BLORP!

Since it’s been a stormy summer day with Little Dog cowering and trembling and chattering her wee teeth when the thunder booms, I found the time to peruse the net to find lovely things to make with my newfound figgy wealth.

ka-BOOM!

I curled up in the comfy chair and went to my jam-guru blog, but alas, found no fig recipes. Check her out anyway. Especially her strawberry vanilla jam recipe, which the Power Rangers call CRACK JAM. I dole it out to them when feeling all queenly and magnanimous.

So I Googled “fig jam recipe” and a slew popped up, of course. But one stood out: Drunken Fig Jam.

Allow me to break it down:

DRUNKEN.

FIG.

JAM.

And I was smitten because what’s better than succulent figs? Fig jam! And what’s better than that? DRUNKEN fig jam. To quote Madame JoJo: oh, HELLS yeah.

As I cross-referenced my household supplies against the recipe, I knew it was Meant To Be:

Recipe says four cups of sugar. That’s what I had. Exactly.

The wee black knotted vanilla bean I let live in the now-empty sugar jar.

Recipe says ¾ cup brandy. That’s what I had. Exactly. Well, its understudy, Grand Marnier. But it worked sublimely.

No mo’ Marnier!

Thus begins the jamming:

Chopped up figgy bliss with microplaned lemony goodness.

Vanilla-sugary grit and mess.

After a one-hour nap. Juices flowing, ready for the heat!

The recipe called for mashing, but because of my food texture issues (I hate the unexpected stealth chunk in an otherwise pristinely smooth jam), I’m a huge fan of the wand mixer. VROOOM!

Blorping merrily and smelling like boozy heaven.

BLORP! This time with gnarly, weirdly goldenrod-colored, foamy grossness. Skimmed that nasty, foamy little ickiness and none came back, so WOOT!

I got 4 pints total from this recipe instead of the 3 pints they said would be the outcome, but to be fair, I probably started out with at least a half pound more figs than I needed.

It’s just lovely. The vanilla sugar adds a nice, caramelly smoke to the rich, figgy flavor, and I may just hunker down and eat my not-enough-for-a-full-jar jam with a spoon.

No judgement. It’s jam time.

Sincerely,

Bonnycate

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