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Jewels of summer

Currants on her mind

From cafemama — an inconvenient life by Sarah Gilbert

July 12, 2009

Diamonds may be some other girls' best friend, but the jewels I clasp to my heart and beg, plead and scheme to obtain are far softer and, I’d argue, more Continental than a kiss on the hand; able symbols of both platonic and liaisonic affairs; eminently better bets than baguettes.

One night I am running through the Buckman neighborhood, down a curving street where I rarely venture, though it is only blocks from the high school where my husband and I were almost-sweethearts in the late 80s and early 90s. It is in this nostalgic quiet back avenue that I see them, in the very corner of the front yard of a pretty, dark Victorian house. It could be the witch’s cottage in Hansel and Gretel, so taken am I by the sweet-tart berries veritably dripping, drop drop drop, from a vine there. Currants. Each one redder and plumper than the last, glowing in the early evening sun, sparkling even, far more artful than any princess-cut diamond.

I knock on the door, almost terrified, somehow the welcoming cackle of a witch would not surprise me. But there is no one, magical or otherwise, no answer to the door. I take a currant, just to taste, they are perfect: not too ripe, scented with heat and acid. I long to pick, but I continue on my run, my tongue already tinged with the verboten juice. I am in its sway.

It is Turkish Delight from the White Witch; Pandora’s box; forbidden fruit. I cannot get the currants out of my mind. It is not just that I desire them; it is also that I feel they desire me. Surely no one else could love them, care for them as I. Another afternoon, on my bike, I detour down that street, berries beckoning, and dare to knock again. Still, no answer. Still, no one has picked a single currant.

Every day or two I wander through my back yard, checking on my own currant bushes, sadly naked of brilliant baubles. They were only planted last spring, and transplanted to a spot near the chicken coop in March; I am never surprised by a magical fruit. And the next day, my sister-in-law stops by.

“Do you want currants?” she asks. The garden of the house where she rents a room has gone, sadly neglected due to the owner’s ill health. There are currants. They are bounteous.

I bike to her house, and she and I spend 30 minutes plucking the clusters off, filling pint basket after pint basket. Two pounds in all. She can’t stop exclaiming about how luminous they are, “they look like Christmas.” Christmas but better: jubilant, brilliant ornaments of June, July. That night, I lovingly pluck the berries, one by one, from their stems, plunging them in water, anointing them with raw Sauvie’s Island honey, simmering, steeping, straining, making currant juice. It needs nothing but itself. It glows in the pint jars, I cannot look at it without that feeling, that rush, infatuation, craving, desire.

I must have more. I buy two pints from Amy Benson at the farmer’s market, and later that week I am once again flush with lusty joy. This time I pour some of my treasure into a pot with four pints of fat raspberries, and in the end it is a loose, licentious raspberry currant basil jam.

But still, I need more, more, a girl can never have enough currants in July. My thoughts repeatedly return to that Victorian witch’s house a half-run away. I am salacious. I am wanton. When it comes to currants, this is a material world, and I am a material girl.

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1. by Kim on Jul 15, 2009 at 9:58 AM PDT

Sarah, you make us as hungry for your words we are as for currants; thanks for this piece. In fact, we’re going to promote it as a finalist in the July blogging contest. Bravo!

2. by Kat on Jul 15, 2009 at 12:16 PM PDT

I love red currants! They’re going to be one of the first things I plant when I finally get a house. I like to eat them raw, though, so I never end up with extras. I prefer jam with black currants.

3. by pscheel on Jul 16, 2009 at 6:05 AM PDT

Do you have any recipes for your jam or juice? I get currants in my CSA box and never know what to do with them. I want to love them, they are so pretty!

4. by the weekly veggie on Jul 16, 2009 at 10:21 AM PDT

I tried a few currants for the first time from a mostly harvested bush at Zenger Farm last week. For some reason, I expected them to be tart. The taste, and your post, have inspired me to find ways to incorporate currants into my life. Thanks!

5. by Fasenfest on Jul 18, 2009 at 5:42 AM PDT

Hey Sarah,

Lovely lyrical post.

Currants - black and red, where some of the first bushes I planted in the backyard. Both are very high in pectin so they make a great addition to other low pectin fruits in jam making or just in jam on their own. My friend once gave me a recipe (where it is I do not know) for currant juice and sugar set out in the sun to gel on it’s own - no kitchen heat. She got it from a French friend so maybe the heat in Provence is hotter and given to making jam. But sun is sun right? (maybe I better go to France to check it out). I’ve never made it but the notion fascinates me.

Our family also likes turning the berries into syrup to cap, seal and use throughout the year with soda water for a sweet but not too sweet drink. Mixed with a little fresh mint when it is in season and the bubbly is very nice.

One question though if anyone knows. Both my black currants and the ones I bought at the Farmer’s Market Collective on Alberta Street had little white worms in them (I only knew about the ones at the market when I mentioned my own - oops, I’m not sure I was happy about that). I tend to get around it by boiling my black currants to release the juice and pushing the pulp through the sieve (if I want a thicker brew). I’m really not that freaked out about those guys cause once I cook them, hell, they’re cooked. But eating them fresh sorta gives me the willies. So I don’t. I don’t see them in the red ones or the white for that matter. Does anyone have any advice on the matter? I don’t want to spray. My approach works but not everyone likes seeing little white worms in their jelly bag. Oh for the love of mother nature. It has certainly tightened up my reflex muscle.

6. by TRISTA on Jul 22, 2009 at 3:20 PM PDT

When I volunteered at the food bank’s garden, they had red and white currants. One of the other volunteers wrapped a tiny basil leaf around a berry and handed it to me, “Just like Thanksgiving.” It was...kind of like turkey with all the fixins. Maybe I’ll plant currants wehre my huckleberries seem to be dying (so, so sad about this).

7. by cafemama on Jul 24, 2009 at 2:04 PM PDT

pscheel: sorry I didn’t respond until now! here is my recipe for currant jelly -- it’s inspired by harriet of course :)

harriet: here’s my take on the worm problem based on totally unscientific observation of sour cherry picking. I think that they’re far more likely in fruit that’s been left on the tree/bush/vine past ripening; in one cherry tree in my neighborhood that had gone totally unharvested, the first picking yielded a bountiful quantity of cherries with barely any worms. the second picking, during which I noticed a huge quantity of flies sitting on the ripe fruit, yielded a much larger quantity of worms (I found myself picking them out, throwing a lot of cherries to the chickens, and finally skimming a bunch of worms from the top of my cooked cherries -- where fortunately they came to the surface). I can’t imagine how many worms I must have consumed!

so that’s my thoughts. there were no worms at all in the currants from square peg farm, nor from the ones I picked from my sister-in-law’s rental, though of course I’m straining them too so if they’re present, I haven’t eaten them raw and whole at least :)

8. by Fasenfest on Jul 24, 2009 at 3:59 PM PDT

Thanks for the worm advise. It may be the variety cause I pick early on my black and red currants and it is only by black that get them. I don’t really mind since I’m not eating them fresh and, boiling the currants, putting them through a jelly bag and then making jam or jelly out of the juice will kill just about anything. So no worries really.

Just came home with 30 pounds of Blue Crop blueberries. Be still my heart.

Peace

9. by dgreenwood on Sep 11, 2009 at 8:37 AM PDT

One of my favorite things to do with red currants (besides stare at their beauty) in to mash them somewhat with honey and mint and use this as a chutney on a grilled lamb burger which has been stuffed with feta cheese. The combination is absolutely perfect.

Beautiful post. Thanks.

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