Jam

Our recent trip to Speyside coincided with the raspberries in my Dad's garden being ripe. And that means only one thing - jam.

I must have pulled about 30lbs of berries, some for us and some for neighbours, and still the berries are ripening. Now that we are back in Edinburgh my Dad has been phoning round ever more distant neighbours in an effort to have the berries used. This has its benefits, of course: in the barter system that operates very effectively in my home village, home baking is flowing in return.

Every container in the house was pressed into use.





My mother's trusty Salter scales were brought out - not a metric measurement in sight.





Eventually I ran out of jam jars and had to resort to filling casserole dishes - in this case a lovely Norwegian one. It won't be a problem to use up the open dishes. There is nothing better than the very freshest raspberry jam.





What produce gluts are you coping with at the moment?