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Organic Pigments – the inside (the cell) story

Last time on the blog we discussed inorganic natural pigments: natural colors from mineral, geological sources. This time we will talk about natural organic (meaning, containing tetrahedral carbon, as opposed to inorganic carbonates or graphite or diamond) pigments, of plant and animal origin.


But first, some breaking news: An organic pigment, thought to be lost to history, has been rediscovered in its plant source, and has been for the first time chemically characterized. Portuguese scientist Paula Nabais, from the Universidade NOVA de Lisboa, and her colleagues reported last week in Science Advances (a publication of the American Association for the Advancement of Science) the results of a thorough historical and chemical investigation into folium, a stable blue pigment used in the Middle Ages for manuscript illumination, but unfamiliar and unavailable to artists in the modern era. Dr. Nabais and her colleagues read primary sources from the Middle Ages up to the 19th century CE to learn how medieval artists identified the plant (Chrozophora tinctoria) and extracted its water-soluble blue color (including some tricks and tips that may have stymied modern researchers trying to recreate the historical pigment). They then used state-of-the-art spectroscopic techniques and computer modeling to elucidate the exact chemical structure of the pigment extracted from the plants and to confirm its absorption spectrum. The pigment thus described was new to science, and was given the name chrozophoridin by Dr. Nabais and her coauthors. This is very exciting, and may lead to this ancient color returning to modern works of art.

The fruits of Chrozophora tinctoria, examples of the water-soluble folium pigment solution adsorbed into linen clothlets, and the chemical structures of hermidin (a precursor) and the newly described chrozophoridin. Figure 1 from P. Nabais, J. Oliveira, F. Pina, N. Teixeira, V. de Freitas, N. F. Brás, A. Clemente, M. Rangel, A. M. S. Silva, M. J. Melo, Science Advances 17 Apr 2020 : eaaz7772.

Organic (and organometallic) pigments differ from the inorganic pigments because of the presence of organic carbon. Carbon has several chemical forms: carbonate, graphite, diamond, and organic. Organic carbon’s particular chemical properties and reactivity have made it the basis for all biochemicals (at least on this planet). Carbon becomes organic by way of photosynthesis, in which carbon dioxide (a non-ionic inorganic form of carbon) is reduced (meaning, electrons are added), and incorporated into (at first) simple sugars, which then go on in metabolism to make carbohydrates, proteins, lipids, nucleic acids – all the useful biochemicals. Most biochemicals are, however, largely colorless, particularly in solution; think of egg whites (proteins) or sugar syrup (carbohydrates). They absorb ultraviolet light, but we can’t see this (sometimes, if the absorption spectrum is strong enough, these look somewhat yellow, as the absorption peak spills over into visible light). However, some biochemicals, including some that are in coordination with metal ions, have chemical structures that result in absorption peaks in the visible wavelength range, which means they have color. These compounds, or the portions of the compounds that are responsible for light absorption (if it’s a large compound) are frequently called chromophores.

The chemical structure of beta-carotene. Double bonds are shown as parallel lines: single bonds as single lines. Each “corner” or end of a line segment represents a carbon atom. In this kind of diagram hydrogen atoms are not shown, and you just know that there are sufficient hydrogens at each corner or end to add up to 4 bonds coming from each carbon atom. Other elements are shown by their abbreviations, but beta carotene contains nothing but carbon and hydrogen.
The alternating single and double bonds give rise to its familiar orange color.

What gives chromophores their optical properties is a particular chemical structure: alternating single and double bonds (often called conjugated bonds) between carbon atoms. This structure creates a ‘cloud’ of electrons with energy levels that can be similar to visible light photons (and thus result in absorption of the photon). The location and shape of the resulting absorption peaks depends on the number of conjugated bonds, and the shape of the structure itself. Orange and yellow carotenes, for example, are long lines of conjugated bonds, with some stuff at either end. Rings are frequently found in these structures. In The Science of Pigments we talked about the porphyrin rings that bind up metal ions to make chlorophyll or heme (found in hemoglobin or cytochromes). Open up this ring, remove the metal ion, and you get a bilin, which is a chromophore found in blue-green algae or, yes, bile. Eww.

An important chemical structure that is often part of chromophores is a ring of six carbon atoms, with alternating single and double bonds that make what is called an aromatic structure. Aromatic structures are very important biochemicals because they not only occur in strong-smelling compounds (thus the name), but they are also very chemically and physically stable. They resist chemical and physical attack quite well. Hold that thought, because one of the main factors that regulate whether a biological pigment is useful for making artistic pigment is its stability. We don’t use chlorophyll a as a painting pigment in part because if you expose it to acidic conditions or even just look at it funny the chromophore will give up its magnesium ion and turn from a lush blue-green color to a dispiriting gray in an instant. And the brilliant colors of anthocyanins of flowers (and purple carrots) can fade quickly (how disappointing it is to cook a purple carrot and see that color lost – in this case the orange or yellow carotenes are far more stable than the purple anthocyanins).

But for a moment let’s consider the role of pigments in organisms. In some cases, but not necessarily all, the color of the pigment plays some sort of crucial role in the life of the organism; sometimes the color is incidental. But, the electronic arrangements that make them able to absorb light makes them uniquely useful as biochemicals. Pigments, such as chlorophylls, absorb light energy for the purpose of photosynthesis; also, pigments can block excess light from damaging cells, like the yellow lutein or flavonoids found in land plants, or melanin in some mammals. Pigments, such as cytochromes (heme containing) are involved in electron transport chains in everything from bacteria on up, used in photosynthesis and respiration to generate chemical energy for cells. Lots of vitamins contain chromophores – and in fact the important role of translating light flux into nerve impules in the eye is played by a carotenoid derivative, retinol. Red colored heme is also found in hemoglobin, where it is used to transport oxygen through blood in many organisms. And, importantly, organisms use pigments as color for recognition purposes (colors and patterns so members of the same species can recognize each other so as to avoid mating … accidents, warning coloration for poisonous organisms), and for stealth. The bright colors of flowers, often from a diverse group of organic compounds called anthocyanins, help their pollinators recognize them (many bees can see into the ultraviolet so some flower pigments have features invisible to our eyes but stand out quite obviously to the right bee). Unfortunately, despite the wide range of colors all across the spectrum that can be produced by organic pigments, not all are suitable for making paints or dyes. The main reason for this is stability. Many of these biochemicals are evolved to be reactive: biochemical processes in the cells transform them into something else, but they can subsequently be recycled by other biochemical processes. Away from the cellular machinery that maintains them, organic pigments can break down, fall into disrepute, become fugitive.

The chemical structure of indigo. Black balls are carbon, blue are nitrogen, red are oxygen. The dotted lines indicate the aromatic structures. Via Wikipedia, by Jynto.
This file is made available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.

One example of a reputable, upright, good citizen amongst organic pigments is the familiar blue of indigo. Indigo has a chemical structure that contains not one but two of those aromatic rings, in part leading to its resistance to degradation by enzymes and ultraviolet radiation. The exact role of indigo and its precursors in the cell is obscure, but it is derived from the amino acid tryptophan (which does not make you sleepy, and isn’t particularly abundant in turkey, but contains an aromatic ring, and is a component of most proteins and enzymes in all cells). Indigo is also widely distributed, occurring in multiple plant species around the world. The same pigment is found in ‘true indigo’ in the Indian subcontinent, woad in Europe, anil in America, and dyer’s knotweed in Asia. Amazingly enough the important historical color Tyrian purple contains essentially the same chemical compound as does indigo and woad, but its source is the shell of a marine snail.

Indigo requires some chemical gymnastics to properly implement as a dye or pigment (the topic of a future article?) but once extracted and properly prepared, provides a stable and beautiful color.

Yarn dyed with madder, Colonial Williamsburg (modern era). This illustrates the range of colors that can be realized from the same plant material. Photo: Madison60, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

Another important historical color that is known to be less of a good pigment citizen is madder. Madder is a medium sized (up to 4′) plant whose roots contain a couple different closely related anthoquinones (not terribly different from the quinine in your gin and tonic, cheers), alizarin and purpurin. These can function as antioxidants and antimicrobials in the plant, and incidentally happen to have crimson and purple colors that were much prized in the middle ages for dyeing. Madder is known to be rather fugitive as a pigment for paints (mean it breaks down over time as a result of oxidation by oxygen or sunlight), and has been largely replaced by synthetic dyes. However, madder gives us a good transition to the end of this article, as madder is one of the earliest examples of pigments that were known to have been chemically altered by people to make their properties more useful. Next time we’ll talk about ancient and modern methods of altering natural products to better suit our purposes.

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Pigments in the Landscape

Last time we talked about the physics and chemistry of pigments, both natural and synthetic, and how they come to have the colors that we value. This time we’re going to discuss natural earth and mineral pigments, their origins, and their mineral and chemical composition.

The Altamira cave bison paintings date from 20,000 years BCE. The ancient artists used ochre and hematite-containing clays for the red, yellow and brown tones, and charcoal for the black lines. Reproductions at the Museo del Mamut, Barcelona 2011. Photo by Thomas Quine. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

Natural earth pigments are, according to archaeologists, some of the earliest pigments used for art by humans. The earliest paintings known included paints made from earth pigments, and charcoal. Earth pigments are, in their simplest form, soil that lacks organic matter, composed of mixtures of minerals, some of which confer color to the mixture. Soil can be classified by its mineral composition and its particle size, with clay being much smaller than (for example) sand particles. Clays are generally formed in river beds, with the action of flowing water grinding the mineral particles down to tiny sizes. But massive clay deposits, relics of ancient water bodies, are found in rocks on dry land as well. The earliest artists used naturally occuring clay of varying colors as the basis for their pigments, as the fine grains of clay are best for making smooth, regular pigment powders that can be mixed with binders or dispersants to make paints.

The clay deposits found in Roussilon, France, were a major source of ocher pigments in the 18th and 19th centuries.
Photo by “BlueBreezeWiki.” This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

The bulk of the material in earth pigments is not the actual mineral that confers the color. The deposits of colorful clay that ancient and modern artists use come from the erosion of rocks into tiny particles, and reflect the origin and chemical composition of the original rocks. For the most part, these are mostly varying degrees of black or white or even crystalline and clear. Take a look at your beach sand. If your beach sand comes from the erosion of mixed continental rocks, you will see individual bits of clear quartz, or black or gray bits of other kinds of rock, mixed in with a few brightly colored grains of minerals. If your beach sand comes from fresh(ish) lava deposits, it could be very black. If your sand comes from coral reefs or limestone, it may be bright white. The famous pink sand beaches in Bermuda are mostly pure white grains of calcium carbonate from coral reefs, with a few bright red shells of a particular foraminiferan (a microorganism that makes a red calcium carbonate shell). If you were to clean and dry and grind Bermuda sand to the consistency of clay, you would have a pale pink pigment powder. Most of the naturally occurring earth pigments are similar sorts of mixtures; a ground of silicate-containing mineral rocks of no particular color, with bright mineral additives. Some synthetic pigments are made this way; a colorless natural earth is doped with a brightly colored synthetic mineral, so that it behaves similarly to a natural earth when used in pigments.

The most common and robust colors in natural earths are of course the reds and yellows and browns. These colors almost all come from various forms of iron oxide, complexed with water and oxygen in various ways that result in different shades, and mixed of course with the background material. Iron is quite abundant in the universe, as it is the heaviest element that can be made by the nuclear reactions of a normal star. To make larger elements requires a supernova explosion, and those are rather rare. So it is no surprise to see the familiar colors of rust and earth pigments in the canyons of Mars, the ice sheets of Europa, and the craggy surface of distant Pluto. Metallic iron, combined with water, leads to the familiar rust, which is one kind of iron oxide. Other iron oxides are formed through geological processes, involving heat or pressure or exposure to oxidixing chemicals other than water.

Purple sand at Pfeiffer Beach, Big Sur, also contains a black magnetic ferrous mineral. Fun stuff!

The mineral that gives yellow ocher its color is called limonite (not surprisingly). It is a hydrated iron oxide, which means the iron oxide (plain old rust) is complexed with water in a more or less permanent way that changes the electronic structure of the metal to change its absorption spectrum. The red in natural pigments often comes from hematite, which is an anhydrous (lacking water) iron oxide. Some hematites look purple (as in the sand at Pfeiffer Beach, in Big Sur), but it is the same mineral, and a feature of the grain size causes the red to have a purplish tone. Grinding the sand down to clay size may, sadly, eliminate the purple. Green colors in some natural earths come from iron in a different oxidation state, complexed with magnesium and aluminum, in minerals like celedonite (also, not surprisingly named).

Historically, natural clays found in the landscape were used by artists for pigments, giving each their local flavor. When trade began moving materials long distances across the Earth, pigments went with them. Desirable colors found in deposits in particular locations the world have become standards. For example, clay deposits found near the city of Siena or the region of Umbria in Italy have given their names to the colors that derive from their pigment powders. Sienna and Umber pigments have more manganese oxides than ocher pigments, leading to darker colors. Heating sienna and umber pigments causes some of the iron oxides to dehydrate, further darkening their color and leading to burnt sienna or burnt umber.

Naturally occuring colored clay is not the only way to obtain a natural mineral pigment, however. Certain minerals that occur in interesting colors and in large enough deposits can be ground finely to make a pigment directly. These minerals generally originate from infrequent and inconveniently located geological processes, deep in the earth. Making them available for use on the surface requires uplift of the regions where they occurred, and erosion to expose them, and perhaps even mining into the earth to find them. Frequently these situations occur in the high mountains of the world, where uplift and erosion can be ongoing processes in the present.

The most precious pigment used in Europe in the ancient world and the middle ages – more expensive than gold! – was ultramarine, made from finely-ground bits of the semiprecious stone lapis lazuli. Lapis lazuli is a metamorphic rock (meaning, transformed by temperatures or pressures deep in the earth) found in several places around the world, but most importantly in the mountains of Afghanistan. Lapis lazuli from Afghanistan traveled very far in the ancient and prehistoric world, with ancient examples of lapis beads found in west Africa, and famously on the coffin of the pharoah Tutankhamen. The mineral that gives lapis lazuli its lovely blue color is called lazurite. The rock itself is often found with inclusions of pyrite (a shiny, gold or brassy iron mineral). The blue itself comes from a particular ionic state of sulfur. Burning sulfur in an oxygen atmosphere can produce blue flames (don’t do this). Another place you can see blue sulfur is erupting from the famous sulfur volcanoes of Jupiter’s moon Io. Iozurite, a blue pigment similar to lapis lazuli, may be a very precious AEP product of the far future.

Green malachite and blue azurite are found in this rock from Arizona.
Photo by Robert Lavinsky. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

As you can imagine, from ancient times people have ground up interesting colored rocks and minerals to try and make pigments (at this point I should caution you not to grind up the gorgeous blue-green serpentine rocks of central California as this could be hazardous; the fibrous minerals are similar to asbestos). The ancients were familiar with the bright green mineral malachite as a copper ore: heating malachite over a hot fire causes it to break down and release the copper metal. But they also ground malachite to make a green pigment. Malachite is found in the deposits of ancient limestone caves, where mineral rich water ran over the calcium carbonate, producing reactions that precipitated the mineral into a solid. Deposits of malachite in the Fertile Crescent supplied the ancient world with copper for making bronze, but malachite is found in many places around the world. Malachite sometimes occurs alongside azurite, also a copper mineral, which is a bright blue. Azurite was also used as a pigment (like ultramarine, it is rare and expensive). Turquoise is another mineral rock whose blue color comes from copper, and whose formation involves the weathering of rocks (igneous, rather than carbonate). Deposits of turquoise are found in many places and it is one of the most important gemstones worldwide. Turquoise can be ground to make pigment, but it is more precious than malachite so this was rare.

Of course, artists have never been limited in the colors they use by what they can dig up from the ground. Next time we’ll talk more about organic pigments, derived from biological materials, and their origins.

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Old Dog, New Tricks

Old Dog, New Tricks

Our ten year old miniature Aussie, (known here as The Disreputable Dog), is as puzzled by the effects of the pandemic as are the people. He is having a hard time with this weekend that never ends. All his people are home, but the Saturday / Sunday routine is not being followed! This is causing anxiety! And the mail and delivery people are constantly around the neighborhood and must be barked at. Clearly he needs some new activities. A canine Pandemic Project!

Of course he is of herding dog heritage, so one of the things we thought of first was agility competition! In agility competitions, dogs run through an obstacle course with poles to weave through, gates to jump over, ramps to climb, etc. There is specialized equipment you need – however, there are things that you can build. We had a number of PVC bits and pieces left over from a previous plumbing project, so building some new agility course structures was a simple matter of doing some research on the Internet, one trip to the hardware store, and some quality time with the tabletop circular saw.

We decided to build a two-level gate, out of 1 1/4″ PVC pipe, and a pole-weaving course out of 3/4″ pipe. We just stuck the pipe segments into the fittings without gluing them, to make it easy to disassemble and store or transport the gadgets. For the pole course, we will probably drill some holes through the fittings into the pipes and put some machine screws in there to keep the poles straight up and down, but for the most part this isn’t necessary. And, if we have an irrigation emergency that requires PVC fittings … they’re already here! Just kidding. Mostly. Finally, we had a folding ramp that we use to get the dog in and out of tall truck beds: with a support under the hinge it becomes a ^ shaped ramp.

Then of course we had to introduce the Disreputable Dog to his new toys. He immediately assumed that they were obstacles to be cirumnavigated, which he did, at speed. Well done. But no. Some training is necessary.

With considerable nudging from knee and lead, he made it through the weave course. Frankly, we don’t think he quite understands how that is supposed to work just yet. Maybe we’ll get him to watch some videos on Youtube.

The jump was a bit easier. We started him off on the low setting for now, should be a piece of cake. We’ll set it to the higher height later. First try? Around! No, wait, try again … over! Excellent form.

The ramp, however, he already knew what to do: after completing the jump, run at full speed to the ramp, then up to the peak, turn right and leap off into the air! Once again, Dog, your ability to make up new rules for the game is impressive. Most impressive.

Second time was more the charm, but he still is jumping off early. He considers it inefficient. It will take him longer to return to the starting point if he runs all the way down! Who would do that?

After a few more runthroughs of this short course, it’s time to take a break. Can’t have all the fun at once!

Did you say … TREAT?

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We’re Jammin’

Hope you like jammin’ too …

Ooh yeah, we’re jammin’, hey

To think that jammin’ was a thing of the past

We’re jammin’, we’re jammin’

And I hope this jam is gonna last

Bob Marley

We’re basically Midwesterners, so canning and preserving is a fundamental brainstem function for us. But more than this – we’ve been driven to it by necessity, as we can’t keep up with the amount of fruit our trees produce. But, anyone can do this; it’s creative and fun and you get to put up some jars of yummy stuff for the winter. Let’s make some jam!

In this tutorial we’ll describe the basics of how to make a cooked, processed jam from fresh fruit. This is perhaps the most complicated way to do jam. There are simpler methods, and those that require fewer special things, but if you can do this method you can do all of them.

For this method, you’re going to need some stuff. In addition to the jam ingredients (fruit, granulated sugar, pectin powder), you’ll need jars, lids and rings (about $10 for a dozen pint sized jars at the supermarket or hardware store), a big stock pot that’s deep enough to boil the jars in with a couple inches of water on top, and a smaller (but still big) pot to cook your jam down in. Other things that can help tremendously but aren’t required are a canning funnel (it has a wide neck for pouring jam into jars), and a canning tongs (it’s got an odd shape but has coated wire for grabbing jars out of boiling water safely). Special “processing pots” for canning are really big and have a basket that sits inside for easily pulling out jars. You will want all this stuff if you end up doing a lot of canning, but you don’t need to acquire it all at once, and if you’re just doing small amounts you can easily make do with tools you already have in the kitchen.

Start with fresh fruit – not too ripe, or it won’t set as well.

This year, strawberries came early to this county, so we’re going to describe how to make a batch of strawberry jam. The moves are going to be the same for different fruits, but you’ll use different amounts of fruit and sugar and maybe other ingredients depending on exactly what you’re canning. One thing we strongly recommend is to use the ‘less sugar’ recipes listed on the instructions in a “pink box” package of Sure-Jell pectin. We like to taste our fruit and its tartness and not to be overwhelmed by sugary sweetness.

Washed lids and rings ready for canning. The red wand has a magnet on the end that makes it easy to handle lids.

Before you begin, you’ll have to wash your jars, rings, and lids. The lids have a rubber seal on the inside that works best when it’s softened a bit, so when you’re ready to jar your jam you should put the clean lids in hot water to warm the seal up.

Measure out your sugar, pectin and fruit, and have it all ready to go at once.

Now to the fruit. To do a batch of 8 to 10 8 ounce (half pint) jars of jam, you need around 12 cups of whole strawberries (at least five baskets), one packet of pink box Sure-Jell pectin powder, and 4 cups of granulated sugar (cane sugar is best). We like relatively early fruit – there’s a balance here between the full flavor of ripe fruit, and the better setting power and tartness of less than fully ripe fruit. A whole batch of wholly ripe fruit will not set well and might have a cloying flavor. A mix is good. Wash the fruit very well, cut off the green parts and any bad spots, and dice the fruit into 1/2 inch pieces (this isn’t critical – you can have smaller or bigger pieces if you like, so long as you can fit them into the jars). When they’re chopped they should make something like 8 cups of fruit (so this should tell you how big your cooking pot should be – like 12 cups or bigger). Mix together the packet of pectin and 1/4 cup of the sugar you have already measured, then put that mix into your cooking pot with the diced strawberries, and mix well. Mash the strawberries a bit with a potato masher to macerate them and release some of their juice.

Now it’s time to cook the jam. Have the rest of your sugar at hand, and a kitchen timer that can give you an accurate measurement of one minute. Put in a teaspoon or so of butter if you like – this will help reduce frothing in the jam. On high heat, bring the fruit / pectin mixture to a full rolling boil – this means, the boiling doesn’t stop when you stir the mixture. This means the whole volume of the mixture is at the boiling point. Then, add the rest of your sugar (3 3/4 cups), and stir it in well. Once again, keep stirring and bring the mixture back to a full rolling boil. when it has reached the full rolling boil, start your timer and boil for exactly one minute more. Then turn off the burner and remove the pot from the heat. Congratulations: you’ve made jam. At this point, as it cools, the jam will set into the familiar jam texture. However, you’d like to keep some for later – so your’e going to have to can it in jars and process it to prevent any spoilage. This should be done quickly while the jam is still hot!

You’re going to need to have enough boiling water in your canning pot to cover your jars by an inch or two. Make sure you’ve got that going before you fill your jars. You will probably need to process more than one batch of jars, so depth is more important than width in this case. Important note: everything is going to be hot. Be careful. Getting boiling jam on your skin is painful and could cause burns (also, tasty when it cools).

Fill the jars using a ladle or spoon and the canning funnel if you have it. You’re going to need to allow some headspace between the top of the jam and the lid – for this recipe it’s about 1/4 inch, but other recipes might need more headspace. Be sure and check your recipe. Check the rim of the jar and the threads, they should be free of jam. Use a damp paper towel to clean them off if necessary. Jam on the rim of the jar could prevent a good seal. Jam on the threads could stick the ring. Place the lid on, then the ring, and tighten finger tight (not too much).

This is a big processing pot with a basket that lets you do a lot of jars at once.

When you’ve filled enough jars to fill your processing pot, pop them into the boiling water, wait for the water to boil again, set your timer (15 minutes for this jam, but it could be 10-30 minutes depending on what you are canning). While you’re waiting for the first batch to process, you can fill the next set of jars.

When the timer goes off you can pull your jars out! If you don’t have a canning tongs you can use barbecue tongs, or silicone mitts, or a ladle – just remember the jars will be boiling hot. It helps to carefully wipe off any standing water on the top of the lid (to prevent deposits). Most of the time, as the jars cool, you will here a pop or ping sound as the lids contract and stick down to the rim to seal the lid.

Let the jars cool. Test the jars by pressing down on the center of the lid. If it moves (pops down), the jar did not set properly, and it won’t keep. If the lid is already down, you have successfully preserved the jam. It will stay good for up to 18 months. You will notice that the hot jam is still liquid – even after it cools it will take days to set, so don’t worry if your jam seems runny, just be patient and it will be fine. When you open a jar of jam, you will need to eventually discard the lid – the seals can only be used once – but you can save the jars and rings to use again and again. Some of our jars and rings have seen ten seasons of use.

This basic procedure can be used for any number of jams: the differences between them will be the amount of fruit or sugar or pectin or other additives (like lemon juice) which will depend on the type of fruit and so forth. You can look at the directions in your packet of pectin, or you can refer to other authorities (our canning guru is Esther H. Shank, author of Mennonite Country-Style Recipes, which is an amazing cookbook includes recipes and guidelines for canning almost anything you can imagine). You don’t always need pectin to set jam or marmalade, sometimes additional cooking is all you need (but be careful or you might accidentally make candy). But something like this is how people in America have saved summer fruits and vegetables for the winter, for centuries. And as Bob Marley observed, jammin’ is not a thing of the past. Enjoy!

Thank you for joining us as we do Pandemic Projects, meant to keep you energized, curious and learning!