These are the first days of summer, and the strawberries are starting to ripen, and that means it's jam time. Of course, you can't make jam and not have fresh bread come to the party, so I took care of that little problem too. I think the bread and jam thing is something that has carried over from my mom. I still remember spending summer days playing outside and coming home to a kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh bread and strawberries. I was a little more svelte back then and could put away about three buns and jam with a cold glass of milk. If I tried that now, I'd have quite a collection of increasingly larger big boy pants.
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