In other words, autumn means jelly.
All summer, I have been putting up berry and peach jams, tomato you-name-its, and beans. But autumn brings the jellies: apple, mint, grape. As a kid I made grape jelly with my mother every year, and I miss the arbor of Concord grapes with their deep, staining skins and sour middles, and the color of the jelly: black until you hold it to a sunny window, when the sun would strike cobalt through the jar. This year the grape jelly is sorely lacking, as there are no Concord grape vines running through my back yard yet, but we did liberate some grapes that were vining up an old maple tree at the local apple orchard. Their seeds are overwintering in the fridge and will, with luck, be next year's baby grape vines, and the future's jars of purple goodness. The mint is running amok through the herb garden and will be put up soon, with its yellow-green topaz color. This week is for the apples.
We picked up a bushel of apples last week through the local CSA, and have enjoyed our fill of pie and sauce. Now that the skins are starting to redden to the point of overripe, it's time for jelly-making. This year's batches jelled in the pot before they even reached a boil, there was so much natural pectin, and the house smells heavenly.
And then there's the color, pretty even today with the rain beating down outside. It's closer to a watermelon color than apple, thanks to the overly red skins. Maybe it's what it represents to me that really matters - warmth, memories of canning with my mother, the promise of fresh jelly through the winter - but there is nothing quite like the color of apple jelly to warm a chilly day: soft pink, translucent, its bubbles suspended perfectly. It's the little things. :)
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