Sunday, July 3, 2011

Not for sale

In 2006, I made over a hundred jars of jam. In case you're wondering, I don't have a particularly good memory, it's just that there are still a good lot of them left, as we plug away at the larder shelves. It was a year that the plums and apples were good, and so were the raspberries, and blackberries, and Mirabelles, and blueberries and currants, not to mention apricots and peaches. It was also the year that I learned how to make chocolate jam, and, perhaps out of boredom, started getting fancier, adding herbs and wine to various fruit combinations.

It was also the year that three of the family tested sensitive to wheat and gluten, meaning vehicles for said jam like bread and croissants were off the menu. So just as jam production increased, jam consumption plummeted. In economic terms, we had a surplus. I set about seeing how I might make lemonade out of the situation.

My first thought was to sell the extra jam ,which would fetch a fair price if the signs at the farmer's market were any indication. A quick look at the relevant regulations revealed that because my kitchen at home is a residential kitchen, as opposed to a commercial kitchen, it was illegal to sell my jam. The same applied to donating it to food banks. Nope, it was our jam, and we were stuck (sorry!) with it. Luckily, jam keeps.

A few jars went to friends, a basket of the more fancy combinations fetched a fair price at the school auction. Jars got tucked into teacher appreciation bags and brought as hostess gifts. We learned that jam was good in oatmeal; indeed, we started referring to jam as the duct tape of failed meals. But still, there was too much jam. And did I mention I kept making more jam each year? We have an over-achieving plum tree, and well, blackberries are free! And I do find it hard to pass up delicious, overripe fruit.

And then came the year in Ireland, where every farmer's market and farm stand had a few of these "extra" jars, with hand-made labels. We had seen the same thing on jaunts to Britain. I taught our farmer how to make jam, bringing home just one jar of amazing raspberry jam and leaving the other 50 with her to sell at her farm stand. But the idea of cottage industry had been drummed out of us in the States, replaced instead by the misconception that only commercial operations can produce safe foods.

So imagine my delight last night when Junior Firefighter showed me a column filler that mentioned that our Governor had just signed a "Cottage Food Operations" law, that expressly allows for selling homemade food products, including baked goods, jams and jellies, preserves and fruit butters, defining them as "nonpotentially hazardous." Maybe my home kitchen isn't so dangerous after all.

So I look into the rule, and here's where it falls apart. It does not mean that on July 22 (the date the law takes effect), that I can put a quaint handmade sign at the curb offering up some of my surplus for pin money. Nope, I'd need about a hundred dollars out of pocket for a yearly permit, plus I'd have to invest in jars and labels, so I'd have to be pretty serious about selling more than the odd jar to cover my outlay. Add to that inspection requirements and limitations on outlets (no internet or mail order) and earnings limits (less than $12,000/yr.), and it's clear that this law is intended for a very small group of people indeed.

So, even as the fresh fruit verily beckons to me in the farmer's market, there will be no sign in my front yard for the foreseeable future. Sorry, folks.