Pears, Pears, Pears!

Starting point: three bags of pears a neighbor left by the street free to any passerby and the timeliness of passing by on my bike with plenty of carrying capacity. I dug into recipes for pears, thinking of the bland, gritty canned pears of my childhood and determined to do something much more interesting.
Watercolor painting in older vintage style of two ripe golden pears with their stems and a green leaf

One of the challenges of fruit preserving recipes is that some measure in number of pounds before prep, some in pounds after prep, and some in cups. Working with gleaned or windfall fruit often means cutting big chunks off to avoid bruises. I have to work my way through the proportions, measure what I have when I'm done with prep, and adjust.

A search for pear recipes led me to:
  • Salted Caramel Pear Butter from Ball Mason; made in the slow cooker, which I think gave the sugar a slightly burned edge that I'm not crazy about so I should have turned it down to low much earlier; added 1 t. salt and 2 t. vanilla bean paste toward the end, the former to increase the salt factor and the latter hoping to offset the burned-ness. My home taste tester, Sweet Hubs, said it's fantastic anyway.
  • Cinnamon Cardamom Pear Jam from Food in Jars; reduced sugar by 1 c and cinnamon by 1 t, added 3/8 t cardamom
  • Gingered Pear Preserves: my version below
  • Pickled Pears: my version below
  • Pear Vanilla Caramel Sauce: Haven't made this yet but if I score more pears this Food in Jars recipe is first in line because it sounds amazing.
I didn't make all of these in one blow-out weekend. Some of the pears were ripe and I started with the pear butter and pear jam. A week later the rest of them were ready for me to turn them into gingered pear preserves and pickled pears.

Gingered Pear Preserves

Working from Ball Mason Jars Gingered Pear Preserves Recipe, based on the sugar proportions from NCHFP and the white/brown proportions from Serious Eats Pear and Ginger Preserves Recipe, I ended up with:
  • 8 cups chopped pears, the yield from approx. 10 pounds of pears with the bruised bits cut out
  • 6 T. crystallized ginger, chopped fine (I started with 4 T., increased toward the end after tasting; this is all about personal preferences)
  • 2-1/2 T. ginger paste (from a tube; go for it if you want to spend time peeling and chopping fresh ginger; don't put all of this in to begin with so you can taste and adjust)
  • Zest of 1 lemon
  • 8 T. bottled lemon juice (bottled because that has a consistent acidity level, which is important for safe canning)
  • White sugar: 2-1/2 cups
  • Brown sugar: 3/4 cup
The gelling time in the Serious Eats recipe was much more accurate for me than in the NCHFP recipe--definitely not gelling 15 minutes into the cook time. It went more like 30 minutes and to be honest I'm not sure I really reached the full gel stage when I look at the movement of the product in the jars. My impatience may have gotten to me at that point; I've done a lot of canning since the beginning of September.

My yield: 4 half-pints, 6 quarter-pints (so cute, that size! and great for gifts)

Pickled Pear Recipe

Some recipes use whole spices, some use ground. Ratios of fruit, sugar and vinegar vary across recipes. The National Center for Home Food Preservation is a trusted source with testing behind every recipe. Their proportion is 8 pounds fruit, 8 cups sugar, 4 cups vinegar, 2 cups water. The thing is, the sweetness of the fruit will vary a bit. Since this isn't a preserve that needs to gel, the sugar functions for flavor balance with the vinegar. That to me says it's safe to reduce the sugar if the fruit sweetness is high. Where I landed:
  • Pears: 4 lbs, peeled, cored, cut in slices or chunks or left in quarters or eighths, depending on the size of the pear 
  • Vinegar: 1-1/3 c. (I used white wine vinegar; you could use plain distilled white vinegar, or one of the darker vinegars if you don't mind the color effect; could even deliberately go for a pretty rose effect using red wine vinegar or an unsweetened berry vinegar like raspberry vinegar or blackberry vinegar)
  • Water: 1 c.
  • Sugar: 1-1/4 c.
  • Cinnamon: 3/4 t.
  • Ginger: 3/4 t.
  • Cloves: 1/8 t.
  • Mace: 1/8 t.
  • Salt: 1/4 t.

Yield: 3 pints that I haven't taste-tested yet.

More Pickled Pear Recipes


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Future Marmalade

"If you'll save the peel from your mandarin oranges for me, it will come back to you as future marmalade."

Not something you hear at every staff retreat in a typical office building in downtown Seattle.

The more I cook the more I loathe food waste and the more I discover that things I've chucked into compost for years are perfectly good food. A few examples: 

  • Stalks of fennel? Pickled fennel agrodolce. It keeps for at least two years with a super-simple technique and no hot-water canning! I went through a bit of fennel overload in around 2021, made a lot of batches of this Fennel Lentil Lemony Salad, and couldn't stand the thought of throwing out all those stalks that also taste of licorice. I still have a couple of jars of agrodolce. I use them in pasta sauces and soups.
  • Fennel fronds? Fennel fronds pesto. Great on pasta.
  • Cauliflower leaves? Roast them right along with the rest of the cauliflower, crisp them up separately as a crunchy chip, or throw them in the food processor with everything else you're turning into cauliflower rice or a great vegan broccoli-cauliflower soup.
  • Broccoli leaves? Chop them up right along with the rest of the broccoli (I've been using the stems in all my broccoli recipes for years and years--peel if super tough, dice) for the outstanding vegan broccoli-red grape salad from Hummusapien's appropriately named Best Broccoli Salad Ever Recipe. Or they could go into the oven with the cauliflower leaves if you're doing a batch of something that involves both and you'll have mixed chips.
So, yeah, future marmalade. In some chat thread I ran across someone saying how much they hate food waste and that they save all their orange peels and then make marmalade. Last year I made a batch of mixed citrus ginger marmalade that I loved (first marmalade ever). Why not plan ahead for future marmalade?

All those lemon wedge garnishes on the side of a glass of Arnold Palmer (half and half if you're in the South), orange slices adorning a plated restaurant meal, bit of lime from some cocktail...I brought them home (learned to carry a plastic bag in all my backpacks and panniers), did the work of getting rid of the bitter white pith and slicing into thin strands, and put them in the bag in the freezer labeled Future Marmalade. 

If I had some mandarins that were starting to head toward soft? Into the bag, segments and prepped peel both. Lemons ditto? Ditto. Turns out I'm not very good at using up citrus fruit quickly so it's a good thing I discovered this food-saving trick.

The beauty of this approach is that making marmalade now means I start with the vast majority of the prep work done in little five-minute increments instead of facing a morning of peeling, slicing, dealing with pith, segmenting (I'm not very practiced at supreming, a term I learned reading marmalade recipes). I did want to make sure I had enough flesh to balance the peel so I bought a couple of big ruby red grapefruit (a citrus not yet represented in the Future Marmalade bag), an orange and a lemon and prepped those.

Another time-saving labor-distributing step: Tender peels are essential to good marmalade. Most recipes call for a long, slow cooking phase for the peels in water alone. One of the recipes suggested prepping the peel and soaking it overnight for a big head start on the softening stage. Perfect. I got that put together, including the bundle of pith and seeds from the fresh fruit in cheesecloth that will release pectin needed for this all to set up, and let water and time work their magic.

Photo of a large blue Dutch oven with a white interior on a stove. It holds a yellow and orange mix, with a wooden spoon resting in the pot. Next to the cooktop, a large glass measuring cup full of shredded orange and lemon peel with a pair of tongs resting in it.

One more thing that can save some work: Fresh ginger paste in a tube! I've had so many chunks of ginger root either go bad in the produce drawer or shrivel up in the freezer wrapped in foil. I'd agree that fresh ginger you grate yourself is wonderful, but if that's the step keeping you from using fresh ginger in a recipe I say go for the tube. They sell cilantro in a tube, too, and that's another item I've had to put in the compost heap occasionally because I didn't use it fast enough and also didn't get around to chopping and freezing it to save for future salsa. Life, time, and food prep labor do not always align neatly.

I went back to the original mixed citrus ginger marmalade recipe and read a few more for good measure. The ratios of fruit weight to water and sugar varied a bit across recipes from 1.5 to 2 times the fruit weight. Searching for information I found another would-be marmalade maker on Reddit asking why the fruit/sugar/water ratios vary so much and getting some helpful answers. I knew it would depend on how much sweetness I have from the actual fruit. Given that I have a lot more peel than fruit, that was going to push toward more sugar.

When I read recipes I read a lot of them as well as the comments to check for what others learned following it. In any of the preserves or jams I'm looking in particular at the proportion of main ingredient to other ingredients. All of this helps me develop the tweaks I'm likely going to make. 

Photo from above of yellow and orange marmalade cooking inside a blue Dutch oven with a white interior. A large bundle of cheesecloth floats in the marmalade and a wooden-handled rubber scraper rests in the pot.

For this batch I was planning to pick up the idea of using both fresh and crystallized ginger from My Darling Lemon Thyme. I almost went for the fresh chili addition from Lembit Lounge Cuisine but I'm making a lot of chutneys this year and some tomato jam that involves pepper seasonings so I decided against that. I want some variety in the spicing of my various preserves. I would leap at the cloves and cinnamon used in Recipes by Hosheen but again, chutneys, and I also have a tendency to over-season things so I should have a few items that have clean, fresh flavors that stand alone.

Resourcefully Sourced Multi-Citrus Ginger Marmalade

Flesh of mixed citrus fruits with their juice: 4 cups

Peel of mixed citrus fruits: Started with ~3 pounds, or a one-gallon bag full plus a one-quart bag full (although this included some of the flesh accounted for above). After cooking this turned out to be nearly 8 cups of peel. I decided I didn't want twice as much peel as fruit--that seemed like I'd be overdoing it. I stirred it in a cup at a time until it looked about right and reserved 3 cups of the peel for other uses, thinking I'll throw them into a chutney or have a head start on a future batch of marmalade.

Ginger paste: 5 T. I started with 2 T. based on Garden Betty's recipe with 2 T. ginger to 4 c. fruit, tasted at the end after stirring in the peel and kept adjusting up.

Crystallized ginger: Whoops! That was on the kitchen island behind my primary work zone thanks to my sweetheart's grocery run by bike to get this for me along with other ingredients I need for future recipes. Totally forgot to chop and add it. That's what happens when you're synthesizing multiple recipes and hopscotching from one browser tab to another. 

No wonder I had to keep increasing the ginger paste. Crystallized ginger would have been Just The Thing to take this across the line into AmazeBalls Territory. You know what this means--I have to make another batch pretty soon.

White granulated sugar: 5 c.; I wanted to be sure I offset the potential bitterness created by having such a high peel-to-fruit ratio. One of the recipes I looked at actually used half as much sugar as fruit; I could have started there, but the sugar really is part of the setting-up chemical reaction and I had my doubts.

Actual cooking process

In my 6.5 quart Dutch oven I covered the peel with water and left it to soak overnight. To start the cooking process I added a bit more water since absorbing water overnight meant it wasn't all under water. I boiled it for an hour, stirring every so often and testing the peel until it was very tender. When I drained the peel I had 2-1/2 cups of very citrusy water.

Following the instructions from the majority of the recipes I checked, I put the citrusy water, flesh and juice, sugar, ginger, and packet of pectinizing pith and seeds into the pot. I brought that to a rapid boil and kept it boiling, stirring every so often and smooshing down on the cheesecloth-wrapped packet to push pectin out of it and into the pot. 

Checking the temperature worked better when I let it come to a full boil and stay there rather than stirring it down and introducing cooler air. I cooked it for over 30 minutes and got it north of 210 degrees, maybe around 214 degrees. Not quite the 220 degrees every recipe said to get to but y'know, after a while you just want to be done.

Yield: 6 half-pints and 6 quarter-pints, or 4-1/2 cups of delicious product all told

Photo of jars labeled Citrus Ginger Marmalade stacked to make a pyramid

Citrus Marmalade Recipes for Reference



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A Year of Poems: September

The back-to-school month, the month that bridges from summer to fall, Warm days, still, but shorter. The slant of light changes, softens. The day may be hot but the night cools the earth. September is here, and the hillsides still abound with fruit on the blackberry bushes I picked in August.

To compile these monthly collections I read a lot of poems I don't link on the page. A poet may mention September as the date of an event but the poem itself doesn't evoke this time of year. Or it's so archaic I just can't get into it. The ones I link speak to me in some way that may or may not be reflected in the specific lines I excerpt here.

My process includes some research as needed. I recently heard someone hesitate as they started to use the term "Indian summer" to refer to the second summer we sometimes get after a frost in fall. I felt the same hesitation, not knowing if that term (like so many in English) embeds a painful history. 

This phrase appears in poems about September and I wanted to know if it gives offense. The words of poetry reflect the understanding and eras of their authors and a poem may have beauty worth savoring, but I stumble on terms that reflect the bias of those times.

Adam Sweeting, the author of a book on the cultural history of the term "Indian summer", tells us yes, it's offensive. In fact, in 2020 the American Meteorological Society issued the recommendation that we refer to "second summer". Sweeting also notes that the idea of a frost followed by a second summer is less likely, given climate change. We're more apt to experience an extended hot period without the cooling temperatures, then plunge abruptly into winter.

I'll indicate below when a poem uses the term.

[Updated to add this] Another term I learned from Island Martha on Mastodon: "Old Women's Summer" is used in Estonia. I couldn't find the background searching so I asked her if it was considered insulting. She said, "Old Estonian women getting a 2nd chance to sit in the sun with their neighbours AND getting credit for it. What do YOU think?" I think it sounds delightful.

"September Meditation" by Burton D. Carley

Perhaps this will be the only question we will have to answer:
"What can you tell me about September?"

"And Now It's September," by Barbara Crooker

The ornamental grasses have gone to seed, haloed
in the last light. Nights grow chilly, but the days
are still warm; I wear the sun like a shawl on my neck
and arms.

"To the Light of September" by W.S. Merwin

and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings

"I haven't met anyone who hasn't offered me her humanity" by Gary Margolis

To see a storm

of maple leaves as the tides they are.
The apples, at home, their own kind
of burnishing, rented pear.

"Porch Swing in September" by Ted Kooser

and a small brown spider has hung out her web
on a line between porch post and chain
so that no one may swing without breaking it.
She is saying it's time that the swinging were done with,

"September Tomatoes" by Karina Borowitz

It feels cruel. Something in me isn’t ready
to let go of summer so easily. To destroy
what I’ve carefully cultivated all these months.
Those pale flowers might still have time to fruit.

"Green Pear Tree in September" by Freya Manfred

He planted it twelve years ago,
when he was seventy-three,
so that in September
he could stroll down 
with the sound of the crickets
rising and falling around him,

"September Sunday" by Lucille Broderson

I've done what I can,
picked berries in season,
cut back canes, snapped beans,
scrubbed down the mud-spattered walls.

"September, 1918" by Amy Lowell

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.

"September Water" by Elizabeth Bohm (click the arrow at page right to get the rest of the poem after what begins on this page link)

In the quiet sunlight of September
The harbor's top is blond and burnished stone,
Any swimmer who cuts that width of stillness
Is scorched with cold to the marrow of the bone.

"September 2" by Wendell Berry

up the birds rose into the sky against the darkening
clouds. They tossed themselves among the fading
landscapes of the sky like rags, as in
abandonment to the summons their blood knew.

"The Imprint of September Second" by Ethan Gilsdorf

Second of September, I ate the last berry of summer,
the sun still dreaming it's July twenty-first,

the blackberry bush stiffened by heat, losing suppleness,
the berry hard as corn, the seed living in wisdom

teeth that afternoon, me glancing at the scene
glancing back at me, red leaves against a hard green grass, 

"Blackberry Eating" by Galway Kinnell

I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,


why not say cluster of leaves still clinging
to the tip of one branch (the others bare
that bloomed crimson last week) slowly turning
red to brown, 

"September Midnight" by Sara Teasdale (uses the term "Indian summer")

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.

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