ca/haitirelief/

As is my personal tradition, I have once again left my holiday shopping to the last minute. But with a small family, one brother living in Australia, a Jewish husband who doesn’t much care for the frenzied commercialism of Christmas, my list is thankfully short. I mainly shop at Ten Thousand Villages a few days before the 25th, for fair trade stuff like chocolate, flower pots, serving platters, weird tambourines, scarves etc., all made by fairly paid folks in India, Africa, South America and elsewhere. Some of it’s a little too “world” or hippie but some is not bad at all. Anyway, I’d rather buy crap made by a collective of well-paid villagers than crap made by indentured child slaves. And that is my holiday rant. Feel better? I do.

And now onto canning gift ideas. Here are a few things you can spend a few hours making and have under the tree by Christmas eve. Some are by me and some recipes are culled from the interweb. You have about 48 hours left. Now go!

- Cranberries are still hanging around grocery stores. Buy them fresh or frozen and make my cranberry walnut preserve or, even easier, my cranberry-orange jam. Both will be very yummy spread on leftover turkey sandwiches.

- This one comes from Food in Jars and involves jars but not canning: the gift of handmade spice blends. Pour spices (splurge on some high-quality stuff) into jars. Label. Wrap. Done.

- British chef Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s edible Christmas gift ideas published in the Guardian look yummy, especially the spiced nuts and crystallized citrus peel.

- Canning Across America has a sweet post about holiday canning, with a link to a Flickr pool of pics providing wrapping and labeling inspiration.

- Another English tip sheet: the UK’s Good Food Channel lists a selection of Christmas-related canning/preserving recipes for stuff like fig jam, cranberry-orange relish and pickled ginger for sushi lovers.

That’s it for now. Good luck and happy holi-daze to one and all.

G

I used to think beets tasted like dirt. But as with many taste sensations classically vilified by children – olives, onions, mushrooms, stinky cheese – I’ve come to love these most intensely purple of vegetables, freaky as they are (some have hairy rat tails, you know).

I lived in Australia for a few years and grew accustomed to having them on burgers (along with egg and pineapple – I know: weird). Slices of slightly sweet, pickled beet add deliciousness to any sandwich. How much do I love thee, beets? Let me count the ways: Borscht is the bomb and so is Russian beet salad. Also, any salad involving beets, goat cheese and walnuts. Roasted beets as a side dish are as comforting as mashed potatoes, only with more vitamins. And the beet goes on.

Here’s a little beet-y thing I canned yesterday that turned out awesomely: beet, cabbage and horseradish relish.

I basically followed a recipe from my New York Times, Craig Claiborne-edited cookbook from 1961, which I seem to have on high rotation lately (I partly based my Coronation grape and walnut conserve and cranberry and toasted walnut conserve on recipes from its pages, with updated instructions on canning with a boiling water bath).

This relish turned out tangy, earthy and slightly sweet, with the faintest bit of heat from the horseradish. Also, it’s very sexy in its fuchsia-ness. Looking forward to smearing it on sandwiches, roast meats and burgers.

Beet, cabbage and horseradish relish

4 cups finely diced or grated peeled beets

4 cups shredded cabbage (I used a combo of green and purple)

1 cup grated horseradish

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 3/4 cups vinegar

3/4 cups sugar

4 tsp salt

One ingredient at a time, process the beets, cabbage and horseradish in the food processor, then mix together in a bowl. Finely chop the onion by hand and add to vegetable mixture. Add salt and stir. Dissolve sugar in vinegar and add to vegetables. Boil for 15 minutes, then pour into hot, clean jars and process in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes.

Behold the Flemish Beauty.

Round these parts we call her Beauté Flamande. She’s an extremely hardy type of pear, which makes her one of the few pears that grows happily in Quebec. I’ve been buying them all fall at the market and recently decided to transform a few  into butter.

Here’s what I did: I looked over this recipe for spiced up pear butter from the blog Simply Recipes and this recipe for caramel pear butter (brown sugar provides the caramel-ness) from epicurious and then I went and did my own thang.

I call it spiced caramel pear butter. The star anise is somehow both pronounced and subtle and some bites provide a surprise hit of crystallized ginger. It’s a yummy, somewhat sophisticated fall-winter toast topper that would pair real nice with some high-quality vanilla bean ice cream.

Spiced caramel pear butter

4 lbs pears

1/4 cup unfiltered apple juice

1 lemon, juiced

2 cups brown sugar

1 tsp minced crystallized ginger

1 star anise

1/4 tsp cardamom

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp cinnamon

OK, pour the lemon and apple juices into a heavy pot. Peel pears and chop, adding them to the juice as you go to prevent them from turning brown. Cook over medium heat, stirring frequently for about 20 minutes or until the pears soften and release their juices.

Remove from heat and put the mixture through a food mill. Add sugar and spices and cook over medium heat for another 30-45 minutes, or until it reduces to a nice, thick, buttery consistency. Pour into hot, clean jars and process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. There you have it.