I've always liked Bob Marley- in fact I think I loved him during the summer of 1991. His song Jamming is a song that always reminds me of feelgood, well, jammin'. Now, on my rock jamming means to go out, have a little more than a few drinks and perhaps if things are going really well, one might even throw up a wee bit: you know give a little back to mother earth.
However, jamming has recently gotten a whole new meaning for me. I've literally been jamming the past few weekends. Yes, I actually made jam!
Yes, just like Little Red Riding Hood, I went out and about and picked all kinds of berries and veggies. Unfortunately there wasn't a wolf around to lead me astray so I just picked a whole bunch of berries and stuff, headed home and made blackcurrant jam, nordic currant jam and last but not least rhubarb and lemon jam. Let's not forget that I also made juice from the berries, so now I'm all stocked up on juice and jam.
As some of you know, I've recently, or let's say in the past few years, really gotten intrested in cooking and baking- but isn't it a little strange, spending my weekends crawling around on the ground and in prickly hedges looking for edible stuff?
Who knows, maybe this berry craze is derived from the bad situation the Icelandic crown is in, the last time I checked, we were pretty knee deep in bad investments- like, now's the time to really break into the fax-machine business or? Bottom line: berries are free...
Maybe, this jam making obsession is a result of me getting older- and older. Old ladies are supposed to make jam and bake cookies aren't they? Hmm, it could be an age complex thing.
In any case I'm pretty sure that it must be something psychological, because when the push comes to shove I don't even like jam or juice that much.
Ooh, did I mention that this weekend I am planning to go out and pick blueberries to make more jam?
Ah, hell- maybe this is just my sub-conscience telling me that winter's coming and it's time to move to Jamaica.
May the gods of jam, juice and jelly be with you.
