Spring has sprung, or so it seems. With that comes the ever-renewed interest in capturing that springtime essence. My oldest grandson, Troy, for those of you that are acquainted with him, texted me a recipe that had stirred his interest. A recipe for Redbud Jelly. Now, if anything captures springtime in a jar, that one seems to be an excellent candidate.
When I didn’t respond to his text, the next morning while the good wife and I were eating breakfast, he broached the conversation with the question, “Are you guys still interested in trying new things? I sent Big-G, (that’s what he calls me now, it was Papaw for years, anyway continuing), I sent Big-G a text with this recipe and he never replied.” At that point, his assumption was that at least I was no longer interested in attempting new things.
That was not really the case. It was the spring before my 25th birthday, exactly as it is for him this year, that my girlfriend, now the good wife, and I attempted to capture spring in a bottle.
As a teenager I had developed a great passion for reading all the works of Ray Bradbury. If you will recall, one of his books is titled “Dandelion Wine." The intrigue that resulted from that book and specifically the title inspired my research to discover an actual recipe for Dandelion wine.
It takes a lot of time to harvest enough blossoms to even begin the process for making Dandelion wine. Once harvested, all of the green portions of stem and leaves must be removed and only the yellow petals should remain. These are then placed in water and the first step begins.
It takes a lot of time to harvest enough blossoms to even begin the process for making Dandelion wine. Once harvested, all of the green portions of stem and leaves must be removed and only the yellow petals should remain. These are then placed in water and the first step begins.
I can’t recall the exact recipe or process, and don’t even know if this is the first stage in the fermentation process, but I do know that after a couple of days the odor that filled my house was reminiscent of dirty socks.
There is a limit to our tolerance of anything. It turns out that my tolerance of the dirty sock odor was going to be tested. Visitors first comment was consistent, “What is that nasty smell?”
There is a limit to our tolerance of anything. It turns out that my tolerance of the dirty sock odor was going to be tested. Visitors first comment was consistent, “What is that nasty smell?”
After about three days of mounting aroma, I found my threshold of tolerance. Disposing of the marinading blossoms only made me question as to whether or not that I had accurately followed the directions or the if the odor was due to my negligence. Those kinds of questions only result in convincing one that they should try it again. That urge was brought into check by the other witnesses to the original crime.
So, when I received a text from my grandson with a recipe for Redbud Jelly, my thoughts immediately went to a memory of Dandelion Wine. I can’t imagine how long it will take to harvest enough of those little redbud blossoms in order to make the tea, that must steep for over 24 hours, before straining off the liquid that becomes the base for the jelly.
So, when I received a text from my grandson with a recipe for Redbud Jelly, my thoughts immediately went to a memory of Dandelion Wine. I can’t imagine how long it will take to harvest enough of those little redbud blossoms in order to make the tea, that must steep for over 24 hours, before straining off the liquid that becomes the base for the jelly.
But, as I was at 24, so is he, excited about attempting something new. If my house starts to smell like dirty socks, the midnight mission, if you choose to accept, is to make that concoction disappear!
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