First Week of School

I cracked open my first jar of Bonne Maman peach preserves this afternoon. I wonder what took me so long to give this stuff a try. Rows and rows of these have been staring me down in the grocery aisles for decades and it's not as if American supermarkets are filled with great jams/spreads/jellies to begin with.

What makes this French jar of fruit and pectin so good? I don't know. Maybe it's because it's not too sweet (I'm talking to you, Smuckers and Welch's!), not tasteless, those little bits of actual fruit, or the fact that it does not gel up or get hard after you take it out of the fridge. It's just really good. I'm not fussy about jams; good is good. So do American jams have any hope?

Actually, yes. American jams are pretty decent. I had originally gone back to the store to re-purchase a jar of Made-in-USA "peach butter", which is formulated to perfection. Then I made a beeline for the homely-looking Bonne Maman. But do try Braswell's of Georgia. Tell them I sent you. Bonne Maman vs Braswell's? It's a tie.

The first week of graduate school just ended. It didn't really occur to me that I was a grad student until after Wednesday's class. If there was one thing that was nudging me to stop mucking around, it was definitely my classmates. They were all so ... serious ... and this is beyond the fact that they weren't very much older or younger than I am. Everyone behaved as if they had enlisted in the army. It felt like I was sitting in a room full of Type As. In fact, we had three bankers in there pitching their wares. Welcome to grad school.

Fortunately, I'm looking forward to a productive semester. My professor appears to be one with a big personality and wisdom to offer. I assume his national and European awards aren't for nothing.