Memories of Mom and Home

I know it’s July 4th 2026 but I was just asked for my Brandied Dried Fruit recipe and couldn’t resist posting something now.  I usually make this in September to prepare for holiday baking, but I must admit to using the leftovers long after they are over.  You see I freeze the leftovers and then use it to make my husband’s favorite muffins and oatmeal cookies. 

I have been making this for 70 years or so, (yes, I’m old) and it is a tradition for making my fruit bread and Christmas Stollen.

Growing up on a farm we used the fruits from our orchard and those planted along the hedgerows. Mom would dry them just for this, our house smelled so good as the fruit dried, first strawberries, then cherries (sour and sweet), peaches, plums, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, apples and pears.  In just about that order. All summer the house smelled so sweet. We kids were kept busy picking, sorting, and washing fruit.  (We ate as much as we picked, too.) Mom would add raisins and currents and started adding dried oranges and lemons when I was a teenager.  She never added the pineapple, as that was too expensive and apricots didn’t grow in Ohio. 

Mom had a huge jar with a wide mouth that she saved just for this and started the mixture with the first of the dried strawberries putting a layer in the bottom and adding brandy.  My dad liked brandy and often bought Christian Brothers Brandy so that is what she used. She would add the next layer of dried fruit when it was ready, adding a bit of brandy each time and mixing the fruit up, she just kept doing that all summer. By September she would finger tighten the jar lid and add a bit more brandy every week until she started baking in late October and November.

She made fruit breads and rolls then froze them until Christmas and New Year’s. They were so good.  Whatever was left over she used for baking until it was all gone and then started over in June. Everyone knew when she opened that jar, the sweet smell of brandy and fruit filled the house.  It is one of my favorite childhood memories.

I still make brandied fruit the way she did, but now I purchase dried fruit. I don’t usually start until September but maybe this year I will begin now and enjoy the scents of home this Christmas.

Here is my version of Mom’s recipe. I hope it inspires you to try it and make memories too.

Mom and Ruth’s Brandied Dried Fruit

I start in September for the holidays, but you can do this anytime.

I use only nuts and dried fruit, Do not Use Candied Fruit

Favorite mixture of cherries, cranberries, peaches, apricots, apples, blueberries, strawberries, pineapple, lemon peel and orange peel (I get these at Trader Joes), dates, and pears, figs, plums* (Not prunes), currents, and raisins. 

I use very coarsely chopped pecans, walnuts, and hazelnuts. Chop just so they aren’t whole.

Chop large pieces of fruit into bite sized ones.

Use any combination of fruit you want.

Put them in a large bowl or big glass jar. Pour add about a cup of good brandy (I often use Grand Marnier) toss together well and every week add a bit more. 

Cover bowl with plastic wrap or loosely top with jar lid.

Let it sit on the kitchen counter for as long as you like but let it sit at least a month. Scoop out what you need and recover.

After the holidays I will freeze the fruit in 1 cup bags and use it for baking until I start a new batch in September.  It will continue to ripen in freezer. 

Makes the best oatmeal cookies ever.

*You can buy “Traina Home Grown Jumbo California Sun Dried Angelino Plum Halves ” on Amazon if you don’t want to dry your own, which I have done.

Ruth Jewell, © July 4, 2026

HOME

Ruth 1:16-17

16But Ruth said,
“Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
Where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
and your God my God.
17Where you die, I will die—
there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”

John 14:23
23Jesus answered him, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.

2 Corinthians 5:6-9
6So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord— 7for we walk by faith, not by sight. 8Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him.

Our book group has been reading and discussing Diana Butler Bass’ book, Christianity After Religion, and in Chapter 6 Bass discusses home and identity.  I actually had trouble with this section because I’m not sure what is home for me.  I mean I have a home; I live in a house, with my husband, one dog, 2 parrots and a seminary student so that isn’t the issue.  What is my question is “what does home mean?” 

I grew up in Ohio and moved to a farm when I was 5 years old so for the next 19 years of my life my “home” was this wonderland place chock full of discoveries, and sadness.  When I was 24 I moved from the farm and began a kind of nomadic life.  I moved every couple of years from home to apartment, state to state, city to city, and moving many times within cities.  My latest move was in 2000, when I was married, and moved into the house I am now living.  When I moved into this house I told John, this was my last move and I would be carried out of here feet first because I wasn’t going to pack up all my “stuff” again!  But, given my past history that may be a wish made on sand and someday I will have to, reluctantly, move from this house. 

When we discussed what was home in our book group I realized I was the only one who had no clear sense of home.  In fact I have no sense of a home town, or place of origin at all.  All of the places I have lived are really far in the past and clouded with time. Does that sound strange to you?  It didn’t to me until I began to listen to the stories of home from others.  For instance my husband can identify one spot as his hometown, St. Charles Iowa.  That is where he was born and grew up and despite not living there for 50 some years he still calls it home. 

I can’t do that; there is no one place I would call home.  Heck, there are times when I drive up my own driveway that I have to remind myself this is my “home” and I belong here.  For me where I am is home.  As long as I have my friends, companion critters and now the family I married into I’m home.  I don’t have relatives to speak of.  My parents have passed on; I haven’t seen any of my family of origin in 40 some years.  The family I have is the family I have created around me, a group of individuals, couples, and families I feel strong connections with.  Not one of them is a blood relative and that is fine with me.  Yet I feel closer to this group than I ever did to my blood relations. 

It is not that they all think like I do because they don’t.  In fact, my guess is we have become friends because we think differently.  But they share something with me that my “own family” never did and that is themselves.  If I need a shoulder to cry on I can count on one of them showing up at my door saying, “Ruth, I had a feeling you needed a friend today.”   Even when great distance separates us I can sense when a good friend needs me to call and talk.  The conversation may be nothing important at all but it means something to my friend and me. I can’t say my own family would ever feel that connected to me.

For me home is where I am, right now, in this place, at this time.  It means for me being with God, family, companions, friends, creation in whatever place or time I am in.  If I had to suddenly leave the place I currently shelter in I can do it.  I would grab what is important: my husband, my companion critters, my backpack throw in my bible and a change of clothes (my vanity wouldn’t let me wear the same underwear two days in a row, I’d add soap as well for cleanliness is next to Godliness),and walk out closing the door behind me.  The stuff in the building is just stuff and can be replaced, none of it is important.  As long as I have those that I love (and a change of underwear) I’m good to go.  Were I end up I’d be HOME.

So I guess I am saying I am “home” wherever I am, I don’t need a specific location to call “home” I just need to feel close to what is important and what is important is love and companionship with those who I love and who love me.  God will not abandon me, where I am God is because I experience God in the love I give and receive.  What else is needed?  Someone once said “home is where your heart is” and maybe what that means is my heart is my home, the ultimate shelter, the ultimate place I meet and live with Love.  I am Home.

Ruth Jewell, ©April 12, 2013