How to Make Apricot Preserves in a Dormitory

NOTE: this has been a loooooooong post coming.  I forgot what file I saved these pictures under, hence the few week delay from the actual festivities.   Enjoy and comment. J

We have all heard the stories about frugal college students stealing saltine crackers and condiment packets from the cafeteria.  The tales conjure images of depression era craftiness—or thievery in the eyes of management.  Being a girl from the land of plenty, I could never really picture myself hording mini sugar packets.  Raspberry jam packets, sure. But, who wants a bazillion miniscule envelopes of sodium chloride?  But low and behold, I am now one of them: the apple thief—and now the neighborhood fruit thief.

Earlier this month, Ellen and Autumn went out to pick some apricots from a tree that overhung an old lady’s property about 3 blocks off campus.  We figured that since the fruit was already beginning to ferment in the ground, no one else was going to eat it.  So, Ellen + Autumn gathered up a whole grocery bag of quasi-soupy apricots—along with armfuls of grapes from the neighbor’s out-of-control bushes and apples that “happened” to fall off a few trees.  Nothing, my dears, is safe from desperate university students.  Guard your produce wisely. [Insert evil guffaw here].

By the time the fruit made it back to the dorm mini-fridges, the apricots had begun to leak out of their plastic Albertson’s bag. Ewwwww. Long term storage turned into imminent issue… Thus, the Jam Party was born. 

 Ingredients + supplies:

1 Albertson’s bag of mushy apricots

7 C&H sugar packets (preferably taken from the school cafeteria)

¼ of honey, plus or minus to your taste

2 stone hard, green apples

1 plastic knife (and a couple of backups for when the first one snaps in half)

1 sauce pan that looks like it was used for a murder weapon—if it resembles a kidney bean instead of a cylinder, you are in good condition

1 lollipop sized stirring spoon

1 kitchen sink that has a trust-worthy drain cover

1 ancient, pea-green 1960s stove top (I recommend an electric version for the full effect)

8 slices of bread (optional)

Peanut butter (optional)

Directions:

Go rent the key to the dormitory kitchen and needed kitchen supplies at the front office.  Be prepared to sign-away  your soul and dignity.  As knives are “not permitted” in the dormitories, the front desk staff kindly pointed us in the direction of a box of plastic butter knives to do our cooking.  (This is where it is in your best interest to snag a few extra butter knives.  Under-ripe apples do not cut nicely without a real blade).

Haul all supplies up the elevator or stairs to the roof where the tiny, 6x7 kitchenette is located.  

At this point, split up the preparation labor.  Put someone in charge of mutilating the apples and a few someones in charge of sifting through the apricot mush in the sink to remove the pits.  I was in charge of chopping/shaving the apples into smithereens.   But, it only took two cuts for me to break the first butter knife in half . . . oops. Rather than waste our remaining butter knives, Ellen scrounged up her pocket-sized bread knife which we covertly used to finish to chopping job.

Place half the apple chunks, half of the apricot mush and the sugar packets in the battered sauce pan.  Put the sauce pan on one of the stove tops and set to medium-high.  When we first turned on the burner, a fowl smelling smoke began to emit from below our jam pot.  Not pretty.  Ellen, Autumn and I all proceeded to freak out and frantically attempt to wave the smoke out of the room.  If the smoke alarm went off, ALL of Aber Hall would get a one way ticket out of the building.  The fire department would be called in to determine our jam as the source of the hullabaloo.  If your stove top begins to make ghastly smells, experiment with the other burners until you locate a cooperative burner.

Allow the fruit mush to come to a boil.  As soon as the mush starts to boil, take the lollipop sized spoon and stir like mad. If the jam goes un-stirred for more than 10 minutes, it will begin to adhere to the bottom of the sauce-pan.

Ellen posing with our cauldron of
sticky goodness.

Continue to stir the thickening fruit sauce for about 30 minutes.  Try to help break up the apple chunks by pulverizing them with the back of the spoon.  If the chunks cannot be beaten into submission, this is okay. Our jam had a rather lumpy consistency in the end.  Once the fruit sauce is relatively smooth and most of the liquid has evaporated off, taste test the mixture.  If you are like me, no extra sugar should be needed.  If you are like Autumn (or lookey-lou Clint), it may require a “healthy” squirt of honey.  Adjust the preserve to your personal preference.

Pour the reduced preserve into Ziploc/ Tupperware containers to cool.  I recommend sticking the containers in the freezer afterwards to help the preserve “gel-up” into a jam.  Otherwise, the preserve is more like a fruit paste. Yummy, but not jam.

If you are feeling a little frisky—or want to turn the jam making into a Jam Party—get ready to prepare some toast!  Turn all the electric burners onto low.  Allow the burners to warm up for about 5 minutes until they turn pink.  Place one slice of bread on each burner to start toasting.  Flip the pieces of bread about every 30 seconds several times until each slice is evenly toasted.  Spread with freshly made jam and peanut butter for one of the most labor intensive sandwich of your life. 

Anyone up for a dormitory jam session?

Cheers, kaite ;]