It’s been a long day working in the garden. It is one of those perfect New England summer days, sunny and warm without being too hot or humid. A gorgeous deep blue sky above, rampantly flourishing herbs and vegetables below. That this scene also includes rampantly flourishing weeds is a given, hence the long day in the garden.
On the advice of a gardening neighbor, the overgrown and half-shriveled rhubarb plant was hacked down. There we were with a stack of rhubarb spikes like celery on steroids.
The problem started, I think, with the intersection of the mutated rhubarb, a copy of the Cook’s Country Refrigerator Jam recipe and my dear friend, J, who had been working all day in the hot sun. Of course we would not wish to waste food, despite NO ONE in this household liking rhubarb.
I believe the first idea was to blanch it quickly, then to either freeze it or pickle it. (Don’t even ask me about pickled rhubarb.) There was apparently a timer issue and the rhubarb was boiled six times longer than anticipated, resulting in an incredibly repellant mass of khaki-colored vegetable matter.
Reason, nay prudent self-interest should have dictated that we toss the revolting mush at that point. But J is nothing if not resourceful (spelled i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-y-s-t-u-b-b-o-r-n) and remembered her mother’s rhubarb jam from her childhood.
After an hour of clankings, hissings and splashing, J called me into the kitchen and presented this…
Admittedly, a true statement, but it wouldn’t take much. This has been christened Monkey Snot Jam. I promise you that the color is even more virulent in reality and the pixels simply cannot do it justice.
Maybe I should try it on the squirrel.