Possum Grape Jelly

     Wild grape vines are one of the things that influences the character of our woods and creeks. The thigh-thick twists of flaking vines doing aerial somersaults 100 feet in the air, a bridge for critters, a swing for the daring. They knot around trees and fling themselves trapeze style to the next, how they do this my Pop and I have often pondered. When you look down the creek and see the giant trees draped in vines, it could be a picture of the Amazon if you didn't know better. Some of the intricate curly-ques are as elaborate and awe-inspiring as a massive handlebar mustache. And then they make fruit. These are not the large wild Muscadine type of grapes that grow in the warmer regions. These are tiny, beady clusters that generally announce their first ripeness by the amount of seedy scat that is found. Every critter around gluts themselves with the grapes and then suffers the consequences. Possums really love the little black berries, and so I guess that is how they came by their folk name.

    I remember being tiny and tasting possum grapes in the woods when my Pop would hold me up to pick a cluster far above my head. If we found any near enough the earth to pick we would gather them so Moma could make Spiced Possum Grape Jelly. It was such a rare treat and one that smelled like heaven when it was boiling away- juice, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and sugar. A very different kind of jelly.
     I made it once when they boys were small, having found a perfect low-hanging vine. But then came the curse of the Japanese Beetles. The first year they appeared was bad. Everyone was scurrying to figure out what the new pest was, and how to deal with it. Then the second year came and the beetles were truly a plague worthy of ancient Egypt. The insects were so thick that they ate 6 foot roses down to weeping stumps several inches tall. They ate the leaves off of all the fruit trees, and burrowed into any fruits. Then they went to the woods and creeks. I couldn't believe how terrible and apocalyptic feeling it was to see entire woods of mature trees completely stripped of their leaves by July. And it turns out wild grapes are their favorite, even over roses.Through time their number has gotten steadily more bearable; this season there were very few beetles to be found. And so we had wild possum grapes for the picking.

     I was so ecstatic to find that a big grape vine had managed to twine up and into one of my wild plum trees in the field. Two for one! And they both bear at the same time, so it was a vibrant combination of rose colored plums and dusky black grapes.

    There was a youngest son taking the below picture and watching in case I fell and splattered like a fruit. Using a 15 foot ladder and sheer willpower (I don't like heights),  I picked an entire bushel basket of grapes.

   That yielded just 3 cups of juice. Yep, let the weeping commence. A lot of work for a little juice, but the taste is so worth it.
    Here's the recipe-

Spiced Wild Possum Grape Jelly
3 cups juice
1 1/2 sticks of cinnamon
1 heaping teaspoon whole cloves
Low simmer the juice and spices for about 30 minutes and let cool to room temp. Do not boil or you will lose juice and you don't want that. Strain out the spices and put juice in a deep pot. Add a pack of Sure-Jell and 1 tsp. butter, as in other recipes. Bring to boil and add 3 cups sugar. Bring back to rolling boil, boil 1 minute. Can in your preferred method.

    You really do need whole spices here, you want to be able to strain them out after they infuse and you can't do that with ground spice. If you are lucky enough to get more juice- the jelly needs a ratio of equal amounts juice and sugar.
     I can't describe how this tastes. With wild fruits there is little to compare them to, unless you have tasted them before. The spices are a very subtle background flavor that does not overpower the grapes at all. The jelly is near black, delicate, and not overly-sweet. A great mixture of full-bodied flavor with a lingering tartness on the tongue. I love it!!!!

"...My brother did the climbing, and at first

Threw me down grapes to miss and scatter

And have to hunt for in sweet fern and hardhack;

Which gave him some time to himself to eat,

But not so much, perhaps, as a boy needed..."

Wild Grapes by Robert Frost