Freckled apricot jam

Vanilla apricot jam: I'm freckled. Can you tell?

A good apricot is velvety and sun-kissed on the outside, fleshy on the inside and bursting with tangy syrup. There's a reason it's called apricot nectar, and not juice.

It turns out that apricots were made for jam. Who knew? I wasn't convinced of this before (cranky jelly has always been my no. 1, for the record), but this vanilla twist on the classic flavour has me singing a new tune.

Not surprisingly, I wasn't the only with the bright idea to put a vanilla bean in her apricot jam. Jeannette of Everybody Likes Sandwiches was a summer ahead of me. The recipe she uses calls for equal parts apricots and sugar by volume, instead of weight as below. Since I lack all but the kitchen basics at the moment, measuring cups included, I can't tell you how the two methods stack up (quick, someone do an infographic). What I do know is: it's jam, it's sweet, you'll probably like it.

Vanilla Apricot Jam
Apricots, halved, stone removed
White sugar
Vanilla bean

Wash, dry and halve the apricots, discarding the stones as you go. Leave the skins on!

Weigh the prepared fruit in a large saucepan, and add an equal weight of sugar. To that, add just enough water to moisten the sugar (I used approximately 1 cup of water for 1 kilogram of apricots/sugar).

Score your vanilla bean lengthwise. Scrape out as many of the seeds as possible directly into the saucepan, then toss the empty pod in too.

Heat the saucepan over low-medium heat until the sugar melts, then increase the heat to medium/medium-high. Bring the mixture to a boil, spooning foam off the surface as it accumulates. Turn the heat down, but maintain a simmer. Stir periodically while the mixture burbles for 35-45 minutes (I went for the full 45 minutes).

How you'll know you're done: the apricot halves will start disintegrating and the mixture will coat the back of a spoon.

Remove the saucepan from the heat. Fish out and discard the vanilla bean pod, admiring the vanilla polka dots in your jam as you do.

At this point, you can either go ahead with your usual canning process, or simply let the mixture cool to room temperature, ladle it into jars and enjoy it over the next few weeks. If you like a chunky jam, leave the mixture as is; if you prefer a smoother texture, whiz it briefly in a food processor. You'll lose a bit of clarity, but gain consistency.

On fire

Some people shy away from the kitchen in the summer, but I've never lived anywhere hot enough for that to be necessary. Paris is typically a few notches steamier than Vancouver this time of year, but we live in an old stone(?) building with a good cross-breeze. It's more the prospect of toaster-oven cuisine—not to mention the superior pastry options on every corner—that has kept my cake baking to a minimum.

Not one to avoid the kitchen, I've been dabbling in stovetop creations. Pickled things mostly, although yesterday I made some dead-easy vanilla apricot jam with killer flavour. Back to the savoury side for a moment though. Don't let fear of canning keep you from salt-induced bliss. Instead of squirreling your pickles away for colder days, just halve the batch or share them with friends.

Now, let's get pickling:

• Pickled Peppers with Shallots and Thyme
• Pickled-Chile Relish
• Ginger-Pickled Carrots (not pictured)

p.s. In case you were wondering, that's not some kind of fancy distressed paintwork going on up there on that chair. It's the natural kind that happens when someone leaves their non-weatherproofed chair on the rooftop for a few days too many. It was like that when we got here, and I must confess that I kind of like it. A pristine white patio chair could be stressful—exactly the opposite of what summer's meant to be.