Damsons
September is the month when I most miss Spywood, the tumbledown cottage, half-hidden in the Montgomeryshire woods that we shared with our friends the Malpas and Twyman families and where we spent many blissful holidays. In August and September there was always an abundance of fruit, bilberries on the Stiperstones, blackberries everywhere, crab apples and sloes in the hedgerows, in the garden sweet yellow plums, apples and – my favourite – damsons. One year we picked 70lb, which we shared and gave to friends. We used to bake fruit pies and crumbles and I learned how to make jams, jellies, ice cream and sloe gin.
I planted a damson tree in my garden at Ordish Apartments. This year, for the first time, it produced about 6 lbs of fruit. But these are more like little plums – dumbed down damsons, I call them – not the real thing, with that deep purple bloom and intense, tart flavour that is transformed by cooking. Where can I find some proper damsons?
The WG’s top tip: You can buy damsons on eBay – would you believe it? (if, like me, you are too lazy to get up early enough for Nine Elms market)
I buy 10lb. Now I can make damson cheese again, just like Spywood and just like my Ma used to make with fruit from my Aunty Betty’s cottage in Chorley, Shropshire, nearly seventy years ago – lovely memories and a delicious preserve. I am in my element. (Life would be just perfect if only I could eat it.)
Harvey’s grapes
Harvey has a large grape vine in his front garden. In past years he has made very palatable wine, but now he doesn’t want the hassle. This year there is a bumper crop (13lb.) It strikes me that the world is divided into two tribes, those who make jam and know exactly what to do when confronted with 13lb of small, seeded grapes and those who don’t and are mystified by the rituals that follow.
Our little group gets to work – Harvey and Jane set off to buy a jelly bag from Lakeland in Wimbledon (retail heaven for the jam making and baking tribe) and Sumi goes in search of preserving sugar. Harvey and Jane pick the grapes and I join them for a jolly afternoon, washing and stripping them ready for the preserving pan and straining overnight through the jelly bag. I have brought some home-made bread and damson cheese. Harvey and Jane tuck in with relish.
We process the grapes, in three batches and we end up with several pints of delicious juice and three jars of grape jelly. Was it worth all that effort? You decide. We had a lot of fun and the grapes did not go to waste.