Nova Weetman makes cumquat jam every year, a tradition inherited from her mother, and now her balcony tree yields enough for six jars, connecting her family to cherished memories.
A yearly ritual
Weetman waits each year for her cumquat tree to fruit, then makes her mother's jam. The tradition began when her mother would scavenge cumquats from friends' gardens and spend nearly two days chopping, deseeding, soaking, boiling, and jarring the fruit. When her mother died 15 years ago, winter came and went without the usual jars, and other jams lacked the taste of memory.
Friends bought Weetman a baby cumquat tree in a large yellow ceramic pot after witnessing her grief. The first year it flowered, her children helped strip the tree, and although the batch was overcooked and too dark, the taste took her back to her childhood home.
The perfect batch
The following year, Weetman channeled her mother's patience and made two large jars of perfect amber-coloured jam. This year, she managed six jars, enough to give one to a friend and another to her daughter, who also took half a loaf of sourdough bread to replicate her childhood breakfast.
Weetman and her son are now down to their last jar, rationing it to make it last. She sometimes buys cumquat jam at markets, but it never tastes quite the same. The tree, still in the same yellow pot, has moved house twice, and now grows on their apartment balcony, bringing with it the promise of her childhood taste.
