The plum crop is in, and, though less bountiful than last year’s bumper crop, it is still ridiculously large. Like last year, there is simply too much to eat fresh before it spoiled, so I set about making plum jelly in order to preserve as much of it as I could.

I got as far as my second gallon when I was about to run out of pectin. I was on the verge of buying more when I realized the madness had to end. I still have at least a couple of gallons from last year’s crop; what the hell was I doing making more? But if I wasn’t making jelly, what in Rodale’s name was I going to do with all these plums?

Foist them off on my colleagues, that’s what. Come on down and grab some fresh apricots and plums, guys; they’re sitting on my desk. If you do not take some fruit I will find you and give it to you, by force, if necessary. You will eat this fruit. You will eat it because you want it. Because it’s goddamned delicious. Seriously, they’re fantastic. Eat these fucking plums. Right now.