One or two of you may have noticed my seemingly obsessive referrals to all things olfactory; evocative smells are key in my childhood memories. Not least the smell of blackcurrant jam; the first smell of blackcurrant jam when that lid is 'popped' off a brand new jar. To be precise; the jam that sat on the breakfast table at Grandad's in Arnside. "Tiptree Blackcurrant Jam" on crusty white bread! I loved that jam so much; I even forgave the narky pips that would frequently wedge them selves between a tooth or too.
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| Blackcurrant Jam |
It was around Arnside and surrounding areas that I would have first picked and eaten the freshly foraged delights from the local lanes; blackberries mainly and once wild raspberries. I remember picking the soft fruits, bursting their vivid staining juice over my fingers, before popping the newly picked fruit into my mouth. Possibly a tad tart and often that jammy sweetness, but always a single thrill that I'd picked it first and tasted it first!! Now to gather enough fruit without damaging it in the bag provided for such gathering.Oddly, despite getting scratched by the brambles; defending their fruity treasures, I loved picking blackberries and still do. I think that they would have been made into a crumble, if sufficient or merely enjoyed with ice cream, 'if' they made it back that far without been eaten on the way home!
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