Blog Dis
The Age of Pomengranate
2024-01-04
It happened for me when I was young, barely two years old, I discovered the wonderful world of jellies and jams. It started with grape jelly, that wiggly, wobbly solidified mass of dark purple that came in an oddly shaped jar. I couldn't wait to knife out a globule and spread it across my burnt toast. Apparently, I was a master toaster at a tender age. Then the grape jelly became raspberry jam and soon this evolved into marmalade, though I didn't much care for the large pieces of rind. I ate it nonetheless if there was no grape jelly or raspberry jam.
Some jams can be counted on to infuse the taste with a minimum of twenty teaspoons of refined white sugar for every ounce, which for a wired lassie with unruly hair (yes, mine was a shocking bright orange like Pippy Longstocking), I couldn't wait to eat toast in the morning, a far preferred alternative to the slop of lumpy oatmeal, disguised as porridge. Thankfully, and most gratefully, my mother was industrious in the early years of raising her kids because she had to be, to make ends meet. Mom would jar her own jams, minus the ridiculous amounts of sugar, but these were not the normal offerings; hers were crab-apply jelly and red rhubarb (both grew wild behind our house). These tart tastes pinched the back of your throat with a punch, yet it never stopped me or my siblings from eating them, so long as a base of peanut butter was smeared thick across the toast to offset the tang. Mmmm... just thinking about these flavours takes me back to my blankie and koala teddy bear.
Food is God, I swear, and jams are the scent of her breath as she exhales a sigh of joy in knowing the simplest of offerings are cherished. But wait! The Age of Pomegranate is among us, a specialty jam made by a French company called St. Dalfour, quite possibly my favourite source for jams; a tres cher line of jams for all cheese and charcuterie occasions. The jar label that recently caught my eye was Red Raspberry and Pomegranate. I nearly did a cartwheel in the aisle, so happy was I to come across this taste profile. Not all stores are able to move a wide range of products from the same company on a regular basis; hence, big chain grocery stores stick with what sells, typically the standard options, the big selling items like plain strawberry, raspberry, grape jelly, and marmalade. My love of jams and jellies means I'm forever on the look-out for new flavour combinations, and I've no issues walking long distances to health food stores and other specialty shops to find them.
Currently, my jam of choice is red-pepper jelly which I buy at Farm Boy, a popular chain in Canada that promotes their brand of products, like red pepper jelly, a fast seller. But the variety of jams and jellies goes far beyond my regular stomping ground for groceries. You can buy most anything online nowadays, if you don't mind shelling out coin for shipping. Myself, I prefer the gentle pastime of visiting specialty stores and craft fairs, when I'm looking for a varied gourmet selection in jams and jellies. To be sure, St. Dalfour jams have carved a place in my heart, having wormed their way into my taste-buds: Wild Blueberry and Gooseberry jams, Roasted Garlic and Lime Pepper jellies, Wild Grape, Fig Royale, Heritage Peach, Black Cherry and Black Raspberry, Orange and Ginger, Mango and Passion Fruit, Mango and Pineapple, Apple Cinnamon and Cranberry... all created to tantalize me — flavours not ordinarily sold at big-chain stores. These specialty jams are considered gourmet because they lack the deep canyons of refined sugar, and are sweetened instead with real fruit juices, often times grape juice, true to taste, organic and without additives. You'll spend more, of course, though you really do get what you pay for, high-cost for high-quality jam.
In today's day and age when change is the de facto standard, it's good to know that change brings me more jellies and jams. Now, however, my peanut butter is pure pumpkin seed butter sans sugar (thank you Farm Boy), and sunflower butter (warning: the L-Tryptophan in sunflower seeds will make you sleepy). Rarely, nowadays though do I indulge in almond butter (cost is atrocious; makes sense owing to the amount of water is takes to grow almonds). I keep multiple jars of jams and jellies in my fridge. My most recent find of red-raspberry and pomegranate didn't disappoint, smeared over top cream cheese on a toasted bagel! Damn yummy. I also splurged on a St. Dalfour jar of Plum and Kumquat (the name alone compelled me to buy it) and during the holidays I was gifted with a homemade jar of green tomato jelly, the perfect complement to my ever present red-pepper jelly. Bliss.
Show me a jar of jam or jellies and I'll show you an enthusiast, aka a hedonist, who'd happily smear jellies across her belly and lips, just to entice you with a flavoured kiss.
Some jams can be counted on to infuse the taste with a minimum of twenty teaspoons of refined white sugar for every ounce, which for a wired lassie with unruly hair (yes, mine was a shocking bright orange like Pippy Longstocking), I couldn't wait to eat toast in the morning, a far preferred alternative to the slop of lumpy oatmeal, disguised as porridge. Thankfully, and most gratefully, my mother was industrious in the early years of raising her kids because she had to be, to make ends meet. Mom would jar her own jams, minus the ridiculous amounts of sugar, but these were not the normal offerings; hers were crab-apply jelly and red rhubarb (both grew wild behind our house). These tart tastes pinched the back of your throat with a punch, yet it never stopped me or my siblings from eating them, so long as a base of peanut butter was smeared thick across the toast to offset the tang. Mmmm... just thinking about these flavours takes me back to my blankie and koala teddy bear.
Food is God, I swear, and jams are the scent of her breath as she exhales a sigh of joy in knowing the simplest of offerings are cherished. But wait! The Age of Pomegranate is among us, a specialty jam made by a French company called St. Dalfour, quite possibly my favourite source for jams; a tres cher line of jams for all cheese and charcuterie occasions. The jar label that recently caught my eye was Red Raspberry and Pomegranate. I nearly did a cartwheel in the aisle, so happy was I to come across this taste profile. Not all stores are able to move a wide range of products from the same company on a regular basis; hence, big chain grocery stores stick with what sells, typically the standard options, the big selling items like plain strawberry, raspberry, grape jelly, and marmalade. My love of jams and jellies means I'm forever on the look-out for new flavour combinations, and I've no issues walking long distances to health food stores and other specialty shops to find them.
Currently, my jam of choice is red-pepper jelly which I buy at Farm Boy, a popular chain in Canada that promotes their brand of products, like red pepper jelly, a fast seller. But the variety of jams and jellies goes far beyond my regular stomping ground for groceries. You can buy most anything online nowadays, if you don't mind shelling out coin for shipping. Myself, I prefer the gentle pastime of visiting specialty stores and craft fairs, when I'm looking for a varied gourmet selection in jams and jellies. To be sure, St. Dalfour jams have carved a place in my heart, having wormed their way into my taste-buds: Wild Blueberry and Gooseberry jams, Roasted Garlic and Lime Pepper jellies, Wild Grape, Fig Royale, Heritage Peach, Black Cherry and Black Raspberry, Orange and Ginger, Mango and Passion Fruit, Mango and Pineapple, Apple Cinnamon and Cranberry... all created to tantalize me — flavours not ordinarily sold at big-chain stores. These specialty jams are considered gourmet because they lack the deep canyons of refined sugar, and are sweetened instead with real fruit juices, often times grape juice, true to taste, organic and without additives. You'll spend more, of course, though you really do get what you pay for, high-cost for high-quality jam.
In today's day and age when change is the de facto standard, it's good to know that change brings me more jellies and jams. Now, however, my peanut butter is pure pumpkin seed butter sans sugar (thank you Farm Boy), and sunflower butter (warning: the L-Tryptophan in sunflower seeds will make you sleepy). Rarely, nowadays though do I indulge in almond butter (cost is atrocious; makes sense owing to the amount of water is takes to grow almonds). I keep multiple jars of jams and jellies in my fridge. My most recent find of red-raspberry and pomegranate didn't disappoint, smeared over top cream cheese on a toasted bagel! Damn yummy. I also splurged on a St. Dalfour jar of Plum and Kumquat (the name alone compelled me to buy it) and during the holidays I was gifted with a homemade jar of green tomato jelly, the perfect complement to my ever present red-pepper jelly. Bliss.
Show me a jar of jam or jellies and I'll show you an enthusiast, aka a hedonist, who'd happily smear jellies across her belly and lips, just to entice you with a flavoured kiss.
