Strawberry Jam

There is nothing as sweet as wild strawberries.

I remember going picking strawberries in the warm July sun, sitting on the ground and delicately pinching off those tiny berries and dropping them in a small container –my mouth! I used to eat more than I picked, but still the object was to get enough home to fill a strawberry shortcake made with whipped cream from the farm.

This was all before the days of cultivated strawberries, which I have to admit now can be very good indeed, especially in the middle of February in the form of freezer jam or just thawed berries over yogurt or ice cream. In the days before electricity and freezers, it was preserved jam that carried that great taste over into winter.

We used to buy sugar in 100 pound bags and stand them behind the hall door with the 100 pound bag of flour. A lot of preserving went on in the days before refrigerators, all of it stored on shelves in the cellar just across from the bins of potatoes and cabbages. Throughout summer and fall, my mother would spend hours over a hot fire with the preserving kettle steaming away. The results were spectacular.

But of all of the preserved jams and food, the most delicate and the richest was the wild strawberry jam.