a bushel of gumption, an ounce of grace
Yeah another line from a country song here. A good one, yup. It Don’t Hurt Like It Used To, Billy Currington.
This song, its feelings and lyrics, has been hanging out in my periphery as I approached and then backed off writing the past week plus. It’s about a lost romance, of course. For me, it evokes some other stuff. But whatever I had to say, first I had to get through…duh duh duh… Mother’s Day. Or shall we say, the M day….
The last week of April was a little all over the map on the personal plane, but on the les collines plane it was a banner week of activity and productivity.
So delighted that les collines can now be found at the wonderful Nejaime’s Wine Cellars at both their Stockbridge and Lenox locations, including a first outside the holidays– our little guy sample size, the adorable 1 2/3 oz that everyone loves, perfect for Tanglewood picnics!
In the kitchen this week, we were cookin’ and jammin’ and just about any other pun you can cook up…over 200 jars in one day, a record (may never be repeated!): two batches of rhubarb preserve with vanilla bean & Earl Grey, and though these are small batches they were fairly big ones; two smaller batches of quince preserve, with the very last quince of the season, sniff; a batch of Meyer lemon rosemary jelly; and a batch of sour cherry preserve. Just one jar of our proposed new size (13 oz, shhhh!), then lots of 8 oz and the little ones. We were on a roll.
The rhubarb preserve is the least pretty color-wise of les collines, but the flavor more than compensates. 
Here, the Earl Grey tea, very strong and well-steeped, has just been strained and is ready to add to the rhubarb for a long simmer. 
The quince took on a deeper hue, due perhaps to it cooking a bit longer as it awaited the rhubarb ahead of it! But funnily, the first batch, which cooked for slightly less time than the second, was the darker. Go figure.
The Meyer lemon, so fragrant, so light and sunny in color, and the sour cherry, Fourth of July in a jar. The latter we paired with Midnight Moon goat gouda and an Italian Falanghina from Campania for a lovely apéritif. On a soft spring evening, perfetto.
Closing out the week the weather turned wet and chilly, we had a fire going most of the day. But outside the birds were in full spring mode, and our nesting bluebirds may have some hungry babies as mama and papa both seem to be zooming in and out quite a bit. Timid as they are I managed to catch papa resting on the fence in all his blueness. Happy May Day xo
A week ago, driving over the Berkshire hills to my printer in Lenox, I heard the news that Prince had died. …
This week at les collines, spring has been ramping up…yeah, a partial pun as ramps are locally coming in, though not yet in the les collines repertoire! Anyways, spring is in the air, broke 70 here today, the buds are close to popping– those that survived the cold snap and snow two weeks ago, at least. Fingers crossed for the apples and all other affected crops.
We are still quite a ways out from local rhubarb, our first spring fruit, coming in. But in the kitchen this week, a few lasts-of for their seasons: summer 2015 Shiro and red sugar plum juices combined for a new favorite color and flavor, 
and, the last of autumn 2015’s beautiful quince juice for that very special quince jelly. Also a batch of Meyer lemon rosemary jelly that almost wasn’t– a close call with near burning after the second sugar addition and a moment’s near catastrophic distraction, yee gads– and, another thankfully event-free batch of sour cherry preserve. The plums and the sour cherries from wonderful Samascott Orchards in Kinderhook; the quince from individual sources in Berkshire County, MA and Dutchess County, NY.
We are looking forward to a week of several near 70’s days, buds opening to flowers and more and more bird songs in the dawn hour. And hoping from here on out for only good news for our local farmers and orchards xo
The words of the famous Nora Ephron– her mother’s, in fact, also a screenwriter. Their family saying: Everything is fair game for telling a story, better, a good story. The best, the worst, the most illuminating, the most humiliating– and the latter makes better copy– goes into the pot….
By chance this pi day 2016 I had made another Lee Bros. sour orange pie and so finally can share a photo.
…
A few weeks ago there was divinity in my inbox, in my Daily Om. The title was ‘The Heart of Unknowing.” I was in. The topic was a little different than what I expected, though: it was the question of who we are….
As I was saying there…”Love You Like That” led to Tom Petty led to humming “The Waiting is the Hardest Part” (the Waaaaaiting is the Harrrrr,desttttt Paaaarrrt) led to thinking, what do those lyrics mean? He’s in love. Don’t let it get you down. Take it on faith, take it to the heart. Say what, get you down? Take what on faith? It doesn’t make sense. Just a song, right?…
Here at les collines we get excited by all the possibilities for our gems and jewels of locally-sourced, small batch jelly & preserves. The savory applications as well as the sweet. The new meat and cheese pairings that we find or come our way– Concord grape preserve with bleu de Bresse, mmm. Scots bitter with a young Pecorino, who knew. Quince preserve with Basque salami and Idiazabal (thank you, Tivoli General!)
But always good to get back to the touchstone of our earliest experiences with preserves, like on a piece of hot buttered toast. Here, sour cherry preserve, a les collines classic, on the wonderful Ella’s Bellas of Beacon’s gluten free sourdough, a revelation itself. A spread of unsalted Cabot butter in between, always appropriate. 
What more do you need, for breakfast, or in life? Not much. A decent cup of tea, and you are good to go xo
That would be Tom Petty talking. In a pretty good example of the semi sequitir paths of my mind, I think I leaped from Canaan Smith’s lyric “Love You Like That” (my country tracking lately, see above)
Slow as the Mississippi
Strong as a fifth of whisky
Steady as a Tom Petty track…
To– big leap– Tom Petty. Whose sort of growly, steady ballads have long been favorites. So damn sing worthy.
But wait: Sometimes, the waiting is the best part. Or narrowly edges it. Sweet– anticipation. Not to go off on another famous track.
When not sweetly anticipatory, though, it can be excruciating, the waiting. And you have just got to get down there and work, work, work with your mind to not let it git the best of you. Funny, as it turns out, Tom Petty practices meditation, the transcendental kind.
Here’s the thing, and this is a two parter. Because I did want to mention waiting, the sweetness or the hardness, depending; it’s been on my mind and in my heart. I’m there, in that space where there are large and very significant segments outside my control.
But the rest of that Petty track, what the hell does it mean? And who the hell besides me would care?
For the continuation of this track of thought, you’ll have to wait. Hope it’s the sweet kind. Til tomorrow xo