I’ll keep this intro short and sweet (no pun intended), because this newsletter is a doozy, a kind of choose-your-own-adventure through the world of fruit. I
If you’re like me, and you can barely make it the three blocks home from your farmers market because you’ve lost the strength to carry the heaping bags of fruit you’ve just bought, this is the Grazing for you. If you have more impulse control than that — well, congratulations. You might still find this useful, and it may just inspire you to join the ranks of the fanatic fruit-buyers.
If you’re like me, your refrigerator is overflowing with fruit you can’t quite eat fast enough. There are only so many pies and cobblers and tarts a girl can make, right? And there are few fates worse than letting peak-season fruit go bad. So with that in mind (shudder), I’ve put together a handy guide to making sure you don’t waste a morsel of fruit this summer.
We’ll start with a series of questions that will help guide you to your ideal method of fruit preservation/cooking/macerating/boozifying. Scroll down slightly if you want to try them all.
Do you want to eat your fruit at breakfast? If yes, advance to jam/compote/preserves. If no, advance to question 2.
How do you feel about slightly savory/salty fruit? If you love the idea, advance to pickled fruit. If you’re like, the whole point of fruit is sugar, advance to question 3.
Do you drink alcohol? If no, advance to better start baking and invite some friends over. If yes, advance to question 4.
Do you like sweet cocktails? If yes, advance to syrup. If, no, advance to question 5.
Do you have cherries on hand? If yes, advance to cocktail garnish. If no, advance to question 6.
Do you like clear liquors? If yes, advance to infusion. If no, advance to shrub.
jam/preserves/marmalade
First things first: What’s the difference? Jam is whole or chopped fruit, cooked with sugar until it’s thickened. Preserves are essentially just chunkier jam, made from larger fruit that’s more roughly chopped. If you see something called, say, blackberry preserves, it’s probably indistinguishable from blackberry jam, because a blackberry is going to break down in the cooking process whether or not it starts whole or chopped.
Marmalade is made from citrus. Whole citrus. That’s an important distinction; you want to throw it in the pot, rind, pith and all.
Jam queen Alison Roman has a really handy guide to all things spreadable fruit, and in her new book, Sweet Enough, she also breaks down a method of cooking jam in the oven. It’s a great, low-time-commitment method for turning bigger fruit — think peaches, not berries — into jam without constantly having to stir. I won’t share her exact methods, because plagiarism, but I highly recommend the book. If you’re looking for free guidance, this Saveur story gives a pretty good rundown of the process.
Before I get to my favorite jam/preserves/marmalade recipes, a quick note: In general, I don’t go through the whole rigamarole of canning for jams, preserves, compotes or pickled fruit (see below). Instead, I just commit to eating my homemade jam or jam-adjacent spread in about a month. If you have enough fruit that you want to truly, safely can your jam, here’s a good guide.
Recipes:
pickled fruit
Fruit-pickling has become my greatest joy. I love everything about the sensation of salty brine, but because I’ve struggled to embrace the almighty cucumber, I’ve got to get my acid elsewhere — and there’s no better candidate than fruit. Pickling doesn’t have to take long, and the payoff is ecstasy-inducing.
One of my favorite ways I’ve used pickled fruit lately is to make a pan sauce. After searing two ribeyes in a cast iron pan, I set them aside to rest, lowered the heat to medium-low and added about a quarter-cup of pickled blueberries in brine. The brine deglazed the pan, and I scraped up the bits of steak, added about a tablespoon of butter and let the pickled berries cook down into a sauce that I drizzled across the sliced steak before serving.
Recipes:
syrup
Syrups are the best way to make your kitchen feel like a bar or coffee shop, and I’m a big proponent of using fruit syrups interchangeably in cocktails and lattes.
I recently tried a new, tidier method for making strawberry simple syrup. To try it, you need 8 ounces of strawberries and about a cup of sugar. Hull your strawberries and cut them in half. Put them in a saucepan with two cups of water, and bring it to a simmer. Cook the mixture for about 20 minutes, until the strawberries have become pale and sad-looking. Strain the strawberry-water mixture into a large liquid measuring cup, pressing the strawberries into the strainer to extract all the juice. See how much liquid you have (it’ll be about a cup, maybe a cup and a half, depending on several factors). Pour your liquid back into the now-empty saucepan, and add an equal amount of sugar. (For instance, 1 cup of liquid will require 1 cup of sugar.) Bring the mixture to a simmer, then stir until the sugar is dissolved. Let it cool, and you’ve got simple syrup without the mess.
Recipes:
cocktail garnish
I recently was horrified to learn that the fancy bourbon cherries I’d bought in bulk on Amazon during the pandemic were long past their expiration date. I’m not dogmatic when it comes to those somewhat arbitrary designations, but when I realized I’d bought a house, gotten engaged and gotten married since the day these things had supposedly gone foul, I decided to throw them away. (Don’t worry, I hadn’t served them to anyone since they were in their prime.) The lessons here are several: Don’t buy crap in bulk on Amazon. And use nice things when you buy them.
A way to use nice things, I think, is to make them yourself. So when I spotted cherries at a farm stand in Virginia about a month ago, I bought some and decided to make my own boozy garnish. They’re not quite finished with their weeks of rest and relaxation yet, but I did try one the other day, and they’re already rich and delicious.
Recipe:
infusion
On the theme of booze, let’s talk fruit-infused liquor. Similar to a syrup, it’s going to make you feel like you live in a pretty awesome bar, and it’ll impress your friends — but this stuff should come with a warning: It’s way too easy to sip straight. So sip with caution, or start looking up cocktail recipes.
This week, my strawberry tequila finished its month-long soak, and I’ve showed great restraint by not drinking the whole pint of it. I have designs on making strawberry margaritas, and I think using infused tequila rather than strawberry simple syrup will keep these tart and refreshing, rather than overly saccharine. This stuff will also be great simply cut with a lemon Spindrift.
Recipes:
shrub
The main difference between a shrub and a syrup is that shrubs are tart (or sweet and tart), and syrups are just plain sweet. Shrubs have complex flavor, the product of fruit being left to macerate in a mixture of sugar and vinegar, and unlike a syrup, a shrub is great mixed with just club soda and ice. Though you can also get liquor involved, obviously.
Recipes:
better start baking and invite some friends over
By the time I was halfway through writing this choose-your-own adventure, I felt as if I were discouraging you all from baking, which is the opposite of what I’d ever want to do. So for those of you who have (1) lots of fruit and (2) no interest in any of these alternative fruit-cooking methods, never fear. I’ve always got a baking recipe to recommend.
Recipes: