Jam Session 3: Pineapple Heart

La primera pregunta es:

Que es mas macho, pineapple o knife?

~Laurie Anderson

Given the size of the knife required for pineapple-butchering,

I'd say it is an even call.

~Fractured Amy

The third batch of preserves I created during my weekend jam-boree was billed in the recipe as Pear and Pineapple Marmalade: it was during this project that I experienced my first Problems With Pectin. Although these difficulties were observable and avoidable, I was too naive and inexperienced to spot the obvious signs of trouble in time to forestall their effects.

The recipe, from Linda Zeidrich's The Joy of Jams, Jellies, and Other Sweet Preserves, was simplicity itself. Take 1.75 cups of chopped and peeled pears, 1.75 cups of chopped pineapple, and 2.75 cups of sugar. Heat it all in a pan until the sugar melts and boil it until it's done. Process for ten minutes as usual.

Perhaps I'd become overconfident by this time, having previously defeated my vacuum demons and successfully set my banana jam. I breezelessly chopped my fruit and adorned the morsels with some grated lime zest for added interest:

I added two cloves for increased zip and heated everything up in my big pot. About halfway through cooking, however, I realized my fruit was not going to break down significantly (I admit it in retrospect: the word 'marmalade' in the recipe title should probably have alerted me to this danger). Realizing that my pieces were neither sufficiently small, tidy, or uniform to be very useful in a conserve where they remained in tact, I hurriedly ran the mixture through my food processor to make a jam, returned the whole lot to my pan, cooked it to 221 deg F (whereupon it was nice and syrupy) and that was that. Into my Leifheit jars (easily my least favorite of the entire weekend: not only did they suffer from the dreaded one-piece lid arrangement, but the rather Lutheran plainness of the glass failed to compensate with anything like the Italian style of my Bormioli beauties), processed, and done. The whole thing took less than an hour. The final product was slightly soft and loose, but I was satisfied that it would be entirely serviceable in yogurt or over ice cream.

But at this point I wanted marmalade, and still had remaindered over half a pineapple.  I returned to my fruit and repeated the process, this time exercising my knife skills to their utmost:

Into the pan! The problem was, when I got the mixture up to the required temperature, the liquid still looked a little bit watery - not thick and syrupy with large slowly-exploding bubbles. Still, the thermometer doesn't lie and I assumed I was missing some sort of subtle sign of doneness more easily discernible to a master preserver. I decanted the marmalade into my jars and was shocked - bewildered, even! - to see all the fruit float immediately to the top, rather like expired goldfish. It was horrifying. Nonetheless, I reasoned that after processing, all might still be well.

Ten minutes' worth of boiling later, still afloat.

I decided to wait until the next day. Maybe this was one of those preserves that needed time to set up properly?

Next morning, floating still. When I turned the jar upside down, it was clearly oozy and liquidy, not jelly-like as it ought to have been.

Did I despair? I did not. I had been advised to have a box of commercial pectin on hand for just such an eventuality (I know one of my initial principles was to use the natural jelling properties of the fruit in my recipes only, but clearly my pineapples and pears weren't up to the task). Thinking of poor souls just like me, the thoughtful makers of Sure-Jell [For Less or No Sugar Needed Recipes] even include inserts with their product detailing a procedure for 'saving' unjelled preserves!

Ten minutes later, I had several jars of lovely nuggets of pear and pineapple suspended in sweet viscousness. The lesson learned? Do not rely on thermometers for judging when a preserve is finished cooking, but always carry out a chilled-dish test to confirm (this is where you put some dishes in the freezer and, when you think your jam is just about ready, you put a small spoonful in one of them. Pop it back in the freezer for two minutes, and if the mixture puckers into a little mound when prodded with your finger, it's good to go for sure). Having said that, subsequent investigation revealed that both pears and pineapples have very low pectin contents: it's doubtful that without a huge amount of sugar and citrus juice the marmalade would have set fully whatever the case.

Another lesson learned: it's always good to have a backup plan.

Interesting-textured preserves look better in plain jars and vice-versa.

My smooth jam in the big old plain Leifheit vessel is a snooze-fest

- and would look far more exciting behind Ball's quilted glass,
where the marmalade resides.

A third lesson learned!

Next up: I apply all my newly-garnered practical experience to produce peerless lime marmalade in no time flat