Pear Tomato Preserves

The Champlain Valley Fair was last week and I went Thursday with Helen and walked the exhibits in the way I have walked them since I was a child, when my father brought me and the agricultural exhibits were the main event and the midway was the frivolous part. Now the midway is the main event for most people and the agricultural exhibits are the frivolous part. I walked through the vegetable competition — the enormous pumpkins, the precise tomatoes lined up for the judges, the preserves in their gleaming jars with the red ribbons and the blue ribbons — and I thought about the work behind each jar, each pumpkin, the months of attention and the morning of the competition. That work is still the main event. The midway is still the frivolous part. Nothing has changed except what people are paying attention to.

Helen entered her strawberry jam this year. She did not win. The woman who won had three blue ribbons and a manner that suggested she had been winning at the fair for twenty years, which in Vermont is entirely possible. Helen took her second-place ribbon with the equanimity she brings to all outcomes, which is to say she put it in her pocket and said, "I'm trying a different variety next year." That is the correct response to second place. You assess and adjust. You come back next year. There is no other approach worth having.

I am starting to write about the fall. The blog post I've been drafting is about the apple — specifically about the Macoun, which I pick every Columbus Day and which is in my opinion the best apple in Vermont, which is already a high bar given the apples available. The Macoun is sweet with a hint of something else, a kind of complexity that becomes itself when you bite into it and is gone before you can fully describe it. This is the best kind of flavor. The kind that requires eating rather than explaining.

Helen’s second-place ribbon is sitting in her coat pocket and she’s already planning next year’s variety, which is the right way to be. But walking out of that agricultural exhibit, past all those gleaming jars, I found myself thinking less about strawberry jam and more about preserves in general — what it means to take something seasonal and make it last. Pear tomato preserves are what I came home and made that evening: a small-batch, old-fashioned put-up that belongs in the same tradition as every jar on that table, and that requires exactly the kind of patient, unhurried attention the fair still quietly celebrates.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 35 minutes | Servings: 4 half-pint jars

Ingredients

4 cups yellow pear tomatoes, halved
3 cups granulated sugar
1 lemon, thinly sliced and seeded
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt

Instructions

Combine ingredients. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the pear tomatoes, sugar, lemon slices, ginger, cinnamon, and salt. Stir to coat the tomatoes evenly. Let the mixture sit for 15 minutes until the sugar begins to draw out the juice.
Cook the preserves. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring frequently to prevent scorching. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 60—75 minutes until the mixture thickens and a small spoonful placed on a chilled plate gels gently when nudged.
Prepare jars. While the preserves cook, sterilize four half-pint canning jars and their lids in boiling water for 10 minutes. Keep warm until ready to fill.
Fill and seal. Ladle the hot preserves into the sterilized jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace. Wipe the rims clean, apply lids and bands fingertip-tight, and process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.
Cool and store. Remove jars and let them cool undisturbed on a towel for 12—24 hours. Check seals before storing. Any unsealed jars should be refrigerated and used within 3 weeks. Properly sealed jars keep in a cool, dark place for up to 1 year.

Nutrition (per serving)

Pear Tomato Preserves — The Work Behind the Jar