Here's everything that could go wrong with your jam, Meghan…and my tips to make sure it doesn't

Release time：2024-05-22 11:05:57 Source：Stellar Signals news portal

Gosh, Meghan, you and I have so much in common! We even use the same hexagonal jam jars for our — what some people call — 'preserves'. (Not us, though, because we don't like that word.)

Now, I don't want to hurt your feelings because this is an exciting new enterprise for you — creating 50 pots of jam, the first product in your chic American Riviera Orchard food range — but those frilly maids' caps on jars are a bit twee and Seventies. The august judges at the World Marmalade Awards in Dalemain, Cumbria, very much frown on frilly hats and nobody argues with them. Go for plain silver lids, I would.

I know a bit about jams (never, ever, use the word 'jelly', even though you're in America). I have my own range, just like you, and in 2019, I even won a Gold Medal at the Dalemain Awards.

In fact, looking at your jam in the hands of the friends and influencers you've sent it to, and at the video you posted to Instagram of you cooking in that elegant Montecito kitchen, I'd be happy to share some jam making tips.

While we're on the subject of presentation, I notice the label on the jar you sent to fashion designer Tracy Robbins is slightly coming off and flapping to one side. A dab more glue should do the trick.

Fashion designer Tracy Robbins posted a picture of Meghan's jam, ordained with the logo for American Riviera Orchard and 'Montecito' underneath. The label also had the words '17 of 50'

Were you really making this jam in the video you posted? The soft focus makes it quite hard to see. If you were, I'm impressed that you appeared to be making it without a white coat on or even an apron; I find that strawberry jam gets everywhere. But maybe you were just bottling it up in the video. Then I expect you put the jars into a low oven for five minutes. After that you will have screwed the lids up tightly to make a perfect seal so that the jar opens with a reassuring airtight pop. Without that finishing touch, of course, one of your friends could open a jar and find a little furry crop of mould on top.

One burning question for you: where will you find all these people in California who eat strawberry jam? I thought you were as likely to find anyone in LA with a loaf of bread in the house as you were to find them eating deep fried Mars bars or smoking a Silk Cut.

Again, I don't want to put you off. I'm sure your jam will fly off the shelves, but if you do happen to see, months down the road, an old uneaten jar in someone's fridge, just think of it as character building and rise above it.

Lucy Deedes won a Gold Medal for her marmalade at the Dalemain Awards in 2019

Socialite and photographer Delfina Balquier also posted a photo on Instagram which read: 'Strawberry jam makes me happy'

Although making marmalade is my day job, I do make an exception for strawberry jam, though only when strawberries are in season in the UK. 'Seasonal' and 'air miles' are a big deal here in your titular county of Sussex, where (what are the chances?) I live. You probably have strawberries all year round in California so it won't matter.

Let's talk basics. I never subscribed to 'the strawberries have gone mushy; they'll do for jam' idea. You want top quality and slightly under-ripe strawberries to make good jam.

We can't see the back of your jar so I don't know what the ingredients label says, but do use preserving sugar, not granulated; Lord knows why, but it makes a better and clearer set. And while we're on the subject of sugar, don't whatever you do use too much. Oversweet jam will literally make your teeth hurt and I would've thought that, in California, where sugar is the enemy, the less the better. I think a ratio of 4:3 strawberries to sugar is fine, and plenty of lemon juice.

Because we have so much in common, I'm happy to share a precious trade secret with you, which is that I add a few sprigs of rosemary when the jam is boiling. They'll like that in LA.

I don't have to explain the set to you, do I? Without it the jam will be hopelessly runny, and runny jam is the devil's work. You want it nicely holding its shape in the spoon, a bit like a bosom, but not so hard it's like a fruit gum.

That brings us to pectin, which as you'll know is a thickening agent often used in home-made preserves. I'm not a fan - you'll hardly believe this, but I've heard some people even use it in marmalade. For jam, however, I reluctantly admit that pectin is necessary; just do what it says on the jar.

I should wear a chef's jacket, if I were you, because your clothes look expensive and strawberry jam boils in a hysterically gloopy way, almost as dangerously as quince. Be careful not to burn your hand. There will be jam on the floor, on the cooker, behind the cooker and on you.

If you've used my top tip and added rosemary, then tie it in muslin while the jam boils so that you can easily take it out afterwards. Nobody wants rosemary stuck in their expensive veneers.

When that volcanic jam reaches 105 degrees, put it somewhere to settle for 15 minutes or so and have a little breather yourself. This rest is vital for the jam otherwise the whole strawberries will swim to the surface like hungry guppies, leaving an embarrassing clear space at the bottom of the jar. You don't want to hear what the Dalemain judges say about that.

I'm sure you probably know all this stuff, Meghan, but watch out for wasps; they will get in the pan and the jar if possible.

At this point, your jars and lids are obviously ready, sterilised and warm from the oven. And once you've poured the jam in, don't forget that extra five minutes in the oven before you tighten the lids.

Another thing about hygiene: I can imagine that since you're selling your jam, the local district health officer will have to come round to check your kitchen. I believe Montecito is in the Californian county of Santa Barbara? Did you hide your dogs like I did? One thing they would have wanted to see was what you wear on your head when you're cooking. (If anyone ever found a hair in a jar of my marmalade I'd have to leave the country.)

You could wear one of those blue hair nets if you wanted, but just keep Harry out of the kitchen because it's not a great look.

Or you could do what I do which is wear a chef's hat I bought from the Sandringham gift shop. Have you been? Some great stuff in there and my hat says Buckingham Palace on the front which I think you'll agree is pretty smart.

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