I’ve just completed the annual plum jam session: 18 half-pint jars this year, and 3 one-pint jars. I totally forget what I do every year, but this time it’s in the blog–equal weight sugar and plums, 220 degrees. My plums were a little less ripe, so the jam has a sweet and sour bite that is going to be perfect with peanut butter. If you’re into plum jam, let me know and I’ll send you a jar (while supplies last…).
Sarah is in town, and came over last night to celebrate her birthday. She’s the author of Empathy, My American History, etc, and a play on Carson McCullers that got totally trashed in the New York Times last year but she says every performance sold out. Any review it seems is a good review. She brought with her a bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape (’95) that was out of this world. I’ve never had wine like that–bandaids and honey. Is there a term for that bandaid-type taste that seems to permeate expensive french wines? It had to be one of the most delicious wines I’ve ever had. We decided not to have the Russian River Pinot afterwards, even though we knew it was a good one, afraid that it would appear too brash after such a complex sensual experience. Sarah also brought everyone presents–she gave me a CD of the Original Broadway recording of Hair! Yipee!
Oops, there’s Carla–gotta go…