Garlickly Lambs-quarters with Orange Juice

In my CSA box, I found lambs-quarters, which excited me because I'd read about them in my foraging books, but never tried to pick them (or find them for that matter). Some people apparently don't like them very much because they can have a strong flavor -- though not as strong as spinach, and keeping that in mind, I decided to try putting them together in a way that would hide that strong flavor if I found it unpleasant. I also decided to make only half the lambs-quarters I received so that if I didn't like them I didn't have to eat a lot of them and if I did like them, well, I'd have some leftover.

I should mention that other common names for lambs-quarters include goosefoot (apt, based on leaf-shape) and pigweed (because pigs like to eat it). According to Edible and Medicinal Plants in Wild (and Not So Wild) Places, lambs-quarters were brought to the United States from Europe. It usually grows 3-5 feet high, has no odor, and is very common. It does well in poor or disturbed soil, so look for it in overgrown fields, vacant lots, and (unsprayed) urban parks. Apparently it dries well and can be easily reconstituted (something new to try, perhaps).

So, when I prepared my lambs-quarters, the reasonable thing to do, it seemed, was to continue to use the ingredients I received from my CSA share -- plus add a little frozen OJ concentrate that I tend to have in my freezer. This dish turned into just enough for a small side dish and I loved it. I love the rich, green-earthly flavor, the tenderness of the plants, the way they smelled cooking. If you can get your hands on some lambs-quarters, do it. Then try this recipe. If you absolutely can't get your hands on them, you can use spinach. But go find lambs-quarters. Now.

Garlicky Lambs-quarters with Orange Juice
1 teaspoon oil (I used sunflower)
1/2 large garlic scape, chopped
2 tablespoons spring onion, chopped
1 large handful lambs-quarters, coarsely chopped
2 teaspoons frozen OJ concentrate
Dash salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Heat the oil in a medium-sized skillet over medium heat, then add the garlic scape and onion.

Garlic Scape & Onion

Saute 1-2 minutes, or until onion becomes translucent. Add the lambsquarters, orange juice, salt, and pepper and saute another 1-2 minutes, until lambsquarters wilt. Serve immediately.

Just before serving

Wild Fennel!

Just before I left for a trip back to the Midwest near the beginning of May, I discovered wild fennel growing near my apartment. How could I resist digging this up (once I got back)? Free fennel? Yes please.

Last summer, my friend Rachael and I ate fennel a lot. We sauteed it with orange juice and onions. We created thin slices for salad -- I don't remember what else we did. I was pretty happy to eat it raw (and this despite me not liking the taste of licorice, go figure).

Fennel among Ivy

Mostly, with the case of this fennel, I'm excited for the opportunity to "forage" someone's forgotten fennel. It's growing up in a narrow strip of dirt, mostly overtaken by some sort of ivy, in my alley, and near where the garbage cans (in theory -- I've never actually seen them there) are stored to protect them from deer. Fennel's pretty easy to recognize because of its lacy top, and the distinctive flavor of its greens (and bulb, once you've got it out of the ground).

Some fun facts about this plant that perhaps you already knew:

• Fennel is a primary ingredient in absinthe
• Prometheus used fennel stalks to steal fire from the gods (yes, I'm calling this a fact)
• It may help improve vision

In other words, cook your carrots & fennel together, or toss back a handful of dried fennel seeds as a breath freshener--and eyesight improver!

With this fennel, I opted for chopping it into a salad (or, rather, several salads -- this recipe will provide the ingredient quantities for 1 salad, but I had leftover fennel):

Fennel & Apple Salads with Raisins
1/4 bulb fennel, thinly sliced
1 medium apple, cored and chopped
1 tablespoon raisins
1/4 cup plain yogurt (more or less, to taste)

Mix all ingredients together and let marinate for 10-15 minutes so flavors will mingle. Eat outside.

Agave-Sweetened Blackberry Jam

Blackberries are plentiful and everyone's out picking them. I see people people walking around with mason jars half-filled or filled with blackberries. I see people (like myself) wandering around with plastic bags and tubs gathering berries. And I see people (also like myself) picking just a couple and eating them.

You can tell a blackberry is ready to pick when it practically melts off its stem while you're pulling it off the bush. Usually at this point, blackberries have lost their sheen and are dark and perfectly black. My blackberries weren't all fully ready when I made this jam, as you can see from the picture, but I needed enough to make jam because I had enough that were crushing under the weight of their fellow berries and forming blackberry juice.

For the past couple of weeks, my fingers have been stained with blackberry juice, which has been lovely--and has made me even more excited for making blackberry jam (especially once my friend Rachael shared that she was making blackberry jam while listening to Iron & Wine one recent evening).

This is a simple blackberry jam, sweetened with agave nectar since some of my berries were under-ripe and tart.

Agave-Sweetened Blackberry Jam 
1/2 gallon fresh blackberries, well washed
2-3 tablespoons agave nectar
1 tablespoon lemon juice

In a medium pot, over medium-low heat, cook the blackberries until soft, then stir in the agave nectar and lemon juice.

Continue to simmer over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally until the jam has thickened to the desired consistency.

This will keep in the refrigerator, in a closed container, for about 2 weeks, or you can freeze it.

Food Security - A Thrift Store Fronted Food Pantry

Depression-Era Photo (but what
should we call ourselves?),
Australia (I think)

My grandmother grew up during the Great Depression. Her father, fortunately, was a doctor and people always figured out a way to pay--or barter--for his services. They got chickens, or pies, or fresh bread in exchange for services. I'm sure it made my great-grandfather's life difficult from time-to-time--medical supplies, after all, cost money. But people were going hungry and my great-grandmother, as family legend has it, couldn't turn the people who came to her door asking for food away. We're all familiar with pictures of the long lines of men (and families and schoolchildren) standing, waiting for a bowl of soup. There was a system in place to help them that was much more public than the system in place now (namely, "food stamps," SNAP). But if someone came to most of our doors now and asked for food, we wouldn't think twice about turning them away. And possibly calling the police. There are exceptions of course, and I met one of these exceptions over the summer at the National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa, a woman--this year's Hobo Queen--who goes by the name Minneapolis Jewel. Yes, there are still hobos. Most are rubber tramps, it seemed, but there were a few leather tramps and a few who still ride the rails. MPLS Jewel apparently hosts hobos at her home, provides them meals, looks them in the eye when she passes them on the street. In other words, she allows herself to see people--and to help those in need, particularly those who are hungry.

So the fact that people are going hungry isn't exactly news to most people. The math is pretty simple: the economy is down, more people are unemployed or underemployed, food costs have been going steadily up thanks, in part, to increased gas costs, and a multitude of other factors. 1 in 5 American children live in poverty.  Globally, the number of children living in poverty is 1 in 4. We have more people who are going hungry now than a few years ago, no real surprise there, either.

At the Coronation Ceremony, 2011 Hobo Convention

That's a lot of hungry people (about 925 million, about 3x as many people as live in the US), especially in a world that produces more than 2,700 calories per person per day. And to be honest, there aren't a lot of options for hungry people in most parts of the world (for various reasons, chief among them food distribution and food equity issues). Some areas of the world have been deforested for corn and soybeans, displacing local agriculture. Some places, communal land has been bought by large multinationals which "are putting the land to better use"--at least in their humble opinions. And in some places, people now live in areas they didn't historically either because of social/political strife (we've done that in the US as well) or because of overcrowding.

In the US, soup kitchens and the like can supply a lot of calories to the hungry--but many are forced to supply very empty calories by way of highly processed foods (ding dongs, fruit cocktail in heavy syrup, and American cheese anyone?). A friend who volunteered at a soup kitchen in Austin, Minnesota (home of Hormel) bemoaned the lack of fresh food--of non-processed food in general--during his stint volunteering there. But figuring out how to change a system that's already in place isn't easy either, especially when you only have a limited amount of time per week to dedicate to the process--and a limited amount of time to spend in a particular community.

I've had the opportunity to volunteer in food pantries and soup kitchens across the United States. One large food pantry I volunteered in as part of a corporate-style "team building" exercise surprised me (and not just because it was the first time I'd volunteered in a food pantry) due to the sheer quantity of junk foods and severely damaged products that were being given out. This particular pantry relied primarily on canned and non-perishable goods supplemented by bread and other carb-intensive goods. I did my time, got my hands grimy on dirty/dusty/leaked on canned goods, and got out.

As an adult, my friend Rachael guided me to a local soup kitchen she'd volunteered at in the past. The chef that day, a regular volunteer for the previous 4 years, made me want to come back. I watched as he, and another regular volunteer, greeted the guests by name, used fresh ingredients, and navigated  around the church kitchen like pros. And I did go back, several days a week, for most of a year (until moving). I started to fall in love with  being there--being part of a community of people that cared about making a difference--even as I felt frustrated by seeing the same people week after week, people who weren't being given the resources to help themselves. How, a friend and I wondered, could we give people the tools to get them out of the cycle of poverty? We researched and talked about soup kitchens that provided various types of OJT. We talked about soup kitchens partnering with people in the community who could help out (let's review your resume, let's work on building your resume together, oh you do handy work? Funny, I have a leaky...) in various ways. And we volunteered under a woman who reminded us that sometimes what a person really needed was just someone who would listen. We didn't need to problem solve all the time. Sometimes we just needed to sit, to hear a story, to say "thank you for sharing."

Organic produce from a CSA share I inherited earlier this year

Later, at a Catholic Worker Farm (which donates most of the food it harvests to people and organizations in need) in central Iowa, Mustard Seed, I had the opportunity to go through this exercise again. We had one minute to talk with another person and our partner wasn't allowed to say anything, except "thank you" at the end. We could talk about anything we wanted. The experience, because I felt safe in the environment, was liberating. We should, perhaps, listen to each other more. A lot more. But part of what I loved about this exercise was that it came after sharing a meal together--with some people who started off the evening as strangers to one another. We ate together, we built a community of trust over food--and some of the food came straight off the farm. This experience, and experiences like it on this farm, made me more interested in the Catholic Worker movement (which began during the Great Depression) and in interning or volunteering on organic farms, perhaps by WWOOFing.

When I moved, I wanted to stay involved with local food, with food accessibility, with food security. I mentioned this to one of the first people I met in my new town and she connected me with a thrift store/food pantry. The thrift store helps support the food pantry and people can sign up for a very low bi-annual fee. In exchange the person who signs up is given at least 40 pounds of food each month, often more. There's a mix of canned and fresh goods, with a couple of local companies making major donations (and getting, I'm guessing, major tax write-offs a couple times a year). My first day volunteering at the thrift store, two people came in to pay their dues to join this organization and receive food. When you join, you take home a box of food--and when one of the dock-volunteers brought out the goods, one of the recipients started crying--out of joy.

This doesn't solve the problem of people who can't afford food in our country, not really. But maybe it's a start. For about $4 a month, the recipients get 40 pounds of food minimum, food that would otherwise be thrown out. Americans, just for the record, toss about 25% of domestically produced food. This, of course, says nothing about the food we import--and we do import a lot of food.

I also got involved with the local growers market, helping a friend who has a pie-business, and by talking to the local producers to find out not only what they produce, but how they produce it and when things in my new part of the country come into season. Part of the key to understanding food issues in a community is understanding how food moves within a community and how people do (or don't) have access to this food. Urban foraging happens a fair amount in this area and many people have chickens or roosters in their yards, not to mention produce-bearing lawns and trees. And it's not hard to find local and organic here, which is nice--but not true in many places.

And that's--the difficulty in finding local and organic food--where part of the problem lies. There are mixed messages about whether it's better to buy local or organic, given the choice of only one or the other for a product. I mentioned this in a recent post as well, but have since read more of Anna Lappe's Diet for a Hot Planet. Lappe outlines how much carbon dioxide--not to mention methane, ammonia, and other chemicals/gases--is released through the current food system (by the way, news to me, Cargill not only turned a profit when the 2008 food riots were going on around the world, but continues to turn a profit now, even as many are going hungry. A huge profit. The second quarter of this fiscal year their earnings tripled. I could rant longer--I could actually start to rant, but that's a different post, and maybe on my other blog.) and how the changes proposed by many of the major food companies (in which Cargill ranks high) that would, in theory, better the environment are actually little more than spin. Local, but non-organic, can still leave a large footprint according to Lappe--maybe larger than we think since we've been trained to focus on the transportation aspect of our food system (which Lappe argues is smaller than many of the other segments as far as environmental degradation is concerned). Organic but shipped from elsewhere? Well, you then factor in the (probable) decreased freshness, the transportation costs (immediate and deferred), and everything else that goes along with non-local foods. And don't even start on meat. Meat's a story all it's own--and Lappe spends plenty of time telling that story, if you're interested. It can leave a person overwhelmed.

Serving Stew for the Masses

If we factored in more of the deferred costs, yes, eating would be more expensive. Maybe fewer people could afford it than can afford it now. That's certainly what major players in the food system would like you to believe. "America feeds the world." I can't tell you how often I've heard this from farmers and students of agriculture. But what about all that food we throw out? What about the people going hungry right in our own neighborhoods?

That's where we need to get innovative. Maybe it's not a food pantry fronted by a thrift shop. Maybe it's a non-profit restaurant. Or restaurants and grocers giving leftovers and overstock/run to soup kitchens. Maybe  its like the stories my grandmother told me of being a girl during the Great Depression--when hobos would come to her parents' house looking for food because my great-grandmother always had something for them, even if it was just a sandwich or stone soup. Maybe it's remembering what it means to be a good neighbor. Or just remembering to leave everything a little better than we found it.

Salad with Saltwort, Fresh Berries, and Brie

My new farmers market has an abundance of things I've never heard of, but the one that first caught my attention was saltwort, aka Batis maritima. One of the local producers has carried this the past few weeks and the first week, the week I actually bought it (a sign said it went well in salads) I had trouble finding out anything about it on the internet.

Saltwort (aka turtleweed), according to the producer, grows in salt marshes. That was the knowledge I started off with--and I've found out since that it does particularly well after storms and can deal with water-logged soils for a long time, which makes it an early colonizer after devastating storms, like hurricanes. It's a succulent shrub that reaches a little over 3 feet in height. Apparently it grows better in less salty soil, which seems a bit ironic to me, since it likes salt marshes, but whatever. In the coastal, southern U.S. this is a moderately common plant (though not along all of the coastal areas). It also grows in Hawaii and California, as well as Central and South America. If you want to know more about it--such as the types of wildlife it attracts, there's plenty of information out there that doesn't actually say much at all. It attracts butterflies and has small flowers. It doesn't like shade. Et cetera. My definite impression is that most people don't know much about it--so if you know about saltwort and want to weigh in, I'd love your comments.

When I got home with my saltwort, I looked at it. It looked kinda like limp rosemary and tasted lightly salty when I picked off a couple leaves and popped them in my mouth. Salad was the suggestion I'd been given, so salad it was. I tend to trust what farmers say about how to prepare the things they're growing.

Certainly saltwort was too salty to stand alone in the salad, so I stripped the leaves off the woody stems and gave the saltwort leaves a base of lettuce. To dress up the salad, I added blackberries picked fresh from the backyard along with some of the heirloom tomatoes (also berries) I'd purchased at the growers market and some picked (and still warm) from the yard. And because I had it, and because I don't usually), I added some brie to the salad. I dressed it with a tahini-based salad dressing from my food co-op and was set with my pre-dinner salad.

I don't know where this might grow where I could actually forage it (my growers have cultivated this plant), but it's definitely a plant you can forage and in my attempts to get more people into the urban foraging movement, I encourage you to seek it out if you live where it grows!

Salad with Saltwort, Fresh Berries, and Brie
Note: The amounts below assume you're only serving yourself. Please increase accordingly for the friends that join you

Lettuce (I like salad and used about a cup and a half)
1/8 cup saltwort (leaves only), coarsely chopped
10-12 small tomatoes, halved
5 blackberries
1/2 ounce brie, cut into small chunks
Dressing

Layer the salad in the order listed above and serve. In the picture above I used golden currant cherry tomatoes (so sweet! so tiny!). In one variation of this salad, I also included a green-striped tomato, called Green Zebra with an unknown variety of orange cherry tomatoes.

(For more information about heirloom tomatoes, this site is wonderful, as is Dave's Garden.)

The tahini-based dressing I used, combined with these ingredients, went well with a glass of Viogner from a local vineyard.

Cheers!

Eating Weed: Warm Purslane Salad with Garlic and Raisins

On Saturday, at the farmers market, I was able to buy purslane from a local, organic farmer. Why, you might ask, would I buy something that I could forage so easily (purslane, I've learned from the internet grows all over the world and in the United States can be found pretty much everywhere)? Because my town sprays everything. In spring and fall, especially, lawns are unnaturally green and weed-free. It's unusual to spot dandelions in the manicured lawns here and most homes seem to come equipped with a "keep children and pets off for 24 hours" sign because of recently applied chemicals. These all seem like good reasons not to harvest this edible.

Purslane thrives in poor soils and is a sprawling plant (though it can grow vertically as well). When the plant is young, the leaves and stem are both green. As it grows older, the stems begin to turn red. Many people consider purslane a weed (one of its nicknames is "pigweed") and just rip it out of sidewalk cracks and gardens indiscriminately.

Purslane

Purslane (Portulaca oleracea if you were wondering) is a small succulent with yellow flowers and, like many succulents, has a clear substance flow from it when you break off a piece (such as the stem). The leaves are a good source of vitamin C (surprise, surprise -- a leafy green that's high in Vitamin C) and omega-3s. It also contains calcium, sodium, potassium, magnesium, iron, zinc, copper, and thiamine. Often, it's eaten raw as part of a salad (or the salad itself), but can also be steamed or sauteed lightly and served like you might a spinach dish. When you eat it like a traditional salad, you'll taste it's slightly lemony, slightly salty taste more distinctly than you will in the warm salad I made. 

When purslane goes to seed, the seeds are tiny and black, and can be dried and roasted, and are a good source of protein and fat. These seeds can also be ground into a flour. I haven't tried any of these things.

Instead, what I tried was a warm purslane salad. I use the term "salad," because I used red wine, lemon juice, and olive oil while cooking my purslane, which created a sort of vinaigrette. This dish worked well for two veggie-loving people, when placed on a plate with other seasonal veggies (such as fennel and yellow squash) and a small quinoa salad.

Purslane with Garlic and Raisins

Olive oil

1 tablespoon chopped onion

1 pound purslane, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon minced garlic

2 tablespoons red wine

1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons raisins (optional)

Salt

Heat a skillet over medium heat and then add just enough olive oil to lightly coat the bottom of the pan. Saute the onions until they turn brown, then add the purslane and minced garlic. Saute 2-3 minutes, until the purslane begins to wilt (depending on the size of your skillet, you may not be able to add all your purslane at once. This is okay). Add the red wine, lemon juice, and raisins, then cover the skillet for 2-4 minutes, until the purslane is wilted and raisins have begun to plump. Season with salt (to taste, I used just a sprinkle) and serve warm.

Warm Purslane Salad next to Quinoa

Black Raspberries & Urban Foraging

Black Raspberries on Bush

Brenna and I went foraging for raspberries on Wednesday, in a local park. I'd seen the raspberry bushes on walks/runs earlier in the season, and while searching for mulberries. The park is, unfortunately, regularly sprayed for mosquitoes--I can find the schedule on the city website, which I suppose is handy--and round-up is clearly used on the grass next to the paths. That being said, this park also has restored prairie and woodland, since it's along a stream.

Foraged Raspberries in a Bowl

The raspberry bushes were at the edge of the park, near a large golf course, and tucked under the trees. I'd expected red raspberries, but as we approached, I could see tons of black raspberries on the bushes. I should note here, the raspberry bushes near my childhood home were small red raspberries (and most years these bushes received a spectrum of herbicides soon after they flowered). The difference between black and red raspberries? Black raspberries have pricklier stems--terrific, since we didn't take gloves (but we'll know better next time) and they taste different. To me, black raspberries have less of a "raspberry" flavor, in that it's a subtler flavor. And of course, when they're ripe, they're not red.

For me, the act of foraging, especially urban foraging, is cathartic. There's something about the repeated motion necessary to harvest berries (or cherries, or apples, the only things I've urban harvested so far) that makes me feel grounded and focused. And going with a friend helps too--there's someone to talk to, someone to commiserate with when you get cut/scratched or when the food supply is low. But there's also someone to celebrate small victories with, which is something we probably all need a little more of--someone who will celebrate our small victories with us, someone who can appreciate little beauties.

Brenna's Jar of Berries

Brenna and I didn't collect nearly as many black raspberries as we did mulberries, when we went with Annie, but we collected enough to snack on, or throw over ice cream, or in the next morning's cereal. We probably even had enough to do something like a black raspberry muffin, or something similar. But we wanted to be sure we could taste the berries.

And there are more berries that'll be ready to forage in a few days. Berries, that even including the time I'll spend harvesting them, are cheaper than what I'd buy in the store and I know exactly when they were picked and where they came from. I'll have purple stains on my fingers to prove it.

Another thing I like about urban foraging--here I define the term as the act of finding wild edibles in the cracks and at the edges of built environments, though it can also refer to other types of gleaning--is that it feels slightly illicit, though I know it's not (that being said, in many places you can get chased away by residents or the police--I'm surprised it hasn't happened to me in this town; it's happened other places). A few years ago (2009) this trend was trendy. A quick Google search for "urban foraging" begins with a series of blog and news stories about urban foraging (and guerrilla gardening, a topic for a different post) dated in 2009. TIME magazine, however, just wrote an article  about urban foraging--mostly about New York. But it brings up some good points: know the history of the land you're foraging from. Know what you're eating isn't poisonous. If you're not sure, you shouldn't eat it.

In some cities, there are urban foraging groups you can join--or even tours you can take. Or, just seek out a book on urban foraging or even just wild, edible plants. In this state, spring brings ditch asparagus and dandelion. Summer brings sunflowers, berries, and day lilies gone rogue. Fall brings wild apples. And these are just the common plants most people know and can recognize.

On a semi-related note: Brenna, who grew up in Florida where many things are poisonous, often asks if creatures here are poisonous. When I tell her no, she eagerly picks them up. We found this little guy on one of the raspberry bushes, where we returned him soon after (yes, I've gendered the caterpillar). I believe this caterpillar is an Isabella Tiger Moth in the making--a "woolly bear"--despite the fact that these aren't commonly seen until the first frost. So, if you know differently, you should definitely correct me.

Isabella Tiger Moth Caterpillar on Brenna's Purple-Stained Finger

Mulberries Galore! (Part I - Mulberry Jam)



Mulberry Jam

Mulberries, despite what the children's song would like you to believe, don't grow on a bush. They grow on a tree--a tree that can become huge. Some people see mulberry trees as a pest, something they'd like to get rid of, because when birds eat mulberries, it turns their poop purple. Charming, right? But I'm not convinced that purple birdcrap is any worse than white birdcrap.

The town where I live has a ton of mulberry trees in the parks and they're all heavy with fruit right now. The other day, I went mulberry-foraging with Annie. We expected to collect maybe a pint of mulberries and if we'd been working alone, that would've probably been about right. However, together we were able to collect a half gallon of mulberries in about two hours (mostly spent wandering around seeking mulberry trees with branches low enough we could reach). Teamwork made this easier. One of us would grab a branch and pull it down (thus pulling other branches into reach). We'd strip the branch of ripe (black and dark red) mulberries and then start in on another branch.
Because mulberries are delicate, usually the best bet is to take a large towel or sheet and just shake the tree -- the ripe berries drop onto the blanket for easy collection. We, however, didn't have a large sheet with us (oh well) and our foraging resulted in purple fingers (and a few close calls with poison ivy) for both of us.

Annie talked about putting her mulberries over ice cream (yum!) and I decided to make mine into jam -- especially since we'd already made plans to collect more berries later in the week. I looked at recipes online. Either they called for a TON of sugar, or none at all. Since you should add some sort of acid to jams (i.e. - lemon juice or lime juice) you plan to preserve, I wanted some sugar added -- just enough to balance to acid. I wasn't planning to can my jam -- or even make freezer jam -- because I wasn't making enough, but I do believe in practicing safe preserving methods whenever possible.
The recipe I developed lets the flavor of the berries come through, is slightly tart, and just sweet enough. If you like super-sweet jams (or you prefer jellies without all that texture-y goodness) there are recipes online that looked wonderful. I let my jam cook about 30 minutes over medium-low heat and it firmed up more as it cooled.

Mulberry Jam (low sugar)
1 quart ripe mulberries, soaked and rinsed 3x
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup lemon juice

In a large saucepan over medium heat, add all ingredients together. Stir occasionally and allow the mixture to come to a high simmer/low boil. Cook, stirring frequently to prevent burning, until the mixture reaches the desired consistency. Yields approximately 10-12 ounces.

You could certainly can this jam with a pressure canner, or a water bath, make freezer jam (or, like me, put it in the refrigerator and use it in the next few days).



Mulberry Jam on a NutThin