I asked her if she trusted me. She said "Yes."
I directed her to close her eyes and to open her mouth.
She danced around some but then finally, reluctantly did it.
I put a spoonful of newly made, Concord grape jam in her mouth.
Her face fell. "Oh, dad. I am so disappointed. I thought you were going to give me the keys to a new car."
Then my face fell.
"Gotcha!" She knew I did not have that kind of money and the house reeked of Concord grapes.
My daughter is a wise-elbow.
|Cleaned berries in apple cider.|
|Run through a sieve, add pectin and sugar. We got eleven pints.|
I have been trying to kill this Concord grape vine for about a decade. It is in a row with French-American hybrid wine grapes. It squats like a washerwoman among runway models amidst the Lucy Kuhlman, Marechel Foch, and Castel vines.
And then I learned that Belladonna adores Concord grape jelly. Now I may have to start taking care of this vine.
At least Bella is set for the next year for grape jam.