Strawberry Rhubarb Preserves

'Cause it ain't jam. Stephen, of the fabulous Stephen Saiz Salon on Union Square in San Francisco is so excited about "putting things up." He says he's never done it before. A fantastic cook, it's probably the only thing he hasn't tried. If he invites you for dinner say yes. If he starts talking about something he made recently start taking notes.

 He loved the Strawberry Rhubarb Jam; I found it cloyingly sweet. So I tried again. By now you all know I can't leave well enough alone in the recipe department...at least I'm not as bad as my Aunt Nini who thought "If a little fertilizer is good, a lot will be better" and fried her entire garden. 

So before the strawberry and rhubarb seasons are over, I tried again. With less sugar. Bliss. 

If you're an experienced jam maker you can skip to the recipe. But for Stephen, and everyone else who's not made real cooked jam before, here are the details.

Get the best ripe strawberries you can find. Think Farmer's Market, roadside stand. Not grocery store. 

Rinse the berries. Halve them if they are small, quarter them if they're ginormous. 

Before we go any further I should tell you this is easier with a few pieces of equipment. That's the bad news. The good news is they're not expensive or hard to find, and they don't take up much room when you're not using them. And they won't go out of fashion, unlike that pair of orange platform shoes I'm thinking about...

You will need:

A jar rack - to hold the jars when they go in a big pot full of boiling water. It's called a water bath. You probably already have a big pot - you can put a cake rack or a dish towel on the bottom to keep the glass jars from contact with the bottom of the pot, but it's a pain, and if you're gonna get serious (and you're gonna get serious, I promise) get the right tools.

A canning funnel. I use mine every day. Today I used it to put roasted nuts in a quart jar. I store everything in glass (you did read that post, right?) and trust me this makes putting things in jars a pleasure not a juggling act. Get one even if you're not gonna jam.

A pair of jar tongs, the funny things with the black handles. For lifting the finished jars out of the water bath. A few dish towels folded on the counter and you're on your way. You already have a ladle, right? 

I use the potato masher to smash the berries a little more, but you can skip this step.

Cut the tops and bottoms off the rhubarb...

...and cut into cubes.

Measure the fruit, add the lemon juice. 

Dump into a big heavy-bottomed pot. This can more than double in volume when it's boiling. I use a copper 8 quart pan. (you don't have to take notes - the recipe is all in one place below. You're welcome.)

Add the butter - this helps keep the foam down. So does using fully ripe fruit.

In a small bowl stir 1/4 cup sugar into the low-sugar pectin 

Mix this into the fruit in the kettle (don't you love that word?)

Over high heat stirring constantly, bring to a full rolling boil. That's a boil you can't stir down. Add the sugar...

...and bring back to a rolling boil. Boil for exactly one minute, then ladle into hot jars, leaving about 1/4 inch headroom. 

I use clean well-rinsed rubber gloves to handle the hot jars - more about the jars later.

Wipe the rims clean with a damp paper towel

and screw on two-piece lids - fairly tight, you don't want them leaking in the water bath! Place the jars in the rack

and lower into the boiling water bath and process for ten minutes. This means the water should be gently boiling for ten minutes. It may take a few minutes for the water to return to the boil when you put the jars in - don't start the timer until the water returns to a boil.

Remove from the water bath either by lifting out the whole rack (I find these silicone mitts are great for that) 

or by using the tongs to fish them out one at a time.

Set the hot jars on a towel - a cool granite counter can cause the jars to crack.

A few notes about timing: I start the big pot for the water bath about an hour before I start chopping fruit. I also put the jars in the dishwasher then - by the time your jam is ready the jars should be clean and hot, and the water bath boiling away.

Before you put the jars in the dishwasher remove the lids and rings. Pour boiling water over the lids and let them sit until you're ready to use them. 

Strawberry Rhubarb Preserves

6 cups smashed strawberries

2 cups rhubarb cut into 1/2 inch cubes

juice of one lemon

1 box low sugar pectin

4 cups sugar

1/2 teaspoon butter

Measure the fruit, add the lemon juice and butter, and place into a big heavy-bottomed pot. (I use a copper 8 quart pot) 

In a small bowl stir 1/4 cup sugar into the low-sugar pectin, then stir in to the fruit.

Over high heat stirring constantly, bring to a full rolling boil. Add the sugar and return to a full rolling boil. Boil exactly one minute, remove from heat and ladle into hot jars. Screw on lids, water bath for ten minutes.

Makes about 10 or 11 half pints. You won't want to share. You might think about chopping and freezing some rhubarb for later, the grocery stores carry frozen strawberries for when you get desperate but not rhubarb.

Stephen Saiz, this one's for you.

Stephen is a most wonderful hairdresser, artist, color genius. When first I sat in his chair, he fingered my hair with a frown.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked brightly.

"Oh, honey, your hair is very middle."

"Huh?"

"Middle age, middle class..."

He was right. It's not anymore. Even my mom loves what Stephen does, and she has very high standards. And she hates hair color...but not mine. A few years ago Stephen cut my hair short, and all my friends said I looked ten years younger. SO I went back to Stephen and Said "If you shave it will I look 20 years younger?" He patiently explained that's not how it works. Can't blame me for trying.

Stephen is also one of the most gifted cooks I know. Some of my best recipes came from him. So Stephen, this one's for you.


When I walked into Lisa's house the smells made my knees weak. I wanted to sit down and weep, then head for the kitchen. Her mother was visiting from Chicago, her mother who grew up in Lucca and can cook up a storm...without a recipe in sight. This day it was zucchini soup. I am not a huge zucchini fan, I'm not a huge soup fan, but she handed me a bowl, steaming hot, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with parmigiano....heaven. Maybe the best thing I've ever put in my mouth. And of course Maria Franceschini being the fabulous cook she is there was no recipe. Until now.

Maria Franceschini's Zucchini Soup - it will Change Your Life.

2 onions, finely diced
about 6 cloves of garlic, finely diced (okay I cheat and use a garlic press. Get over it.)
Olive oil to cover the bottom of the pan - I'm guessing 3 to 4 tablespoons or so...
7 small to medium zucchini, diced
about 2 cups chicken stock. Maria uses Knorr bullion cubes; I use Better Than Bullion. Reconstituted and hot please.
a big handful of fresh basil

Extra virgin olive oil and grated Parmigiano Reggiano for garnish

Heat the olive oil in a stock pot, add the onions and garlic and gently saute  until soft but not brown, then add the zucchini and cook gently until most of the liquid has evaporated. Add enough chicken stock to just cover, and cook for about 15 to 20 minutes.

Put a big handful of fresh basil in the blender, blend with the soup. Return to the stock pot and heat through.

Serve piping hot and topped with a drizzle of really good extra virgin olive oil and a handful of grated Parmigiano Reggiano. No substitutions.

Every time I make this soup I will hear Maria's voice and see her beautiful face. Thank you Maria Franceschini. I love you. And thank you Lisa for sharing your mom.

Hot Time in the Old Town, or All's Well That Ends Well

Stephen (of Stephen Saiz Salon, a magical place of miraculous transformation in San Francisco) was just blowing my hair dry when a loud "Woo-err! Woo-err! Woo-err!" filled the salon.

"What's going on?" Stephen, Dwight and several patrons said in unison, looking at each other and around the salon. "A car alarm?"

"Not on the tenth floor" I said. "I think it's the smoke alarm."

Stephen said to Michelle, his assistant, "Honey, look out in the hall and see what's going on."

Michelle came back very pale. The noise had stopped, but you could see a bright flashing light through the door to the hall. "It smells like smoke out there" she said.  We could hear people coming out of the other salons on the tenth floor, hear their excited chatter as they gathered in the hall.

Stephen nodded, and picked up his blow dryer.

"Stephen" I said, "I think we should get out of here."

He looked at my thoughtfully and felt my still damp hair.

"Are you alright going out not quite dry? It will only take a minute to finish."

I thought about the Titanic and said "I'm fine!" as I leapt from the chair and grabbed my purse and coat. I was heading for the door when Stephen asked Michelle "Have you collected?"

Oops. Not. I threw my credit card at Michelle and pulled the smock off before I even hit the changing booth by grabbing a handful of the front and pulling hard. I yanked my sweater over my head, scribbled my name on the charge, stuffed the credit card in my pocket and ran for the door.

There were so many people streaming down the stairs I had to wait for a break. I slipped in behind a woman still wearing a smock and foil in her hair, and just ahead of a very handsome (and unhappy) hairdresser. We spiraled down ten flights of tiny narrow stairs. A man ahead of us said "You should have been here for the earthquake - we did this in the dark." Sobering thought. Note to self: Put tiny flashlight in purse.

As we went down the last flight of stairs we could hear the fire engines pulling up outside, their sirens  grinding down. "Hurry!" I said. "There's not room for us and the firemen on these stairs." True - they were so narrow some people were going down sideways, like crabs.

We dashed down the last few stairs and slid through the tiny lobby into the cold night air, and almost into the arms of the charging firemen, in full battle gear armed with extinguishers.

I stood in the dusk and watched for Stephen and Dwight. Nothing doing. Finally I called.

"Stephen Saiz" a calm cool voice said.

"Stephen, it's Jill. Firemen are charging up the stairs, there is smoke coming out of the top of the building. Grab your dog, grab your man and get the heck out of there!"

I got an e-mail from Stephen a day later.  "The HOT Firemen said it was a tiny electrical fire on the top floor. No flames (except for the hairdressers!) No fire sale today."