Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the village had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. – Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist

I really did not think that I would be making strawberry jam this early in the season. Strawberries had just begun making their appearance at the market, large, plump, lipstick red strawberries, and I usually follow the popular reasoning that early fruit, the first fruit, no matter how lovely, no matter the heady fragrance, is flavorless, hot house fruit that is costly and uninteresting. So I avoid it. I stopped by to see Christophe, my fruit guy (he is in my phone contact list as my fruit guy), as I always do each Thursday after picking up my fresh goat cheese for the hotel breakfast, to purchase oranges and avocados for eating, and, as I did last week, bananas that I had ordered to make another batch of jam.

“If you ever have crates of strawberries for jam at a good price, please let me know,” I told him. “Oh, I never will be able to get you good berries at a good price but check with my neighbor (pointing to another stall), she’s a local producer.” I sidled up to her stand which was covered with pint boxes of strawberries (three different varieties, none of which I dared judge) and told her what I was looking for. She pointed at a large crate sitting on the ground half pushed under her table. “Fraises pour confiture” it read, “strawberries for jam”. “3 kilos pour 10€”

And so, after having lugged my crate of bananas to the hotel, I scuttled back to the market to pick up three crates of strawberries. And spent an hour shoulder to shoulder with one of my receptionists cutting off the stems of 9 kilos of strawberries.

Three large plastic buckets, elbow to elbow, spent the night on one end of my kitchen table, fruit macerating for jam: banana mango, strawberry vanilla, and strawberry banana (as I hefted my crate of bananas off of Christophe’s stand, he tossed in a couple of extra bunches, maybe too ripe to sell. “A gift!” he shouted after me as I hobbled away.)

What little time and energy I have to cook or bake has been going into making jams for the hotel, jams I serve at breakfast every morning. Arriving in the middle of winter, of course I began with bitter and sweet orange marmalades and all of the variations I could squeeze in. As we slide slowly out of the bleak days of winter and into the subtle softness of spring, I walk home from the Thursday morning market laden down with crates of ripe bananas with which I made jars upon jars of banana rum raisin, banana vanilla ginger, and banana mango.

And now, with the summer sun splashing down into the hotel courtyard, the garden bursting with roses abloom (in strawberry milkshake pinks!), and strawberries appearing bright and sassy every Thursday, I shift gears and enter a new phase, a new season of jam making.

Strawberry with Elderberry Flowers, Strawberry with Acacia Flowers, Strawberry Vanilla (Fraise Bonbon), Strawberry Banana, Strawberry Jelly. Suggestions?

But strawberries are not only for jam, even as I am tied to my copper jam basin by my apron string. My friend Marge Perry of A Sweet and Savory Life recently shared a photo and a recipe for a luscious Strawberry Cheesecake Tart that has stirred up memories of my own favorite strawberry tart. And so I will share it with you once again, another recipe redux too good to be left behind (at the risk of being forgotten amid the dust) on the old blog.

This is one simple and sensational tart, redolent of summer and kissed with both the sweetness of fresh strawberries and the indulgence of chocolate. A blissful dessert of ethereal, luxurious whipped mascarpone cream atop a thin layer of chocolate – in using Lindt Mint Chocolate I added a delicate hint of mint – all topped with luscious, seasonal berries. Pretty, light and sweet, a truly exquisite treat for the halcyon days of summer.