He scribbles down this information in a scrawling handwriting that probably only he can read. It only vaguely resembles English, and might be some kind of bizarre shorthand that he's adopted for the sake of note-taking quickly -- and having notes that nobody else can read. It's not like any of this is secret, but his handwriting has never been great, and if anyone looked at his notebook, they'd probably think the instructions for making preserves were something far more interesting than they were, with how damn hard he's made them to read.

Following Ned's instructions, he goes to the pantry and pulls out the jars for Ned, returning them to him. "Here you go," he replies, trying not to stand too close, but unable to resist the urge to scoot a little closer so that he can look into the pan as Ned begins to stir. "You could probably trade this for something good -- I doubt most people're making their own preserves around here."

Trust Meyer to find ways to look for the profitability in everything. If they'd been somewhere that had a valid currency system, he'd have suggested that Ned sell it, probably for exorbitant sums.