Ok. I made two batches (10 jars) of cherry jelly and 6 jars of cherry jam. I put 3 or 4 cups into a big apothecary jar with vodka and Everclear to soak for a month or so. And I have a dehydrator filled with pitted cherries that are almost raisined up. We gave some away.
Then I weighed the remaining cherries. Thirty-three pounds to go. Plus whatever is still left on the tree.
Time for some wine.
This will be an adventure, because we know zero about making wine.
That’s just what I said yesterday when I buzzed in to the Bacchus & Barleycorn home brewing store in Shawnee.
“I know zero about wine making, but I have all these cherries…”
The guy behind the counter didn’t need to hear any more. “Yes, you and about everyone else in here this week.”
Apparently this was a very, very good year for cherries.
So I asked some questions and generally displayed my ignorance, then bought a book and some mysterious powders–total about $14. (It helps if your husband makes beer and already has the big fermenting tubs and airlock.”
A five-gallon batch of wine will take about 23 pounds of cherries, apparently.
Now for the bad news: All those cherries have to be pitted.
I whined and made a nuisance of myself about this. I’d had visions of just putting the cherries in the apple cider press for their juice.
But alas, no. You need the cherry flesh as well as the juice, he said. Also, if you leave the pits in–especially if they get cracked–they’ll leach out tannins and bad stuff you don’t want messing up your wine.
So today was cherry-pitting day.
I do have a pitter. It’s a heavy metal one that has a crank you turn. But the problem is, it mangles the cherries to pieces and all the juice runs out onto the table. That is if you can find the right kind of table to clamp it to.
No, this would be cherry pitting by hand.
I know from experience pitting that many cherries will be a huge mess. Last year, I ruined a pair of shorts and an apron because the juice, which looks like water at first, stains brown and never comes out.
So I now pit cherries outdoors and covered by a bright blue rain poncho. It makes me look, I imagine, like a demented, possibly dangerous village character.
I pitted last night and I pitted this afternoon, around my piano lesson schedule. I watched weather systems roll in. I watched Boy Scouts arriving at the church next door. Once in a while, they’d glance over and see me, covered in blue plastic in the heat, rocking back between the three bowls.
Mike, coming off his writing duties for the day, took pity on me and donned his own blue poncho. At last, at about 6:30 p.m., the job was finished.
Then it was time to add the powders and sugar. The envelopes I’d purchased sounded like ingredients for a potion. Campden, pectin enzyme, nutrient.
We put the top on and it will sit for the night. Tomorrow the yeast will go in.
It’s exciting, but at the same time, I have a bad feeling about this. This is because it’s all so new that I’ll be learning. There are bound to be mistakes–especially since the recipes I have from the store and the Internet vary so wildly.
I remember what it was like to be learning to make bread. My first loaf had thick ooze in the center more appropriate to a chocolate “lava” cake than a loaf of bread.
I now make all kinds of bread. But it took a lot of practice to get to that point.
A lot of practice.
Man, my thumbs are sore.
Posted by: Roxie
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