I preserved the last wild blueberries of summer today, cooking up a batch of Easy Like Sunday Morning blueberry jam for the Greenpoint Food Market tomorrow. Rain poured down on the little restaurant in Brooklyn, the door open to the back garden that was now filled with branches and leaves as the winds of autumn swept in great waves through the city, pulling us swiftly into autumn.
The kitchen at Chestnut was warm and fragrant with the scent of hot blueberries and maple syrup, alongside the pastry chef's roasting peaches and melting chocolate. As the wind and rain sang through the doorway and the radio played patriotic songs to commemorate 9/11, we became nostalgic and wistful. In the fulcrum of memories, both of us started to wax poetic about fruit recipes for fall and winter: pears and Pinot Noir, apples with port and nutmeg, marmalades to tickle the tastebuds such as kumquat/cranberry and grapefruit/tarragon, and the dilemma of acquiring really fresh persimmons in NYC. Wild and whimsical flavor combinations ricashayed around the kitchen as we conjured up new inventions and prepared imaginary provisions for winter.
In the spirit of the season, the weather, the day: jam on.