Forget triffids. Blackcurrants are taking over my world. Hmm, or it could be my procrastination catching up with me. The Christmas eve before last I shattered my leg and well, learning to walk again took priority for a time. My soft fruits came and went in season without my ever-loving presence in the orchard. Some withered on the vine. Some I bribed my son to pick, but given how difficult it was to cook them hobbling around on crutches in my multi-level kitchen , mostly the fruit got frozen in bags for me to deal with later.
Roll forward eighteen months. I now have no excuse for those currants to be patiently waiting in my freezer, but somehow there always seems to be more to do than the time to do it. The currants currently glare accusingly everytime I open the freezer door. (A good excuse to eat take-out I say!)
Except I just sold my house. Oh no! I have to defrost my industrial-size freezer ready for removal. (And yes, that freezer was my initial mistake. Smaller freezers mean you can't put stuff off so long.) Not one, not two, but four ecconomy size tubs of currants are still clattering their nails waiting for me to attend to them. Yikes!
So, today I made two full recipes of jam, one large pot of blackcurrant flummery, and with all that I have ALMOST emptied one tub. Never again. This is right up there with the seven thousand pots of stewed rhubarb and apple that filled the other shelves of my freezer. What was I thinking? Of opening a men's shelter? Or a pie shop? Of becoming the next Sweedy Todd?
So I need more sugar and I need the kids to eat up all this food. They're starting to look purplish black from eating currants, and I swear, SWEAR, I will never put off 2 seasons of fruit again. Of course, the fact the new home we're moving into doesn't have currant bushes in should help.