A Jam Session in Oma’s Kitchen: Fruit Preserve Recipes from the Garden
You know those moments when you’re standing with dirt covered feet in the garden, stinging with burning nettles, holding a colander of stachelbeeren and thinking, Wow, this is exactly how I imagined my European summer…?
No? Just me?
Anyway.
It’s been nearly 9 months already living here in Winnen. My mother just left after a 3 week visit from the U.S. With renovations underway upstairs and efforts to improve what I’d like to call “a concept of a plan” to landscape, I finally have a moment to revisit the garden.
I love to garden. I do. But you wouldn’t know it by the sight of the overgrown weeds and dying seedlings from the bipolar weather patters and borderline abuse.
First too wet, then too hot, then nothing at all. Let’s not even talk about how the barn cats are now using our raised beds as their new favorite litter box. Imagine a graveyard of violently kicked up red onions now scattered across the lawn, kindly replaced with land mines of cat shit.
I knew our first year in this garden would be an experiment. It went from completely unused and lacking any evidence of nutrients in the soil, to beautiful and cleaned up in the spring, then back to a jungle of stubborn weeds and wildflowers that I’d like to politely ask to vacate.
However, the hardiness of the bushes and fruit trees that have been here all along, trustworthy and maintenance free, have been throwing fruit at us like an overzealous ex.
Stachelbeeren, kirschen, himbeeren, mirabellen; all the fruity divas are here, showing off. And of course, staring me down are dozens of Weck and Ruhglass jars, each with more history than most relationships. These jars belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before that, who used them to store jams, stews, and mysterious pickled things. Some of which is still in some jars stored in the cellar with labels so old that the date has faded. Weirdly, I don’t have the heart to throw them out yet, nor the stomach brave enough to investigate.
Growing up, I remember sitting at the chipped kitchen table, Opa to my right, Mom to my left, and Oma directly in front of me. I’d watch the routine of spreading homemade jam on slices of rye bread smeared with the thinnest layer of softened butter, just enough to know it was there, but not enough to actually taste it.
Last year, everything changed. My grandmother, who had always been the physical embodiment of a cast-iron pan; indestructible, dependable, and incredibly comforting… became frail. Her body betrayed her in ways my family and I weren’t prepared to see. Watching her lose her independence, her eyesight, and her mobility was like seeing the maple tree in the garden suddenly droop after a storm.
It sucked.
But if there’s one thing I learned from her (aside from the correct thickness of jam on bread), it’s that we keep going. We make jam. We sterilize jars. We curse at the hot sugar burns and we reminisce.
So today, I’m here in her kitchen, using her dark blue enamel pot, the spoon with the mystery crack, and those iconic old jars. As I stir the bubbling berries, I imagine her standing behind me, judging my technique, muttering “Ach, du liebe Zeit…” under her breath, while her soap opera plays on TV in the background.
I taste the jam and it’s perfect. Tart, sweet, and effortlessly comforting, just like her spirit.
Later, I’ll slather it on bread, close my eyes, and imagine I’m six years old again, thinking she’d live forever. And in some way, she does. In these jars, in these berries, in the smudged recipe cards tucked behind the coffee mugs.
If you need me, I’ll be up on the hill, wrestling mirabellen (cherry sized yellow plums) off the tree and over-analyzing my life choices.
In the meantime, here’s some recipes for fresh raspberry jam and gooseberry preserves.
Stachelbeere (Gooseberry) Jam
Ingredients
1.5lb or 680g fresh gooseberries (stachelbeeren), topped and tailed
200g sugar (I don’t actually measure, I just add enough to tone down the tartness without being too sweet)
1 lemon, juiced
Optional: one small piece of freshly grated ginger or one vanilla bean
Instructions
Wash and prepare the gooseberries. This takes forever, so queue up a podcast to match the energy.
In a large pot, combine berries, lemon juice, and sugar. Stir until everything is nicely coated.
Let it sit for about 30 minutes so the sugar can do its thing (draw out the juices).
Heat slowly, stirring often. Once sugar is dissolved, bring to a rolling boil.
Cook for about 10–15 minutes, or until it reaches setting point (test on a cold plate; if it wrinkles, it’s ready).
Skim off any scum like you’re skimming gossip at a family brunch.
Ladle into sterilized Weck or Ruhglass jars. Seal immediately and proceed with a water bath or pressure canner if you plan on storing.
Raspberry Jam
Ingredients
1 lb or roughly 500g fresh raspberries (himbeeren)
1 cup or roughly 250g sugar
Juice of 1 lemon
Instructions
Rinse raspberries carefully. Remove any leaves, bugs, or questionable choices.
In a large pot, mix raspberries, lemon juice, and sugar.
Stir gently and let sit about 20–30 minutes to release juices.
Bring to a boil and cook 5–10 minutes, stirring constantly.
Test for set on a cold plate. If it looks like it’s had Botox and refuses to wrinkle, keep cooking.
Remove from heat, skim off foam, and fill sterilized jars.
Close finger tight if using twist lids, or simply clamp down with your Weck jars. Proceed with a water bath or pressure canner if planning to store.
