Ms. Mel and the plum tree - Anne Boulton

I’ve decided that I’ve got to grow a fruit tree. It’s inexcusable really. I mean, come mid-August, I’m hanging out under the bowers of neighbouring trees, hoping for offers to collect fallen fruit.

My friend, Ms. Mel, grows a mighty plum on that tree of hers. I covet that tree. From it grow the tastiest purple treasures — sweet, tender and juicy, without a hint of acridity.

Every year she makes a peerless torte — it is unsurpassed in its simplicity and unparalleled in the richness of flavour. Even now, words fail me. Utterly.

I’ve just finished up the last of last year’s plum jam she shared with her friends.

She laughs at me that I should still have any left, but, like a true coveter, I hide the plum jam at the back of the fridge and hoist two or three decoys towards the front: the generic raspberry from Smuckers, my ho-hum strawberry condiment that hardly set worth a damn, and a gelatinous mess of orange peels and pectin made mainly as a marinade booster.

Every day or two, I walk past her house and make note of the yield. “Not bad, not bad,” I think to myself. I have to walk away quickly, lest my Dionysian side get the best of me and I pluck a handful to munch. “A good pie or two, for sure, and possibly some jam to pass around.”

But how can I ingratiate myself to her that she would bestow on me, her covetous neighbour, a jar of the ruby goodness? An offer to pull weeds, perhaps.

I would offer to help pit the fruit, but she might note in my eye something animalistic and know what I’m after. It’s downright shameful.

Ms. Mel is no hack in the kitchen; she cut her gums cooking for secular pilgrims in the Iona Community in the UK. The building proper is a medieval Benedictine Abbey that has been restored and offers visitors the opportunity to reflect on their journeys and to gain strength with nourishing food and rest.

Never having cooked before her stint there, Ms. Mel said her learning curve was steep as she produced three meals a day for hundreds of visitors, waking before dawn to knead bread and cut vegetables.

A decade later, and I’m standing outside her door, willing to trade some of my humourous witticisms for some pie. “Please, sir! Some more!”

Here’s the recipe, in case you’ve got a plum tree or know a benevolent neighbour who might humour you with a slice.

Ms. Mel’s Plum Torte
Adapted from Simply in Season, by Mary Beth Lindand Cathleen Hockman-Wert)

Shortbread crust:
1 cup of flour
1/3 cup butter
2 tbs powdered sugar

Preparation Instructions

Mix together until crumbly, press into pie plate and bake at 425 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 to 12 minutes.
Fill the crust with plum halves, arranged artfully in overlapping circles fitting in as many plums as possible.
Mix 3/4 cups of sugar and 2 tsp cinnamon and sprinkle over plums.

Bake again at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 45 minutes.
Cool and serve with a healthy dollop of whipped cream.

Anne Boulton is an avid gardener who lives in Sudbury. Visit her blog at greenboots.ca or contact her at [email protected].