In Praise of Peaches, Preserved
It’s the peach season.
Most years, I eat the peaches. But then, how many can I eat? Why not preserve them, I thought.
I asked Saleem, my vegetable and fruit vendor in my neighbourhood, if he had peaches. Yes, he said. Are they good, I asked? Oh yes, I’m sending you my best. Guardedly, I ordered a small amount.
They were OK, not much to write home about. I washed, blanched, peeled and cut them. I made a syrup of water and sugar over the stove, adding cloves and whole cinnamon.
After about ten minutes of cooking them gently, I filled two glass bottles with the peaches, pored the sugar syrup into them and screwed the yellow plastic lid on. They looked beautiful, bobbing up and down in the see-through jars, with the spices in dark contrast to the peachy look.
Every year, I make jams and so, in search of slightly better quality produce, asked my trusted and slightly up-market vendor Devinder if I could get 3 kilos of peaches, along with the same amount of plums and apricots. Yes, of course, he said. I organized a pickup by Mamchand, the trusted taxi pool owner in our neighbourhood, as I am still on lockdown.
The peaches arrived, firm to the touch with their blush of pink, yellow and sometimes a tinge of green (unripe). I unpacked them, put them in two bowls, ones that pleased my eye and were worthy of the peaches.
I filled the kitchen sink with water and dunked in most of the peaches. I scrubbed their surface, and they shone, and put them back in the two bowls. I had started a pot of water on the stove and as the water reached a boil, I put the peaches, one by one, into the hot water. For about 30 seconds each. Then I took them out, straight into a bowl with cool water. All this, so I could easily remove the skins of the peaches. I moved over to the dining table (where it’s a little cooler than the hot kitchen) and set myself up to peel the skins and separate the pulp from the seed.
It’s a tricky task. That’s what I love about cooking. I learn something new every time, every day. The peaches were juicy, and soon the handle of the knife in my right hand was slipping. So was my left hand that held the peach in place to be cut. I was prepared with paper and cloth towels. I had to stop and wipe my hands. But before I did that, I licked my fingers, to get an idea of how sweet the peaches were and how much sugar I would add when I cooked them. But really, I just love licking my fingers with the peach juice. It’s a rather divine.
Once the skins were off, the peaches glistened. I found I was salivating; this happens every time I make preserves — jams and marmalades.
Peaches cut, I took them to the kitchen and emptied them into the two pots on the stove to cook. I added some water and stirred them. As the mixture began to bubble a bit, I add the sugar, a bit at a time. And lemon juice, to ensure the longevity of the preserves.
I stirred the pots, off and on, ensuring that the mixture doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pot. I checked for the sweetness of the preserve. The peach pieces looked beautiful. The kitchen began to be filled with the aroma of peaches. Not only the kitchen, though. Some of it filtered into the dining and living area and up the stairs to the first floor.
After adding the sugar, the peaches turn colour, to a slightly darker hue and the more they cook, the darker they get. After testing their readiness on an iced plate, I turned off the flame. After ten minutes, I spooned them into sterilized glass jars and put on the lids.
Leaving them overnight to settle, I check them the next morning. The preserves must be firm, otherwise they will spoil, as it suggests the water hasn’t evaporated completely. I proceed to do the labels on my computer. I love this part. Then comes the cutting of the labels and sticking them on the bottles. When I first started making jams, marmalades, and chutneys years ago, my husband said I should do it more efficiently by buying stick on labels.
But I dismissed these suggestions. It would deprive me of the enormous pleasure of the process of making the labels.
My cooking projects need planning. I like to be free when I venture into them. So, I choose days when I am not pre-occupied with other things, activities that will break the day and need my attention. I like to cook in the mornings, as it’s a little cooler in the North Indian heat at this time of the year. The fruit requires attention at every step of production. It wants to be noticed. Not just noticed, but indulged. I’m happy to indulge. It's in my interest because I get the best product.
Every year, my enjoyment of the jamming process increases. From the start to finish, I live every moment of it. I enjoy the attention to detail that is essential to create a beautiful product. I’m proud of what I make and happy to share it with others.
In many ways, preserving fruit is preserving myself.
