“However, making delicious umeboshi is another matter. You have to experiment and find the best salt weight percentages. You have to add all kinds of seasoning. You might have to add sweet things like sugar and honey… All these additional steps are what bump up the difficulty by many, many levels. Actually, I think that’s the case for most recipes with a long tradition. Making a basic one is easy. Making a good one is tough.”
Kon nodded exaggeratedly. “Ohhhh! I understand!” Once again, he looked at the bag and poked it before directing his voice at it, “Salt and plums, become salt and yum, or else I’ll be bummed!”
I chuckled at his adorable antics as I carefully picked up the bag and moved it into a section in the back of the fridge—I’d reserved this space specifically for my umeboshi. The first bag was finished.
I proceeded to prepare more and more bags of plums and salt. Once I’d finished putting them all away, I began washing the dishes. And that was when I noticed Kon engaged in a staring contest with the unripe plums left in the bowl of water.
He tilted his head in question. “Mikura, what about these?”
“Ah, I’m going to use them for other recipes. I’ve got a long list of things I want to make other than just umeboshi. But not jam, because I want to make that with ripe plums. I’ll save jam for later, when plums are cheap at the supermarket. So…with these, I guess I’ll make plum liqueur or plum syrup.”
Kon’s head remained at an angle. He puffed his cheeks with what was clear displeasure and skillfully talked while maintaining his ballooned cheeks. “That’s alco-hall, right? I can’t drink alco-hall. I wanna eat jam! Jam is my jam!”
“Umm… Syrup is charming too. If you dilute it with water or sparkling water, it’ll taste like sweet plum juice. Are you a hundred percent sure you still want jam? Green plum jam is…real sour.” I grimaced. “Ripe plum jam is quite sour too, but green plum jam’s a level above that. Your mouth will pucker!”
However, Kon nodded firmly, insisting that the demerits were acceptable. Well, in that case, I guess I’ll indulge him. And so, I began preparations for plum jam cooking.
As you know, the recipe for jam is incredibly simple. We already have clean, soaked plums ready, which saves a lot of time. Cut the plums into halves. Remove the pits. Then, like other jams, add sugar and simmer.
Unlike strawberry jam, removing the pits is a bit annoying. Once you get the hang of it though, you can do it in no time, so it’s not too bad.
I simmered the mixture slowly in an enamel pot over the cooktop.
No matter what kind of plums you use, plum jam is always, without fail, sour. That’s common knowledge. You can add in heaps of sugar to balance it out, but adding too much makes the taste overbearing. In the end, adding roughly the same amount of sugar as strawberry jam creates the best ratio in my opinion. Plus, too much sugar isn’t good for your health.
Being sour is the identity of plum jam. Enjoying it in its most natural state is for the best. At least, that’s my policy with my homemade plum jam.
Anyway, like I’d warned Kon, green plum jam is potent. Could his taste buds really withstand it? I guess we’ll find out.
As the mixture simmered, the aromatic and sour scent of plums permeated the kitchen—no, it filled the entire house. Kon, who’d moved his seat near the stove and was watching the pot, swallowed audibly. The smell must have made him recall his past experience with plums and delicious umeboshi that would make anyone salivate.
It was an unavoidable phenomenon whenever one was reminded of the sweet and sour plums, and I wasn’t an exception. Several audible gulps could be heard in the kitchen as the plum mixture continued to bombard our senses.
During the simmering process, Techi came back after a day of work. She washed her hands before making her way into the kitchen and sat down on a chair next to the counter. She took a deep inhale, then let out a long exhale. “Ahhh… This is my first time realizing that plums smell so divine.” She shook her head slowly. “Your plums are a great help… I feel alive again.”
Her comments seemed to come out of nowhere, and I struggled to interpret them. Kon seemed to recall something, because his ears and tail went limp and despondent.
Puzzled, I cocked my head and asked, “Did something happen in the orchard?”
Techi lifted her face and looked at me with wide eyes. The next moment, realization dawned on her features. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t know. It’s blooming season for chestnut trees. The peak of chestnut blooms might arrive somewhat earlier in other regions, but we just reached that in the Wilds. The orchard is filled with chestnut flowers everywhere, and it’s awful.”
I blinked. “Awful? I’ve seen pictures of chestnut flowers before, but they were pretty, like weeping cherry flowers… Wait. Oh, I got it, it’s the smell you’re talking about. Chestnut flowers are stinky, right?”
Both Techi and Kon hung their heads with disgruntled faces. Chestnut flowers are already stinky to humans, who have duller senses than beastfolk. I couldn’t imagine what kind of experience would be like for the pair. Though they’d put up with it since it was their work, they both despised it to the point of reacting like this at the very mention of it.
My curiosity was piqued. “What does it smell like, by the way?”
The two whipped up their heads in sync and said in unison, “It smells like the nightmare edition of the broth left by parboiled bamboo shoots.”
I think they mean the liquid left behind after you skim the scum off. I’ve prepared bamboo shoots a few times when they’re in season, and I have to agree that the stench is almost unbearable. But Techi and Kon have to endure the hellish version of it… They have my respect.
They even said the same thing without giving each other any signals. This description must be common knowledge or a go-to phrase. These two must have suffered so much… Hmm, should I make something like perfume or aroma sachets? Then again, the entire orchard is filled with these flowers. It’ll only be a drop in the ocean.
In that case, I should at least help them soothe their noses inside this house. Okay, during this period, let’s make fruit jam and savory food with aromatic herbs or spices, I decided.
I checked the plum jam again, and it was roughly the right consistency. I used the wooden spatula—which had been stirring the pot—to scoop a tiny bit of jam onto a small plate I fetched. I poured the steaming and viscous paste into my mouth.
It was sour. Really, really sour.
It was supposed to be sour, but I still had to comment on it. My entire mouth puckered. The sour soreness even spread to my cheeks, and all my muscles contracted painfully.
Seeing the pained grimace on my mouth didn’t deter the other two. Their curiosity won out, and they both held out small plates to me. Without a word, I scooped jam onto their plates.
Against their better judgment, the pair immediately poured all the jam down their throat without hesitation. A moment later, two shrieks of pain echoed out.
“It’s so sooour!” Kon cried.
“How can food be this sour?!” Techi exclaimed.
Laughter slipped out of my mouth at their comical reactions. I made some good jam indeed. I nodded to myself and began preparing the jars I’d store them in.