Italian plums


Thank God I married an Irishman with an affinity for Kerrygold buttered toast slathered with preserves.  If you know much about me, you know I fantasize about trips to the candy store.  Just thinking about a visit to Dylan's Candy Bar in NYC could easily bring me to a state of delirium.  I love sugar.  But enough is enough.  I've had fruit coming out my ears all summer.  I inherited two frost peach trees, a yellow plum tree, a purple Italian plum tree, five pear trees, oodles of strawberry plants, and several blueberry bushes.  I just planted three apple varietals, a mulberry, and a fig tree. I am a glutton for sugar induced punishment. Learning to 'can', has not made this situation better.  Don't get me wrong: there is pleasure in biting into a juicy peach just a moment after picking it from the tree.  But come on, let's be honest, a few sticky fingers later, and that gets old.  Why eat the fruit raw when you can cook it down with sugar and lemon zest - and spoon it over butter cookies... in January?  Canning has made me a very happy girl...for sweet better, or for sticky worse.