MAKING ELDERBERRY JELLY

First of all, if you think you can make elderberry jelly within an hour, think again. Clear your schedule for half a day.

It truly is best if you free your kitchen of all clutter before beginning. Jelly making is messy. (Do as I say – not as I do.)

Take your bucket of elderberries and dump them into a colander in the sink. Wash the berries thoroughly. You should definitely remove any bugs you find.

Get your 6-quart pot. (For years I made jelly in a 3-quart pot because that was all I had. It can be done but you have to watch your mixtures closely.) Elderberries grow in clusters. Removing them from their stems is tedious. I remove the largest stems and as many of the smaller ones as is practical.

Set the pot on the stove over high heat. A little water with the berries will start the juice flowing. They should cook for 15 or 20 minutes. Crushing the berries at this point is also helpful – if you have a potato masher.

Now that the berries are cooked, you need to strain them through cheesecloth or a jelly bag to be sure your jelly is free of berry pulp and seeds. I have neither at this time and have found cheesecloth to be marginally useful anyway. Making an online search – "how to make a jelly bag" – I discover others agree with me. Suggested substitutes are old pillowcases, old dishtowels, muslin, and panty hose -- reasonably clean. I love these folks! I find an old dishtowel in my rag bin which I fold to fit my colander. Somehow I manage to pour the cooked berries into the colander, rinse out the 6-quart pot, and then set the colander over the pot so that the juice will drip into it. (I don't remember how I managed that feat but I'm sure the transfer involved another bowl / pan / pitcher.)

Some people might allow a lot of time – like a whole day – for the juice to drip from the berries. I was anxious to get on with the process, which may be why I struggle with a lot of things these days. In the initial dripping I had two and a half cups but needed three. Apple juice is great for stretching the juice, but I don't have any. I do, however, have some Gala apples on hand, so I got out the juicer and juiced three apples. More mess. Grabbing my Pyrex measuring cup, I heated the apple juice in the microwave and poured it over the berries in the colander. Folding the dishtowel over the berries, I began to squeeze the juice out of my makeshift bag. Eventually the old fibers gave way and the "bag" burst open. Oh well – I have enough juice and to spare now. I managed to measure the juice and then pour it back into the pot for the actual cooking process.

Now, after an hour and a half of work, I am ready to begin the actual jelly making. "Read all instructions before beginning," state the instructions that come with the Sure-Jel. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well, actually I did read them – and read them again – and read them again. It looks as though I must boil the juice with the pectin and then again after the sugar is added, stirring constantly, while simultaneously preparing the jars with hot water. "I can do that," I say to myself. Oh – and I need the juice of an actual lemon. Fortunately I have one, so I find Ina's glass lemon juicer and juice the lemon. Yet another dish to wash. "Holy mackerel!" says Mike, coming upon a kitchen in disarray. He reaches for the camera.

Bottom line: Four and a half cups of sugar is added to the nasty-tasting three cups of juice, instantly transforming it into a tasty substance. Go figure! Hot jars were filled with the hot, sweet substance and that set up nicely. Would I do it again? Actually – I probably will. KW

ELDERBERRIES

Hallie sent a message to tell us about their trip back to Seattle from the homestead: "We stopped down the grade, put our jeans on and trolled for some elderberries. Unfortunately, most were not yet ready. Nick was very disappointed. Our plan was to pick as many as we could and leave them at the town house for jam. I tried to console him and told him that one day mom would make him a very happy man with the gift of elderberry jam."

How strange, I thought, that Nick seems to be a connoisseur (this is when it so works to have spell check) of jams and jellies. Mike and I eat so little of it. Then I had to laugh at myself because what I know of jams and jellies I learned from my dad who truly would have matched Nick spoonful for spoonful. I can see the two of them judging the jams and jellies at fairs. Daddy had his favorites and elderberry was one of them. He would stop along Gilbert Grade on his way home from the farm and pick elderberries in season in order to make jelly. And when Mike had a taste of Daddy's elderberry jelly, he was also smitten. Some people say elderberry jelly is too much trouble when you can buy grape. Not Mike. He says he can tell the difference and there's no comparison. I can tell you one thing: grapes are edible to begin with while elderberries are not.

Mother, too, took pride in a batch of jelly well-made and sealed. We had a crabapple tree at the Orofino house. Mother loved that tree. It grew next to the house and was tall enough that she could see the beautiful blooms through the upstairs bathroom window in the spring. When the fruit was ready, she would make crabapple jelly, straining the juice well in the process. (She was more careful and precise in her cooking than my dad.) She would hold up a jar of the finished product and say, "Isn't that beautiful!" You could almost see through it. Sadly, the roots of the old crabapple tree invaded the sewer system and it had to be cut down – probably in the early '60s. Mother was inconsolable.

Friday morning I invited Mike and Nellie to hike with me around the field behind the house. We found at least six elderberry bushes / trees with plenty of berries – just not ripe. Mike thinks they may never be ripe. I think it's just too soon. According to a website I discovered, elderberries.com, the berries ripen late August / early September. Frankly, I think it can be later than that in this part of the country. I remember making elderberry jelly in October.

"There's a stand of elderberry trees on Miller Road," Mike said upon return from a bike ride. I didn't think much of that until I pedaled past the same stand the other day. Powdery, purplish, ripe elderberry clusters beckoned to me. I don't know who owns the property but the trees are on the "hill" side of the road in steep, rocky territory. Surely no one would care if we picked a few elderberries.

Yesterday afternoon (Saturday, August 30), armed with a 2.5 gallon bucket, Mike and I hopped on the little blue 4-wheeler and rode over to the elderberry stand. Wow! And what a stand it is! I nicknamed it "Elderberry Alley." Once you step down from the road, you see the elderberry trees going on and on. The deer trail through it makes access easy. Mike picked a few clusters and made like he was ready to leave. "Oh no!" I explained. We need the bucket full of elderberries in order to have enough juice to make jelly. We had to pick from many of the trees in order to find enough ripe, reachable berries.

We were just exiting Elderberry Alley when a voice from above said, "Hello Folks!" We explained our mission and he said, "And you aren't hurting a thing." He introduced himself as the manager of the hunting club. (John Richardson has leased most of his fields to a local hunting club.) He further explained that bow hunting season was opening that afternoon and he was there setting up some blinds. He asked if we were related to the Warnocks that live on the edge of the canyon – or if we were those Warnocks. We said we were those Warnocks. Great! Now the whole of Gilbert could know the Warnocks pilfer elderberries. We can't get away with anything!

UNBIRTHDAYS

What a day! I got up feeling rather blue anyway and the day just didn't seem to unfold in a productive way. A project just wasn't working out the way I thought it should. I was confused about a percentage discount. The chocolate birthday cake I made from scratch didn't turn out. Messages to my friend kept coming back to my inbox marked "permanently fatal errors." (That sounds terrible, doesn't it?) I was beginning to think I might just be losing it. And if I wasn't losing it, would I ever be really good at anything?

After lunch, I decided I should get out of the house – take my bike ride. Despite Mike's calls, Nellie came with me. She ran ahead of me, eagerly watching for me at bends in the road and corners. I don't like to take her because I can't control her, but it was obvious she really wanted a good run. So, past Curfman's and down Miller Road we went -- all the way to the end without incident. On the way back, it was clear Nellie was getting hot but still keeping up well. I was just approaching the Miller's – had geared to get the most momentum from the downhill before the uphill – when my bike locked up somehow. Looking down I noticed my right shoelace was caught in the chain. I was grateful to see it was not entangled; it had just happened. As my bike came to a standstill, I realized I would need to act quickly. I quelled the rising panic – the fear of falling -- and realized that it was important to move my left foot from the clip, which was not my inclination. I managed to get my left foot onto the ground and save myself from a spill. I fixed my shoe lace, got back on the bike, and whizzed down the hill, only to throw my chain when I shifted on the uphill. Mike has always been with me when I've thrown the chain before. It took me a few minutes to figure out what I had to do, but I was eventually successful and able to ride on home. Nellie waited for me while I made the repairs.

When we got back, Nellie spent a good bit of time at the pond. Mike and I agreed she should not be scolded for coming with me. The run was punishment enough.
Here's a picture of Nellie taken yesterday at Cottonwood Butte -- especially for Deb. I had deleted it – I don't think it's very flattering – but it was still in the recycle bin. Something in the rocks caught her attention.

TOLO LAKE / COTTONWOOD BUTTE

Mike follows certain rules in life. One of the biggest is "Work before play." "Would you like to go to Grangeville today and do some geocaching? We could scrub the kitchen floor and cut the hollyhocks back, then have lunch in Grangeville . . . " I said okay.

I scrubbed the floor; he shook the rugs and put them back. I cut back the hollyhocks; he hauled the refuse to the burn pile. (To be fair, he also grubbed two or three of those hollyhocks out of the ground. It was fun writing it with that omission.) Then we headed out to Grangeville. Our first stop was at the replica mammoth display which provides some interesting interpretive information about the discovery of mammoth fossils at Tolo Lake in 1994. We then stopped at Asker's Harvest Foods where we picked up a few groceries. Then it was on to Subway to buy a sub and cookies for a picnic lunch at Tolo Lake.

Tolo Lake is the largest body of water on the Camas Prairie. A nice roadside stop has been constructed there with outhouse and picnic tables. We found a geocache and fulfilled the requirements for an "earth cache" (that's where you take a picture of yourself at the site and send it to the cache owner). We ate there and Nellie enjoyed poking around. AND –it's the regional mecca for bottlecaps. I picked up a dozen, including the coveted bright blue Twisted Tea cap.

Then we drove on to Cottonwood Butte. Our instructions were to walk the last ¾ mile beyond a certain gate. However, we lucked out – a man was going in to do some work and let us drive through provided we could be out within an hour. We were fine with that. I did wish we could have stayed longer and enjoyed the view on all sides. Here are a few photos from the summit. In my opinion it's too bad that the summit serves commercial use and is generally unavailable to the public.[The top photo is of Cottonwood Butte from a high point in June's field. Photo of Mike is at Tolo Lake near Grangeville. Botton photos are from Cottonwood Butte.] KW

MANAGING FOR TWO

Gazing into the refrigerator, Hallie commented half to herself: "You and Dad – have become – small container people." Judging by her tone, I guessed it was some sort of revelation for her. Is there a class of mankind known as "small container people?" Is it something I need to confess?

"Small container people," I thought to myself. Yes, it's true. I probably have two dozen half- and one-cup refrigerator containers purchased since the nest became empty. And if I see a sale on small containers, I just might stock up again. It's probably not a bad thing, but it does signal a life change.

Say you have a family and you fix a big dish of lasagna. You serve it for dinner and you have a fourth to a third of it left over. You put it in your three-cup casserole and if it's still in the fridge the next day (meaning your teen-agers didn't eat it at midnight), you serve it for lunch and it's gone. But when you are two people alone, you have to think very carefully about portions. Do you want to eat lasagna at every meal for the next week? Should you make the big casserole and freeze smaller portions for future meals? Or should you simply make a half portion to begin with?

Another issue is the space in the refrigerator. This year I stocked the farm refrigerator with produce and dairy items even at the risk of spoilage. I was so tired of packing produce back and forth, which also took its toll. Produce just doesn't survive the packing process well. As a result I have less room in the refrigerator and will work things down to the smallest possible container. That dab of cottage cheese goes into a half-cup Rubbermaid container. Those three last eggs get stored in an old margarine container so that I can eliminate the box. The remaining orange juice might fit in a jar. Etc.

At any rate, there's just so much the two of you can eat, and yet you want to share good eats. KW

WEATHERING THE LULL

You know how it is when you've looked forward to something for a long time -- then it comes -- then it's over. We had looked forward to Hallie's visit for four months, and it's not so much missing her as it is a feeling of "what's next?" Today it just seemed hard to get started on anything. This batch of pears finished drying. I tried a new zucchini bread recipe using brown sugar and oatmeal. I rode 9.65 miles on my bicycle and walked Nellie two miles. We also set up Mike's shotgun stations in the gully, and he seemed pleased with that. Still, there was a heaviness about the day.

I thought the hummingbirds were gone – no sign of them when we came in on Friday. Then Nick and Mike spotted one or two, so I made nectar and filled the feeders. But yesterday's wind and rain storm must have convinced them to move on. I haven't seen them today. The Calliopes were already gone. The ones that remained were probably Black Chins. At one point during the summer I was filling the feeders twice a day and keeping nectar on hand. No more until next year.

Lots of harvesting remains to be done in the area but our fields and the neighboring fields are harvested. Mike saw Kyle working on the old Plank place (just north of us) Sunday afternoon and went over to watch. He enjoyed riding the combine with Kyle for a while.

The Olympics are over. Mike finished the book he was reading. I finished sewing my quilt blocks together. It seems like we've come to a lot of finishes all of a sudden. We're just at the point of some changes. KW

HALLIE & NICK VISIT THE HOMESTEAD

Hallie and Nick arrived Saturday morning and spent the weekend here at the homestead. It was wonderful having them here. They played croquet with Mike in the front yard and we even managed a quick game of Scrabble last night.

We did some other things as well. Hallie customized my laptop for me and it's great. I peeled a box of pears for the dehydrator. The dried pears have been a hit. I'll probably dry several boxes of pears this year.

Sunday afternoon Hallie and Nick met Clinton and Elisha in Orofino and they spent several hours floating on the Clearwater. Then they all came here for dinner -- grilled chicken, corn-on-the-cob, watermelon, and zucchini cake.

Hallie and Nick left today at noon. As if on cue, the sun began to wane as the sky darkened. The wind is blowing and the temperature has dropped. But "Kathy's new improved vintage sewing room" beckons. Life is good. KW