Under a Red Roof ·

Strangely Delicious Cranberry Banana Jam

January 2, 2019 in Cooking + Baking by Colleen | Permalink

Whoa! I don’t know what happened, but it sure looks cool.

That’s better!

My friend Bebe is one of my dearest companions. She is funny, generous, kind, and smart. We love to bead together (making jewelry, mostly), and can talk up a storm on any and every topic. She’s also fearless and lived all over: Africa, Alaska, England, as well just about every corner of the contiguous United States after being born in Maryland. In her travels, she’s accumulated a vast array of recipes. She started making cranberry banana jam about fifty years ago in Alaska, though she made it with indigenous lingonberries that she and her friends collected in the wild. Unless you’re lucky enough to have lingonberries available, cranberries are the best substitute.

When she first offered me a jar, I was a bit skeptical. Cranberries and bananas? Weird. I am open minded, however, so I took a jar. Wow, this is good! It tastes mostly like banana, with a hint of fruitiness I would never identify as cranberry. As the title infers, strangely delicious. The hubster and I devoured it in no time. Here’s the recipe, just in case you’re curious, too.

Cranberry Banana Jam

4 cups cranberries, fresh or frozen

1 1/2 cups water

3 cups mashed banana

7 cups sugar

6 ounces liquid pectin

1 teaspoon bottled lemon juice

Sterilize canning jars – I used a variety of jars, so I can’t say exactly how many jars this makes, so have quite a few on hand.

In a large pot, combine cranberries and water over medium heat. Simmer until cranberries start to pop, about 10 minutes. Stir in mashed bananas and sugar. Increase the heat to medium-high and cook until mixture comes to the boil, stirring occasionally. Boil for one minute. Remove from the heat, stir in pectin and lemon juice.

Dispense jam into sterilized jars. Wipe the rims clean with a damp cloth, attach lids. Process in boiling water for 10 minutes. Remove from water and place on a kitchen towel to cool. If you want to give away the jam without sealing, simply allow to cool and refrigerate until sharing. I’ve got two jars in the fridge as I type. Danger, Will Robinson, danger!!

Oh, and Happy New Year! It’s 2019!

Tags: Cooking and Baking

Winnowing

December 30, 2018 in Being by Colleen | Permalink

In keeping with the work I did with the Belong book, on examining my life and friendships more honestly and with the goal of surrounding myself with the kindest and most positive, there’s been a slow winnowing of people, these in particular:

The woman who wants everyone who doesn’t agree with her locked up and calls those she doesn’t like ugly names.

The woman who made vomit noises while describing bearded men, as my beautiful bearded man sat footsteps away.

The man who posted the horrible and unspeakable for who knows what end.

The people who are never-ever on social media and / or haven’t responded to texts or emails or messages or said so much as boo! for ages. I appreciate that people get busy, but I am not interested in a one-sided relationship.

The woman who intimated that I was callous and shallow because my house is clutter-free.

The woman who is angry and bitter and made fun of me.

The people who only use social media to sell their wares. Same goes for the people who get in touch only when they want something from me – can you help me sell X, give money to my kid, etc. Again, I am happy to help, but I don’t want to feel used.

The woman who intimated that other people “get” her snark but I don’t. As if snide and mocking comments directed at my person should be enjoyed.

I know that I am not a perfect person. Too honest sometimes, yes. Too direct. Intense, the hubster says. I also unfriended a woman to save her from having to see comments from me. A bad book (in my opinion) was made into what she thought was an awful movie, and I asked if it was worse than the book. Not to be mean, but because it reminded me of how I LOVE Philip Dick stories on the big screen, yet goll-ee if his writing isn’t a nightmare for me to read (save Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?). Maybe I should have been clearer. I don’t know. After my comment, she was noticeably cold to me on all fronts. So, yeah, another one bites the dust.

I wonder if all this sounds petty or cruel or gives the impression that I think I am somehow better. I DO NOT. I am simply realizing what works for me (like kindness, courtesy, and actually showing up) and letting go those who don’t. It’s without judgement (I don’t have time for that, either), and I truly wish everyone well. Life is difficult enough as it is. There’s a great line in an Andrew Bird song, “Life is too long to be a whale in a cubicle.” Such a vivid image! Being surrounded by those who don’t rev my positive engines would be like plopping orca Colleen in the proverbial cubicle. What a great tragedy that would be! There are vast and magical oceans beckoning me to swim.

Mouse

December 27, 2018 in Quoting by Colleen | Permalink

There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.

Pema Chodron

Tags: Quoting

Morningtime

December 21, 2018 in Being, Celebrating by Colleen | Permalink

Our morning walk is a cold one. Hats and gloves and puffs of hot breath. Most days, though we live smack-dab in the city, we see no other humans. We see their gravelly footprints. We hear their cars racing and spy their contrails flying to greener pastures. At least, I hope. It is so curious to live in such proximity, to witness such evidence, yet make so little contact.

My life of late has been a steady rhythm of baking, cooking, walking (always walking!), entertaining. I made all manner of cookies and sweet treats for our dear neighbors and a gaggle of women I am proud to call my friends. We came together at our house, seated around our sturdy table. We broke bread and laughed and shared all that is us. Two days later, we did it again, with my Mom and Dad and two of our three nephews. The true blessing of any season, not just of the Christmas variety, to be known and heard and loved.

Here is hoping the same for you on this, the *darkest day of the year…

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Well, at least in this hemisphere.