Yesterday, I made grape jelly. Yes. I did.
I am eight weeks postpartum with twins and I made grape jelly.
Okay, so before you start being too impressed (or hating my guts, depending on the kind of person you are), you must understand that Jack and Jane spent two days picking the grapes from our grape arbor and they begged me for two more days to make the jam. My son especially wanted to make it “because it came from our own grapes, Mama.” Apparently, that somehow makes it way cooler.
Luckily for me, it is a lousy year for grapes, at least in our yard: they only managed to pick two pounds.
Unluckily for me, when my sister was here and went on her cleaning rampage through my house (which, by the way, looked like a photo from one of those home decor mags by the time she was done), she gave away all my canning jars and lids because I knew, with four children, I was never going to use them again. Rrrright.
But since we only had two pounds, I decided we didn’t really need to can the stuff. We’d just sock it in the refrigerator as soon as it gelled (or should that be “jellied”?).
Anyhoo, the kids and I peeled all the grapes (it sounds harder than it actually is); pureed the peels with sugar; cooked the puree with the peeled grapes, some more sugar, and lemon juice; stirred this little concoction while it boiled; ran it through a food mill; and then stirred it while it boiled some more.
Of course, right about the time we got to the food mill, both babies woke up and wanted to eat. Can I just say I love having a six-almost-seven-year-old? He did all the stirring, while I sat on the sofa and lactated.
And even though Jack did most of the work, I get bragging rights: I made grape jelly from grapes I grew myself (well, they grew in my yard), and it actually tastes good.
Color me supermom.
