A little box arrived via the US mail at work for me. Inside was a jar of iridescently pale pink jelly, and a smaller jar of incredibly odoriferous dried shrimp for the cat. At home, the cat was delighted, and so was I.
Suffice it to say that Ms Zachos knows her way around the light-handed art of jelly-making. It was perfect: clear; a gentle wobble, holding its form; delicately coloured and tasting just the way a quince smells, which is heavenly.
So I made lamb, at once. Or after a couple of hours. Two shanks, slow-braised with rosemary, carrots, shallots and potato. You might think this a heavy-handed way to celebrate a light jelly, but if you were brought up with roast lamb and roast potatoes and jelly every other Sunday, it would seem perfect.
We ate up the rest this morning, on hot-off-the griddle flapjacks (or English muffins or drop scones; take your pick).
Thank you, Ellen! What a beautiful, ephemeral, delicious and precious gift. All gone now.