There were a few food trade-offs I was prepared to make when I moved to Portland. Peaches. Apricots. Okra. Sweet Potatoes. Basically, foods that thrive in extended heat, the kind of heat I assumed Portland only experienced every 40 years. While there's a firm link in my mind between summer and that first juicy bite of a ripe peach, I anticipated making new summer food memories when I moved. And, in a way, I have. Now, summer means berry picking, berry freezing, berry jamming, berry baking, and berry snacking. What I didn't expect was that summer in Portland can still mean peaches and apricots.

Last summer, we ate peaches nearly every weekend, alternating between Baird Family Orchards ("dedicated to growing the very sweetest and juiciest peaches the beautiful Pacific Northwest has to offer") and Maryhill Orchards. This year, thanks to an earlier-than-normal extended heat wave, Maryhill's stand at the PSU Market was heaped with peaches, apricots, and cherries before I even flipped my calendar to July.

I bought several apricots a few weekends ago as a picnic snack, drawn in by their perfect oval shape, unbruised skin, and the fact that there were large clumps of tourists with cameras blocking the peach bins. I've always pushed apricots aside when peaches are for sale: I've had enough bad apricots that I frequently think "dry and bland" when I see an apricot and reach for something else. That connotation is now defunct. Maryhill's apricots are neither dry nor bland; instead, they're perfumey and structured: the juice may not drizzle all over my clothes or counter when I take a bite, but it's there. I was barely done eating my snacking apricots before I had visions of turning more of these apricots into a jam I could enjoy this winter.

Two weekends ago, after staying up late making blueberry jam, I woke up the next morning to two bowls of halved and pitted apricots that I had macerated in sugar over night. The sugar had drawn out so much of the fruits' juices that each bowl was nearly overflowing. Per Rachel Saunders' instructions, I transferred one bowl directly into the preserving pan before slowly ladling the other bowl into a food mill to break up the apricots. After nearly 45 minutes of foaming and simmering, the apricots and their skins finally yielded to the heat, breaking down into a thick jam that captures the essence of an apricot in one spoonful. And just like that, I created another summer food association – one that I can remember even when I exchange 90 degrees and sun for 50 degrees and overcast.