Farm Journal · September 23, 2025
Our Jam Story
At Farmstead 1868, every jar of jam carries more than fruit and sugar, it carries a lifetime of memories, traditions, and love.
Some of my earliest memories are of being in the kitchen with my Grandma, sticky with berries and laughter, and in many cases Italian cuss words. I won my very first 4-H ribbon for a blackberry jam made with berries picked right from our yard. That little ribbon might have been small, but it planted a seed, that food could become art, comfort, and the center of strong relationships.
Growing up in our family’s restaurant, I spent countless hours watching food bring people together. My mom and I made crabapple jelly in the kitchen corner, with the hum of the restaurant as our background music. Late into the night, when I studied for tests in high school, Mom would slip me a warm English muffin, slathered with butter and jam. A little act of love that still tastes like home.
And then there were the tea parties: My Great Uncles, big, old Italian men with voices like thunder, would sit and pretend to sip “tea” while I was maybe four years old. They’d raise their pinkies with a twinkle in their eyes, eating biscuits with jam as if they were royalty. I can still see those broad hands, calloused from hard work, delicately holding a tiny antique teacup, and me, giggling through it all. (They would give me soda when Grandma wasn't looking, a major offense. And I'm pretty sure they had Anisette or homemade Grappa, not tea, in their cups...)
Those moments weren’t just funny; they were a reminder that food is joy, and joy is best when shared.
Jam has always been comfort food. The tables we sit at when we are little build the people we become as we age. Every meal, conversation, sketch of a future dream drawn on the back of a napkin lays the foundation of who we are becoming. For me, that means carrying forward a sense of connection, of slowing down to notice the sweetness in life, especially when the moments are little.
Now, as a mom and a farmer, jam is woven into the rhythm of our family’s life.
On cozy mornings, or after doing farm chores in the dark cold of winter, I’ll toast thick slices of bread, spread them with butter and jam, and set them beside steaming mugs of cocoa. Watching my kids bite into that simple sweetness warms me as much as it warms them. And it always reminds me of the stories, and feeling of belonging, from when I was little.
The Farmstead's journey to jam has been full of twists and turns, including a season as a Pampered Chef Consultant, gathering people around their own tables and teaching them the joy of cooking. And now, at Farmstead 1868, jam feels like the sticky thread tying it all together, my grandma’s kitchen, my mom’s restaurant, tea parties with uncles, and now mornings with our babies on our farm.
Every jar we make carries those stories. And when you open one, I hope you feel it too, not just the taste of berries and sugar, but the comfort of home, the laughter of family, and the sweetness of connection.