Confiture d’abricots aux amandes
When I spend time at my parents’ house in the Vosges, my mother and I start out by making a mental list (we haven’t reached the point of actually writing down that list – yet) of what we’re going to cook, bake and eat. One of the items I mentioned this time was jam : over the years, I’ve often seen my mother make jam, I’ve made jam on my own, we’ve talked about jam together, but we had never made jam together.
At the Gérardmer market, one of the produce stalls had abricots pour confiture : it was not altogether clear why they were labelled so, but they were a bit smaller than the regular ones, maybe not as pretty, and in any case cheaper. There was just one crate left, and we bought it with that special thrill you get from snatching the last of anything.
A couple of days later, we set out to make some apricot jam, taking our apricots out onto the garden table to stone and slice them. And you know the ad that says “great cheese comes from happy cows”? Well, I’m certain that great apricot jam comes from apricots prepped with your mom in a sunny garden, while your boyfriend and your father are having a chat, and your sister is taking a nap inside.
The cool thing about making jam with my mother, besides the simple words “making jam with my mother”, is the industrial proportions it can take. When I’ve made jam on my own, I’ve usually shot for about two jars per batch : I don’t consume that much jam (Maxence hardly any), I want variety, I have limited storage space, and most of all I’ve had to rely on the pricy Parisian produce stalls for supplies. But with my mother, it’s more about making twelve jars at a time, using fruit that we’ve picked ourselves, or bought, for a reasonable price, at the market.
And there’s a definite, indisputable fun factor in putting two kilos of fresh apricots together with two kilos of sugar in a big pot, cracking the stones open to get the almonds inside, bringing all of it to a rolling boil, and stirring it with a long wooden spoon like some kind of witchy decoction, until my mom officially declares it done, at which point you get to pour the piping hot mixture into the jars you’ve prepared and lined up, using the extra-convenient-especially-made-and-mighty-smart funnel tool (my mom’s got gear) and a big ladle. Just be extra-careful to distribute the apricot almonds evenly among the jars, because they really are the best part, aren’t they?
Of course, now comes the hard part, the one in which you have to wait and let the jars rest, allowing them to age on a shelf in the cool cellar. But in a few months, when these glowingly orange jars are nice and ripe, you can be sure one of them has my name on it.
Important note : this apricot jam recipe uses the almonds inside the stones. This gives the jam a particularly good flavor, and makes for a few lovely crunchy bites per jar. However, the almonds inside apricot stones, like bitter almonds, contain hydrocyanic acid. The human body has no problem dealing with it if ingested in small doses, but 30 to 50 almonds eaten in a short amount of time can kill an adult! It’s perfectly safe to include a few in a jar of jam, but just keep the warning in mind.
