I never meant to sell jam.
Truly. That was not on the vision board.
No mason jars. No gingham lids. No charming handwritten labels tied on with twine.
When I named this place The Creative Jam, I was thinking music, momentum, movement. A space where people come together and make something—like a jam session, but with paint instead of bass lines.
But somewhere along the way… people started asking.
“Do you sell jam here?”
Again.
And again.
And again.
At first, I thought it was funny. A charming little misunderstanding.
Then I thought, “Maybe I should hang a sign that says ‘No edible jam here—just creative kind!’”
Then someone asked me while holding a paintbrush, and I thought, “You know what? Fine. Let’s lean in.”
And that’s when Dottie entered the picture.
Dottie is the kind of person who makes you feel like everything’s going to be okay—as long as you have fruit, sugar, and a clean jar. She arrived at The Creative Jam with a hot plate, a canning bath, and a calm confidence that can only come from someone who has absolutely mastered the science of boiling fruit until it becomes magic. At that point we knew that we were going to learn to make jams & jellies the right way.
In just over an hour and a half, we made strawberry rhubarb jam—right in front of our own wide-eyed, aproned faces.
And let me tell you, Diary… I was riveted.
We stirred.
We measured.
We ladled that bubbling ruby mixture into jars while talking about sterilization, shelf life, and the strangely fascinating politics of pectin.
Some attendees even jumped in to help fill jars, wipe rims, and screw on lids like we were part of some rustic kitchen cult (which, frankly, I would join).
Dottie taught us about jar sizes, low-sugar options, high-acid fruits, and something that surprised a few of us:
Gelatin is not vegan.
I know. I didn’t either.
So we learned about plant-based thickeners, how to make vegan jellies, and even how to sweeten without sugar bombs. It was part science class, part culinary show, and part therapy—because something about watching jam set while a room full of strangers leans in to smell makes you feel weirdly calm and connected.
By the end, we had warm jars of homemade jam cooling on the table and this soft hum of “I can’t believe I just did that” floating through the studio. It felt like alchemy.
Which I guess is what creativity is, at its core: turning ordinary things into something surprisingly lovely.
We’re already planning more jam and jelly classes. I hear spiced blueberry might be next—with clove. I’m 95% sure I’d follow that smell into the woods if it asked nicely.
So no, Creative Jam didn’t start as a place to buy jam.
But here we are.
Creativity, community, and a few jars of joy on the side.
Love, fruit, ferment, and following the weird path,
Darcy
Come learn to make jams & jellies with us! CLICK HERE to join us for our next Jams and Jellies class at The Creative Jam on May 9, 2025!
