The sink is pink. The stove is, too.
The countertops are splashed with goo.
Little seeds are everywhere
And pulp is spattered in my hair.
Okay, Dr. Seuss would have said it much better. Still, had he seen my kitchen last night, I think he might have been inspired. Martha Stewart, probably not so much.
One of the things I like about making chokecherry jelly is the color. The berries themselves, when fully ripe, are a deep red that is almost black. Jelly-filled jars lined up on the counter glow in the sunlight like rubies. And the juice, while it's being cooked, is a lovely, rich magenta.
It's a good thing I appreciate all that color, because the process of cooking chokecherries and squishing them to separate out the seeds certainly splashes a lot of it all over the kitchen. Besides magenta-saturated kettles, measuring cups, and spatulas, I had magenta drops on the counters. Magenta drips on the floor. Magenta spills in the sink. Magenta spatters on the window. Magenta streaks across my apron (at least I was smart enough to wear one). And, as I discovered when I cleaned up, magenta freckles on my cheeks and several blobs of magenta pulp in my hair.
Not to mention magenta-stained seeds strewn across a 15-foot radius of my work area. As I cranked the handle on the ricer to strain out the juice and pulp, seeds would periodically leap up like out-of-control popcorn kernels and make their escape. I found them at the far end of the kitchen, behind the fruit bowl on the counter I wasn't using, and under the dining room table in the next room.
If she ever makes chokecherry jelly, somehow I doubt that Martha Stewart has to pick up seeds from under her table or comb bits of pulp out of her bangs. But then, she probably wouldn't write rhymes about the process, either.
Maybe that's why I think Dr. Seuss is more fun than Mrs. Stewart.