A Stash Of Summer

To keep bright berries for the dark days, try preserves prepared with the sun

IN LEO LIONNI'S children's book called "Frederick," a family of field mice busily collects and stores food for winter. All the mice except Frederick, who sits quietly on a warm rock absorbing the sun's rays and summer's bright colors. The other mice chastise Frederick for not helping prepare for winter. But when the days turn short and all their food is gone, the mice grow sad and gratefully look to Frederick for his provisions — warm, vibrant visions of summer.

Those of us who make jam can surely identify with busy mice who store food for winter, but what if we could also be like Frederick and gather sun rays for the cold, dark days ahead? By making "sunshine preserves," you can literally capture summer in a glass jar. We have so little sun here, might as well try to preserve every drop. During those precious few weeks each year when the skies are clear and the temperature hot, seize the moment and soak up some sunshine in your own yard to save for winter.

A long-ago friend of my mother's in Portland taught me the technique of using sunshine to thicken preserves. Her name was Bettina Canon, a homemaker and liberal activist who my like-minded mother met in the mid-1960s. I have handwritten directions from Bettina dated June 7, 1989, based on a historical Oregon recipe. Unlike jams and jellies that require pectin for thickening, preserves are whole pieces of luscious, ripe fruit in thick sugar syrup. Bettina's age-old method of making preserves calls for another essential ingredient: concentrated sunshine. Now, you can't find that at the local grocery store. No wonder today most people in these parts have never heard of this technique!

She explained how to cook your berries of choice (I prefer local organic strawberries or raspberries) with sugar for a few minutes on the stove, then spread the mixture in a shallow pan or tray, cover it most of the way with plastic wrap or a pane of glass, and place it in the sun to evaporate.

How long it takes to thicken your preserves depends on your sun. In one Sunset Magazine test, it took two hours in Phoenix and 10 hours in Seattle. Most recipes I found call for two or three days in the sun. Bettina suggested "up to three days." For concentrated sunshine here, you'd better plan on doing your preserving in July or August. If it takes you more than a day, bring the pan in at night and put it back out in full sun the next day.

How long evaporation takes, of course, also depends on your berries, which depends on the season. Juicy berries will need more evaporation. How long also depends on how thick you like your preserves. (Warning: If you don't tolerate ambiguity well, this process is not for you!)

A batch I made in May (what was I thinking?) still hadn't thickened after two days uncovered in a bright but rain-streaked window, so my kids and I gladly snatched some of the fragrant strawberry sauce to top our vanilla ice cream. If you are impatient, you can always pour off some of the succulent syrup to save for sundaes or pancakes. Just remember that summer usually tastes best when you are furthest from it — like in January or February, when winter gets really long.

Bettina wrote that the preserves should be briefly reheated before storing. All other recipes I found, however, said that was unnecessary. But the thought of a sweet, sugary mess sitting out for days with the birds and the bees kind of makes me queasy. So for advice, I checked with Washington State University's Pierce County Extension. The food-safety program assistant there, Lois Clowers, was adamant that the fruits of your labor should be brought to a boil before canning or freezing. I always reheat my preserves just to the point of a simmer, which thins out the syrup. Don't be discouraged after all your hard work in the sun: as they cool, they will thicken up again. I then go through the hot ordeal of sterilizing glass jars, filling them with the berry mixture, and boiling them in a canning pot for five minutes. This way, they can be given as presents or kept for a year on my pantry shelf, to be pulled out when we are most desperate for a decadent taste of summer.

No question, cooking with sunshine is far more art than science, especially in the Northwest. But this technique is simple, easy and divinely rewarding. So have fun experimenting — with fresh local berries, sugar and that precious summer sun, you really can't go wrong. On a dreary December day, what better pleasure than to open a jar and unleash the sweet, happy taste of August?

Frederick would approve.

Catherine M. Allchin is a Seattle freelance writer. Barry Wong is a Seattle-based free-lance photographer. He can be reached at barrywongphoto@earthlink.net.