I have made jam probably a total of 6
times. Although no one formally taught
me, growing up, I remember receiving homemade jam from my grandma and my
Aunt Sandra. When I went berry-picking
one summer I lived in Seattle, I had more raspberries than I knew what to do
with. The idea of making jam surfaced,
but after some initial research, I realized I was not prepared to actually can
jam, and settled for freezer jam instead.
But I vowed that it was a skill I would one day acquire. Not long after, I saw a Groupon deal for a home
canning class, and before I knew it, I was sitting in a class with mostly women
2-3 times my age, learning the basics of canning. I loved it.
I took notes, careful to remember all the tips the instructor offered,
as she effortlessly prepared jam in the front of the room. After class, I immediately went to the store
and bought the basics – a large pot, some mason jars, a funnel that perfectly
fits on top of the jar, and a “jar grabber” to pull the jars out of the boiling
water.
So one night during my senior year of
college, I was desperate to do anything that wasn’t studying or writing care
plans. Most would probably go out for
the evening, making plans with friends.
I decided I was going to make jam.
And in our tiny apartment kitchen, I did. It was not a seamless, effortless process. I was unorganized and inefficient. But I made jam. By myself.
And the moment I heard that first jar properly seal with a little “pop” –
the time consuming, tedious process in the hot, tiny kitchen was all worth it.
Fast forward to this past month. I knew I would be moving. I knew I would be leaving work. And I knew I had quite a bit of frozen fruit,
just ready to be made into a delicious batch of jam, waiting in my
freezer. I decided I would make jam as a
gift to my night shift co-workers, a way to say goodbye and I love you and here’s
something to remember me by. I knew it
would be another one of my projects, and require time and energy I really did
not have a lot of, but that did not deter me.
I would make jam.
Outside of work, I am known as being
the nurse. At work, we are all nurses, so we have to distinguish each other by other characteristics. In addition to being the girl who goes to Africa, I am known for baking things, not
using my AC, drinking a lot of coffee, and making jam. Writing that makes me smile. Growing up, I always felt I did not have any
noteworthy talents or abilities – at least nothing that could be showcased in a
talent show. I did not sing, dance, or
act – and my athletic abilities were mediocre at best. I wish I could tell 12-year-old Alyssa not to worry, that our passions and gifts and things that fill us with joy are
not limited to performances or sporting events.
The world needs dancers and actors and athletes and leaders and
intellectuals – but they also need care-givers, travelers, risk-takers, and
jam-makers.
Making jam takes commitment. It requires a fair amount of planning and
preparation. Each time I make it, I
become a little more efficient, and slightly more confident. The process is a sensitive one – each step
building on the success of the previous one.
There is a lot of waiting – for things to boil, for things to cool off,
for the timer to go off, but it is absolutely worth the wait. Being a part of the entire process, from
start to finish is incredibly rewarding.
Looking at the finished product sitting on the counter is the best high. I made
that. I created something that will be
enjoyed both now, but also for months to come.
I partook in an activity that people
have been doing for years and years. Canning used to be a necessity, a way to ensure food during the winters, to bottle up the best of the harvest to be enjoyed throughout the year. Sure, we can now just run to the grocery
store and choose from dozens of products on the shelf. For just a few dollars, you can save yourself
a ton of time and energy and often even money.
But in my opinion, you miss out on a beautiful, creative experience. The chance to make something, the end product
nothing less than a work of art in my mind.
And so, I made 35 jars of jam this past
week – strawberry, strawberry nectarine, and strawberry apricot. I kept one jar for myself; the rest will be
distributed to my fellow night-shifters.
A small token of my appreciation for their support, guidance,
reassurance, and companionship the past few years. I cannot think of a more jam-worthy
bunch.
So why do I make jam? To create.
To invest time and resources into a process that ends with a delicious
treat to enjoy and to share with the people I love. Homemade jam does not say I picked up this generic gift last minute
out of obligation. It screams I put my heart and soul and sweat and the
better half of my morning into this precious jar – guard it! Savor it!
Enjoy it! I made this for you
because I specifically thought about you and how you would enjoy this. You matter!
You are worth it!
