Fired with a housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked with homemade preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John was requested to order home a dozen or so little pots and an extra quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe and were to be attended to at once.
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
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By the time you read this, I’ll be some miles northwest of London at the wedding of two very dear friends: my catering partner Liv, and her soon-to-be-husband Sam. When I think of it now, I am incredulous when considering how little time we have actually known each other. Two years, in the context of our lives, is so short. But it has been enough for us to start a business, roast countless chickens, bake endless loaves of bread, and watch more episodes of Shonda Rhimes TV dramas than might seem possible. Liv and I bonded over our shared love of butter, of books, and Little Women. And so, I couldn’t imagine a better book to return to this week.
Determined to stock her home with preserves, newlywed Meg struggles all afternoon to make a currant jelly that never quite sets. It’s somewhat unsurprising, given the evidence we have of the March sisters’ cooking: when they take to the kitchen, bread is burnt, desserts are served with salt instead of sugar, and asparagus is boiled to oblivion.
While they are growing up, the family’s maid and cook, Hannah Mullet, makes cooking an occasional hobby for the sisters, rather than a daily necessity. But after she marries, Meg has to learn to cook herself. When her jelly goes wrong, she sits down in the kitchen and weeps, and it’s at this point in the story that I most identify with her. Arrriving at home with a friend in tow, John Brooke finds everything in chaos:
In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair. One edition of jelly was trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was burning gaily on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hopelessly liquid state, while Mrs Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat sobbing dismally.
Mr Brooke laughingly suggests they serve their guest some bread and cheese, but Meg declares she won’t see him and demands they go somewhere else: “You won’t have anything else here.”
Unlike poor Meg, Liv has the most impressive collection of jams, jellies, and preserves I’ve seen in some time. She could make this with her eyes closed. Though this recipe should be made in summer, when currants are in season, my version has had to wait for this week, and for this wedding. Thank goodness, then, for frozen berries – either bags of mixed currants, if you can find them, or mixed berries, which should leave you with blackberries to pick out and store for adding to your morning porridge.
Redcurrant and blackcurrant jelly
Makes enough to fill one 300g jar
Ingredients
600g redcurrants and blackcurrants
Approximately 200g preserving sugar*
*Currants are naturally high in pectin, so you don’t need to use a jam sugar with added pectin.
Equipment
Medium-sized non-reactive saucepan
Wooden spoon
Sieve
Muslin cloth
Plate
Clean jar
1. Wash the fruit, if fresh, and tip it into a stainless steel or enamel saucepan. Add two tablespoons of water. Over a low heat, bring the fruit to a simmer, squashing the currants open with a wooden spoon. Stir regularly to ensure the currants don’t catch on the bottom.
2. After about 10 minutes, pour the fruit and all liquid into a sieve lined with a piece of muslin or a fine cloth. Allow to strain overnight. Don’t push the fruit through, or try to rush it, or you’ll end up with a cloudy jelly.
3. The next morning, place a plate in the freezer. Weigh the liquid that has strained through the cloth, and pour it into a saucepan, adding the same weight of sugar. Place over a low heat and bring to a simmer. A small amount of jelly (as this will be) will only take about five minutes to reach setting point, so keep an eye on it. To test when it’s done, drop a small spoonful onto the frozen plate, count to 10, and then try to draw your finger through it. If it wrinkles, it’s ready. It will keep setting as it cools, so don’t panic that it seems too runny.
4. Skim any scum from the top and pour the jelly into a sterilised jar. Store for months, or eat as soon as it has set, on warm soda bread, with butter.
