Making jam brings back fond memories. Not only is there nothing like a dollop of this homemade treat on biscuits, waffles, or slathered between peanut butter and bread — the nostalgia that comes with it is even sweeter for me.
My grandma used to round us all up for annual freezer jam making. We’d pick the berries, often raspberries, and be in the kitchen for hours. Occasionally, I’d get a swift lick off my finger without anyone seeing. There was always so much laughter, and there was always a sticky mess that didn’t seem to bother anyone.
My mom would also recruit my sister and I to jam making after my grandma had stopped, and now my girls are starting.
Although my grandma is gone, the memories of her — and her strict jam criterion — sure come alive when we are all in the kitchen together. The laughter still fills the room, and I caught a tiny, blonde head on the other side of the counter stealing sugar licks.
What a sweet tradition. It’s just a bonus to fill the freezer with a year supply of jam.