Passion play

Bounty from the farm: Two crates of  freshly picked, plump passion fruit

Irresistible insides! 

Passion preserved.

In South Africa we call them granadillas. But I prefer the name passion fruit, like they are also known widely. This name is derived from an analogy drawn centuries ago by Spanish Missionaries to South America between the flower's anatomy and Christ's Crucifixion. They called it Flor de las cinco lagas (flower of the five wounds). Hence the name passion fruit. 

But for me it has more to do with a sensation bordering on bliss when I take a mouthful of fragrant pulp. It is near impossible to describe the taste: a tantalizing tartness combined with something like a flowery perfume fills your mouth and overwhelms your tastebuds before it slips down your throat with a silky coolness. I can never get enough of passion fruit.

So it felt like Christmas when Leon gifted me with two huge crates filled with passion fruit that didn't make the grade for the export market. As their fragrance filled the house, I browsed recipe books and the internet. I had a lot of preserving to do and felt the delicious slight craziness creep over me that I always feel when something so sublimely natural falls into my lap to play with.

I happened upon a recipe that meets all my criteria. Nothing makes me happier than to be able to use most every part of the fruit involved. This very simple jam uses both the juicy insides and the crinkly shells! I adapted it a bit because I found it impossible to buy citric acid anywhere in my vicinity, so I used a whole lot more lemon juice and less water to get the desired tartness. 

The result is spectacular! It feels like some sort of alchemy, changing the sunny pulp and dull shells into a glowing, ruby red jelly. If only I could capture the fragrance that permeated the house while the shells were gently simmering!

Passion fruit jam

12 Passion fruit
300ml lemon juice (preferably freshly squeezed)
1,2 litres water
1,8kg sugar

Method

• Cut the passion fruit in half, scoop out the pulp and put aside. Place the shells in the water to cover.
• Add the lemon juice to the saucepan.
• Bring to the boil and simmer on low with a tightly fitted lid for one and a half hours.
• Remove from heat, take shells out of the liquid, let cool slightly and then scoop out the fleshy pith which will have swollen to twice the size and be a deep purplish red. 
• Chop the pith finely and return to the liquid. Discard the outer skins.
• Bring the contents of the saucepan to a brisk boil and then add the sugar and pulp. (If the pips bother you, separate the juice from the pips by pressing it through a sieve with a wooden spoon. This takes some doing, so I suggest you do it while the initial simmering of the shells are under way.) 
• Bring the contents back to a rolling boil and start checking for setting point after fifteen minutes or so. I use sugar thermometer which greatly reduces the risk of failure for me. 104 degrees Celsius is the setting point for jams and jellies.
• Once setting point is reached, let it cool a little, remove any scum that might have formed (half a teaspoon of butter added to the last boiling greatly inhibits scum forming) and stir gently to distribute fruit evenly.
• Pour into sterilised jars and seal immediately.
• Leave to cool. Label and date.

 Makes 8 jars of 250 ml each. The recipe can easily be halved.

I've frozen most of the pulp and plan to transform it into fruit curd, sorbet, lemonade and cake topping. In this house I will not run out of passion any time soon!

Matilda