Plum CORNfused

Letty--

Didn't you listen to your mother?

I'm fairly certain that damsons are a superior kind of plum--sort of like key lime pie where if they wave the lime over the Florida Keys....

You shoulda listened to your mother.

Letty- A Damson Plum is a variety of plum:



Therefore, Damson preserves would be preserves made from the Damson plum.

Good morning Phoenix and Noddy.

I am guessing, but I think the pure damson preserves has some of the damson skin in it. Damson plum preserves is quite difficult to find here, and the only one that makes it is Dickinson. I LOVE IT, but it doesn't quite have the taste that I remember as a child.

Noddy, you are quite right about key lime pie. That I know.

Thanks, gals.

http://www.uaex.edu/Other_Areas/publications/HTML/FSHED-58.asp



There is a difference between jams and preserves, in their preparation, and the amount of pulp and skin that is used. That is probably what your mother was saying.

She meant:


Letty is neat
And sugar is sweet
But my Letty is sweeter . . .


We used to pick wild strawberrys in the woods to put in our strawberry preserves, but they are so tart you almost can not eat them. First thing you add, before the pectin, is a heap o sugar.

She was sayin' yer first class and sweet, Miss Letty . . .

Phoenix, When I was a kid we would climb damson trees and eat them right from the branches. In Virginia, we had the pink type plums right in my back yard, and as I recall, they had thorny branches. On the family farm in Virginia, there were persimmons, mulberries (trees not bushes) and sour cherries. (yum). Thanks for that link. All those guides to making preserves and jellies and jams brings back a world of wonderful memories.

Setanta, you dear man. No need to tell me that you're Irish. and how many times we traipsed in the woods picking wild strawberries. I was allergic to them as a wee thing, and paid dearly for cramming them in my eager little mouth. I eventually outgrew the allergy, but lost my taste for strawberries. Ain't that always the way?

My cousin Jim had spent his short life in Chicago, and knew nothing of the country, when he came, at age six, to spend the summer with us. He loved strawberries, and we told him one evening that we would be picking strawberries in the morning. He was very excited, and followed us eagerly to the garden the next morning. We got there, got down on our knees, and began picking the berries. He just stood there. We told him: "Come on Jim, the more you pick, the more you get to eat!"

"They're laying in the dirt."

"Yeah, well . . . what did you expect, little paper boxes hanging off the vines?"

"But they're laying in the dirt!"

Jim has not eaten strawberries since that time. We had lots of fun with the boy that year, we suckered him into eatin' his fill of green sweet corn ears, when they're just four or five inches long and contain more sugar than a one pound bag--and later, introduced him to both green plums and green apples, proving he was slow to learn by example. We were very bad boys . . .

Oh, my Gawd, Setanta--the green apple two step. You were very bad boys.