I have a confession to make: I’ve always been terrified of canning. Something about botulism, combined with a conviction that the whole mess would blow on me, has always kept me from attempting it. I wanted to do it; I wanted to be one of those Ma Ingalls types who made preserves out of green tomatoes to eat with our baked beans all winter long (never mind that no one in my family really likes baked beans that much).  I even bought myself a home canning kit about four thousand years ago. It consisted of a round rack for holding the jars during processing in the water bath, a scientifically engineered set of tongs for moving the jars around, and a few other clever tools, like a plastic wand with a magnet on the end for snagging the rings and lids while they were in the boiling water.  This lovely set languished in my kitchen for years, certain parts of it disappearing over time. All that’s left today is the wand with the magnet. Canning was out of the question.  Absolutely.

Then I read about jam making in several sources, most recently the June Bon Appetit, in which Molly Wizenberg talks about making strawberry jam with pick-your-own berries.  Well, I didn’t have those, but my friend Shannon in Produce told me that the strawberries had been delivered the day before. Uh-oh. Day-old berries? What else could I do? I bought a flat.

A flat of strawberries makes about four batches of jam. Four batches of jam is . . . well, a lot of jars, depending on how big they are. For me, it made a dozen small jars (8 oz.) and 4 large ones (32 oz.). 

The thing I discovered about jam making is that the jam itself is a cinch. Hull the berries, toss them in a pot with sugar and lemon juice, cook down to the gelling point, and spoon into the jars. What no one tells you is this: sterilizing and processing jam is a real pain.  Unless you have a massive commercial stockpot, all those jars aren’t going to fit in one pot; you’ll have to do them in batches. Now, granted, I did make four batches, but even if I’d made only one, I still don’t have a pot large enough to hold all the jars and lids. Nor, for that matter, do I have a rack that will fit in the pan and hold the jars up off the bottom of the pan while they’re in the water. I found some egg rings in my Random Cooking Thingies drawer that did the trick nicely, or you could use cookie cutters held together with paper clips in an approximately round shape, or you can just use the rings that go on the jars.

Some of my jam came out fairly thin, an outcome for which I was prepared because I didn’t use any commercial pectin and just allowed the jam to gel as much as it would on its own.  Mark Bittman, in How to Cook Everything, offers pectin instructions for those who are determined to have a jam product that looks more like what you can buy in the store.

But the real test was eating it. All my jars seemed to form a seal, so that was in my favor.  I made some toast, spread a thin slick of butter on it, and added the jam. I ate it, and in 24 to 36 hours I had still not developed any signs of botulism (24 to 36 hours is the incubation period for botulism; don’t ask how or why I know this). So at least one jar is good. I’ll hope the rest are too. 

In the meantime, if you want to take your own stab at strawberry jam, here’s the recipe I used:

Strawberry Jam

adapted from multiple sources, including the June Bon Appetit, and Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything

Makes about 3 pints of jam

• 6 cups of hulled strawberries
• 3 to 4 cups of sugar
• 1 to 4 tablespoons of lemon juice
• 3 to 6 teaspoons liquid pectin (not necessary, but can be used if a thicker jam is desired)

Place one or two small plates or saucers in the freezer. 

Place fruit in a large saucepan and crush fruit with a potato masher or fork.  Add 3 cups sugar and 1 tablespoon lemon juice. Turn heat to medium-high. Cook, stirring almost constantly, until the sugar dissolves and the mixture liquifies. Taste and add more lemon juice if necessary.

Turn heat to low and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the fruit has broken down and the mixture is thick, about 30 minutes. Test for gelling by removing a plate from the freezer and putting a dollop of jam on it. Place plate in the refrigerator for two minutes; if the jam has gelled, remove to jars and process (see below). If not, let cook for a few more minutes and try again, adding more sugar or liquid pectin (if desired). Another tip: an instant-read thermometer can be used; all jam gels at 224 degrees F.

While the jam is cooking, wash jars, rings, and lids with hot soapy water. Sterilize jars in a pot of boiling water for ten minutes. Remove and ladle jam into hot jars. Wipe the necks of the jars with a damp cloth, then place lids and rings on the jars, and place jars back in a hot water bath for 10-15 minutes. (If you used the rings as a platform to hold the jars while sterilizing, you’ll need to find an alternative for the final processing.)

Remove jars from the bath and allow to cool to room temperature. I’ve read that you’re supposed to remove them without tipping them, but I’ll be 100% honest: it was all I could do to remove them without dropping them, much less tipping them.  In fact, I did drop three of them on their heads in the boiling water, and much cursing followed. The jars seem to be fine in spite of this.

All pictures by The Modern Apron

This was the case as I was leafing through the May issue of Food & Wine magazine, and came across Grilled Sour Cream-Marinated Shrimp. The article, which was primarily about the home kitchen of New York chef Suvir Saran, caught my eye because of his 60″ Viking stove. Once I had finished seething with envy, I read the recipes and was interested in the shrimp because while I’ve often heard of marinating meat in yogurt, I’d never heard of using sour cream before. Also the list of spices included some of my favorites — I adore garam masala.

My husband, ever eager to fire up the grill, agreed to have these as an appetizer one evening. Let me assure you that this recipe makes a generous appetizer. It would have been fine as a main course.

On a beautiful sunny afternoon, I thawed some shrimp we had in the freezer and mixed up the marinade. For aesthetic purposes, I scattered the spices over the peeled shrimp before adding the sour cream. The recipe actually calls for mixing the sour cream and spices, and then stirring in the shrimp.

After three hours of marinating in the fridge, we were ready to grill.  Alex threaded the shrimp onto the skewers and went off to do the grilling.

The result was beautiful, rich, tender, and garlicky. The sour cream made the shrimp almost velvety, and the spices mingled with the butter and tasted like something you’d get at a really top-notch Indian restaurant. I love being able to make things like that in my own home. We didn’t have the chat masala, nor the limes, but these were still stunning. If you are not a huge fan of garlic, you could reduce the number of cloves; six cloves is quite garlicky.

Grilled Sour Cream-Marinated Shrimp
from Food & Wine magazine, May 2008

makes 4 servings

• 1 cup sour cream
• 6 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 teaspoon cumin seeds
• 1 teaspoon garam masala
• 1 teaspoon cracked white and black peppercorns
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
• 16 jumbo shrimp, shelled and deveined
• Salt
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/2 teaspoon chat masala for sprinkling
• Lime wedges, for serving

In a large, shallow dish, whisk the sour cream with the garlic, cumin seeds, garam masala, peppercorns, ground cumin, ginger, and turmeric. Add the shrimp and coat thoroughly with the marinade.  Cover and refrigerate for 3 hours.

Light grill. Remove the shrimp from the marinade and thread onto skewers; season with salt. Oil the grates and grill over high heat until almost cooked through, 2 minutes per side. Brush the shrimp with the butter and grill until glazed and just cooked through.  Sprinkle the shrimp with the chat masala and serve with lime wedges.

Note: Chat masala is a spicy, tangy Indian spice blend, and is available at Indian markets.

Pictures by The Modern Apron.

For this reason, I love my cooking magazines. Every month they offer the chance to expand my cooking horizons and add recipes to my collection that give me a place to turn when an odd craving strikes. In just the last couple of months I’ve gathered recipes for dishes from Cambodia, Israel, Greece, and Turkey. The supermarkets in my area are surprisingly well stocked with unusual ingredients, so I can almost always get the ingredients I need, and if I can’t, a fabulous international district is just a short walk from my office in the city.

Here, for instance, is a recipe for an Ethiopian beef stew that really does taste as good as anything I’ve had in a restaurant. It came from an old issue of Sunset magazine. The stew can be as spicy as you like, and the lentils are a wonderful contrast for it. If you want to make the bread, it’s a nice authentic touch, but it’s not strictly necessary.

Beef Stew in Spicy Berbere Sauce
from Sunset magazine, March 2006

serves 6

If you can get the fenugreek, it really does add a little something. I’ve made it with and without, and there’s just a little more authentic flavor if you do use it. You can reduce or increase the amount of cayenne to suit your preference for heat. I’m not a huge fan of super-spicy things, so I usually cut it down to a teaspoon or so.

• 2 medium onions, quartered lengthwise
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
• 1 tablespoon each ground paprika and cayenne
• 1 teaspoon each ground cumin and fenugreek
• 1/2 teaspoon each ground turmeric, cinnamon, and cardamom
• 1/4 teaspoon each ground cloves and allspice
• 1 can (14 1/2 oz.) crushed tomatoes in purée
• 1/4 cup dry red wine
• 2 1/2 pounds boned beef chuck, fat trimmed, cut into 3/4-inch chunks
• Salt

1. In a food processor, pulse onions until very finely diced (almost puréed).

2. Melt butter in 4- to 5-quart pan over medium-high heat. Add onions and stir until browned, about 10 minutes.

3. Add ginger, paprika, cayenne, cumin, fenugreek, turmeric, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and allspice; stir until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add tomatoes, wine, and beef; bring to a simmer, then cover, reduce heat, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until beef is very tender when pierced, about 2 hours. Add salt to taste. 

Lemony Lentils

from Sunset magazine, March 2006

serves 6

I always use yellow split peas for this, which I have to believe are the same thing as yellow lentils because I’ve never seen truly yellow lentils anywhere. Green, brown, red, yes; yellow, no. Even if I’m wrong and there really are yellow lentils, the yellow split peas work just fine and taste great.

• 2 tablespoons butter
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 cups yellow or brown lentils, sorted for debris and rinsed
• 4 cups chicken broth
• 1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
• Grated peel from 1 lemon (yellow part only)
• 1/4 cup lemon juice
• Salt and pepper
• Chopped cilantro and lemon wedges

1. Melt butter in a 3-quart pan over medium-high heat. Add garlic and stir until just beginning to brown, about 1 minute.
2. Add lentils and stir to coat with butter, then add broth. Simmer, covered, until lentils are tender but not mushy, 20 to 30 minutes. They will thicken as they cool.
3. Stir in ginger, lemon peel, juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve with chopped cilantro and lemon wedges on the side.

Injera

from Sunset magazine, March 2006

serves 6 (12 flatbreads)

You can use buckwheat flour, which is more widely available than the traditional teff flour. However, I found teff flour at my local grocery store.

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups buckwheat flour
• 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 2 eggs, beaten
• About 3 cups club soda

1. In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, and salt. Add eggs and club soda and whisk until batter is smooth. It should have the consistency of pancake batter; add more club soda if needed.
2. Spray a 10-inch nonstick frying pan lightly with cooking oil spray and set over medium heat. When hot, pour 1/3 cup batter into the pan, tilting to coat most of the bottom. Cook until flatbread appears bubbly and dry on top, 2 to 3 minutes; do not turn.
3. Slide bread onto a serving platter. Cover with a kitchen towel and keep warm in a 200° oven while you cook remaining breads.
4. Place one injera flat on each of six dinner plates and top with stew. Serve with remaining injera to scoop up the food.

They have features on Australian (and some UK-based) chefs, including Nigella Lawson, Rick Stein, and Bill Granger, and columns like Tuesday Night Cooking, and Real Fast Food, which are just a joy for those of us who must plan and cook a dinner at the speed of light.  There are strong Asian and Italian influences in the food, but they also do an issue devoted to French food, and “mod oz” recipes that are a fascinating look at how the Australian food scene has evolved.

Recently I decided to make the Tomato Bread Soup from the April issue.  April, of course, is smack in the middle of Australia’s autumn, so the recipe features start to be more heavier, heartier fare.  However, since it was made with canned tomatoes, this soup is a perfect transition piece for either end of summer.  It’s autumn and the days are getting shorter and chillier and you want some nice warm soup?  Perfect.  Or it’s spring, and the days are getting longer, but they’re still chilly and it might even be raining and you want some nice warm soup?  Here you go.

The recommended garnish is for torn basil and a drizzle of good olive oil, which would be lovely, I’m sure, but I used a swirl of homemade pesto sauce because I had it on hand. 

Tomato Bread Soup
from Delicious magazine, April 2008
serves 4-6 people who want something warm, bright, and versatile

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped (more to taste)
2 14oz cans of diced tomatoes
2 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 loaf stale Italian bread, crusts removed, insides torn up
Salt and pepper, to taste
Garnish of choice

Saute onion and garlic in olive oil over medium heat for 8-10 minutes, until soft, but not browning. Add tomatoes, and let cook 8-10 minutes more until tomatoes start to break down. Add broth, bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 10 to 15 minutes until reduced slightly. Add bread and cook 20-25 minutes until thick. Season with salt and pepper. The consistency should be something like porridge. Add more broth if necessary.

I also found that my bread wasn’t quite stale enough, so I broke out the stick blender. A food processor or a traditional blender could also be called into service, but don’t overdo the blending—the idea is to have a thick, rustic feel to the soup.

Garnish as desired. The original recipe calls for another tablespoon or so of really good olive oil, plus half a dozen leaves of basil torn up, per bowl.

I am hopelessly addicted to Australian cooking magazines.  Particularly Donna Hay magazine, which contains pictures that are amazingly, breathtakingly, painfully beautiful, and recipes that practically take you by the hand, lift you off of the couch and lead you into the kitchen, pressing a spatula into your hand and whispering, “Cook, now.” 

The allure of this magazine for me, beyond the incredible pictures and fabulous recipes (what, there’s more?) is the delightful fresh twist on recipe inspiration.  The columns in most cooking magazines fall primarily into two categories: theme inspired by ingredient, or theme inspired by event.  Donna Hay’s team takes it a step further, and finds inspiration in the world around them: folded, paper thin, white, stacked.  The recipes in these sections may be for sweet or savory, appetizer, main or dessert. 

For those who share my addiction (or become similarly hooked after reading this and investigating) there are two ways to get a “fix.”  The first is by subscribing to the magazine through their website.  It’s not cheap, but the comfort of knowing that there’s a new issue on my way to me every other month is well worth the price.  The second is by going to a larger bookseller or newsagent, and buying it.

If you chose to subscribe, I would remind you that antipodean seasons are opposite of the Northern hemisphere.  Be prepared to receive a December/January issue urging you to invite your mates over for a New Year’s celebration cooked on the barbie with drinks served out of the esky on the deck (barbie = bar-b-que grill, of course; esky = cooler).  On the plus side, if you subscribe, you’ll be able to reach back two issues and grab the one for the appropriate season when that season arrives.  This is what I do.

If you choose to frequent your local newsagent, you can learn from my sad experience: most of these places get only a few issues, and they may sell out quickly.  However, because there’s a delay in the shipping, they usually have the issue for the correct season on the rack, so you don’t find yourself standing there in shorts and t-shirt flipping past pictures of leg of lamb and prime rib roasts more fitting for autumn or deep winter.

The issue on the newsstand right now is #35, Spring, October/November 2007.  Highlights include features on Spring Essentials: Crunchy Salads, In Season: Basil, How to Cook: Pound Cake, Inspired: Citrus (which has a wonderful lemon tart recipe) and Favourite Things: Dairy (which includes instructions on how to make ricotta cheese, along with recipes using it).

Since ricotta cheese is astonishingly simple to make, here’s the process (it’s not even much of a recipe):

Ricotta Cheese
from Donna Hay Magazine, Issue #35
makes 1 ½ cups of cheese

6 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons white vinegar

Line a colander with cheesecloth, and set it over a large bowl.  In a large saucepan, warm milk over medium heat until it reaches 176 degrees F (use a candy thermometer to monitor the temperature).  Remove pan from heat and add vinegar.  Curds will start to form immediately.  Let sit for 5 or so minutes, then gently (to keep curds from breaking up) scoop curds into prepared colander and allow to drain for another 5 to 10 minutes.

You can add a pinch of salt to the milk as it’s heating, if you like.  Fresh ricotta tastes like spring, it really does.  It’s soft and bright-tasting, like a day in early spring when the weather is just turning.  Of course you can use it to make things—lasagna, ricotta cheesecake, manicotti—but I must tell you it is delicious eaten for breakfast with a handful of pistachios or cashews and a drizzle of honey.

N.B. Another great way to get acquainted with Donna Hay is to check out her cookbooks.  They’re as beautiful and useful as her magazine, but come out much less frequently.  Us addicts can’t wait two years!  Her most recent book is called Instant Entertaining.