Under a Changing Moon by Benary-Isbert Margot

Author:Benary-Isbert, Margot [Benary-Isbert, Margot]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bethlehem Books
Published: 2015-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

Summer III

IN SUMMERS to come, whenever Paula passed an orchard and smelled the scent of ripe fruit, she could remember the summer of 1866 as if it were yesterday.

Under the chestnut tree by the steps leading from the side wing into the garden sat the aunts, each swathed in a large white apron, stripping red currants of their stems with forks into a large bowl. In the kitchen, the jelly was being made. The deep red juice simmered in the copper cauldron; bees hummed in through the open window, attracted by the sweet smell. When bubbles rose to the surface in the cauldron, it was time to throw in the pieces of sugar loaf, which had been broken up by one of the boys. This was done in a yellow chopping box with a knife that came down like an ax again and again until the pieces were small enough. In the storeroom, there still stood a long row of pointed sugar loaves wrapped in blue paper, each weighing ten pounds; by the end of the summer, there would be none left.

Once the sugar had dissolved, the froth could be taken off, and a little later a few drops had to be tested to see if the juice would set. The glass jars, covered with a clean cloth, stood ready to receive the boiling-hot juice. Once it had cooled, a little round of pergament paper soaked in rum was placed on top. Finally, the jars were covered over with squares of old linen and tied firmly.

The abundance seemed never-ending. Everything was ripe at once. Green gooseberries for fruit tarts had been put into empty wine bottles, covered with water, and sealed at the beginning of June. The blue stone jar, which was the rumpot, was already a quarter full of fruit, and whatever ripened in the garden was added to it with a spoonful of sugar, crushed fine in the mortar, sprinkled on top, then Jamaica rum poured on until everything was covered. In winter, when the fruit was thoroughly saturated with rum, it tasted wonderful with the boiled beef that was served as an hors d’oeuvre on Sundays.

Apart from syrups, jellies, and jams, Frau Margarete also made red-currant, black-currant, and gooseberry wines. She had an old family recipe that she would not entrust even to her dearest friends. The sweet heavy wine that resulted enjoyed great prestige among their circle, even among the canons of the cathedral chapter.

Tant de bruit pour une omelette! thought Paula, as all this fuss over preserving and wine making went on around her, but at least by now her sense of humor had asserted itself and she could smile at Mama’s industriousness instead of shedding tears over it, as she had done at the beginning.

Her thoughts these days were occupied almost all the time with whatever book she was reading, and luckily, there was plenty of time for thinking while she stirred the thick syrups or picked berries in the garden. Sometimes she would

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