I have been lusting after jam – not sugary Smuckers but jam that offered rich intense flavors with the fruit’s essence shining through. My grandmother made such jams. She hoarded summer’s bounty in neatly labeled mason jars stacked in orderly rows in her pantry – like soldiers – golden orange marmalade next to spicy apple chutney next to sweet berry jams. When it came time to choose one for our breakfast she softly fingered them, contemplating which flavor suited her mood that day. To me the choice didn’t really matter. Each one was wonderful and I impatiently waited for her... Read more →