This dish is always reminiscent, to me, of low New England farmhouses,
with green blinds. You know the kind—set far back from the road, among
tall trees, with hollyhocks, and rose geraniums and old fashioned pinks
in the garden. When I see such a house—and I can, sometimes, by closing
my eyes—I can always smell the pungent scent of spiced grapes, cooking
away on an immaculate kitchen range.
This is the rule for making spiced grapes. A rule that most New England
families seem to follow.
To seven pounds of grapes there should be added these materials—three
pounds of granulated sugar, one cup of vinegar, two tablespoonsful of
ground cinnamon, and one tablespoonful of ground cloves.
Weigh the grapes, wash and pulp them. Cook the pulp until the seeds are
loosened—then press the mass through a sieve. Cook the skins just as
long as you cook the pulps. Put them on the same stove, but in separate
kettles. Add the strained pulps to the skins, then vinegar, sugar, and
spices. And cook until the mixture thickens.
This, when served with cold meat, changes a commonplace supper of
left-overs into a feast.