The wonderful cherry harvest was finally drawing to a close, and we had stuffed ourselves with as much of the fruit as possible before the rain the birds got to it. There still clung a few precious bundles of sweet fruit, and after three weeks of nearly daily visits to the cherry grove, I still wasn’t ready to surrender back to nature what remained of the year’s bounty.
After a few too many cherries eaten by the handful, eaten in pies, and in Clafoutis all over the village, there was still one rock left to uncover… Confiture.



