If you happen to have a plum tree in your yard, I will let you know that I’m extremely envious. I dream of having a plum tree. Or a fig tree. Or both! But since I find myself right now in this tropical state, the only thing I can brag about is my mango, kumquat, and my papaya trees!
Actually, the papaya trees are no longer with us. But there was a period of time when my dad would come over and plant us papaya trees. I had a few in the front.
The last few years before he died, he would drive over to visit us most Sundays and bring us a plant and some fruits and fresh herbs from his garden. If I would go to his house to get them, he would be less likely to put it together for me.
So on any given Sunday mornings, the kids would get so excited when they would hear nonno’s car pulling up and run outside to greet him. If he wasn’t feeling so sick, he would take the kids with him out front to start digging and would be so proud of his little plant creation.
One of the papaya trees he planted with the kids grew even taller than our house with papayas that weighed over 5 lbs each. The fruits were massive, and it was not easy to get them off when they were ripe because they were on the highest point of the tree. Sometimes we would miss a ripe one and when it would fall and hit the ground, it was just one big mess.
After my dad died 10 years ago, we were enjoying his papayas for years. When I was growing up, it was not really my favorite fruit. I really don’t even recall ever eating papaya at home. It’s just that dad could grow literally any thing from a seed. And when we would visit him at his house, he always had some sort of fruit or vegetable growing.
I wish I had taken the time to learn his gardening secrets. Since he literally grew up on their family farm in Sicily, he had the greenest of green thumbs. It was in his Sicilian genes. My nonna and all of her sisters would take him out on their hips to check how their bounty was growing.
When I say bounty, I mean acres of produces. And as soon as dad started to walk, he was taught how to help out with their family business.
As the second oldest brother, my dad had many responsibilities. With 4 younger sisters, he was the third man in command of the house. My zio Vincenzo was the second in command, after my nonno. But what I learned as I got older, was that my zio was actually the one that dictated all of the families happenings.
From who did what work on the farms, to which men were appropriate for one of my zia’s to marry. Every decision went first by him for approval; my nonno Giuseppe’s authority figure was usurped by his eldest son.
Don’t ask me exactly when it happened. I’m sure if I asked, one of my aunt’s would tell me the exact day, month, and year. Since I was a young girl growing up in Sicily, my memories are filled with images of my uncle Vincenzo taking charge.
He was a formidable figure, someone who commanded respect and admiration. One day I’ll share more family stories, but this does lead me onto why you’re really here.
Over on the blog, this has been the top post for the past couple months! If you’re a novice jam maker, this is a really good recipe to start out with. The plums are delicious just as they are, but when you cook them down with the sugar and lemon juice, something magical happens.
The jam is absolutely delicious spread on toast, used in a cake, served with homemade waffles, or just enjoyed right out of the jar with a spoon!
My dear readers, please let me know if you have your own plum tree and you could even email me a photo of it. I can’t deny that I may shed a tear when I see a photo of your tree or your plums.
You’re receiving this email as a subscriber to our free newsletter. Mille grazie! Thank you for joining Gabby and I on this journey. If you have a friend, family member, or anyone you think would enjoy it, we are grateful if you pass it along. 💛
-Lora