Collection Date: 4/24/2026

Context:

My dad told me the story of how his mom used to make homemade jams from the fruit trees they had growing around their yard. My dad grew up in Canoga Park, CA, in the 1980s living in a lower-class, community-centered neighborhood. He said that his parents were very self- sufficient almost homesteaders and that my grandma had a way with plants unlike anyone else in the neighborhood. My grandma passed very recently, so this is a good positive memory for my dad, but difficult to ask too many questions on her specifcally. He told me this story while sitting around our kitchen, thinking of folklore and stories from his past.

Text:

My dad is pretty sure my grandma learned how to make jam from her mom, but he isn’t too sure because he never really helped out. He was usually “out in the neighborhood getting into trouble.” My grandma grew up in Orange County Ca in the 40s and 50s, back when they actually had oranges. In her neighborhood at that time, self-sufficiency and homesteading were essential. She lived on a small ranch with chickens, horses, fruit trees, and some vegetables. Essentially, the modern-day homesteader’s dream. She watched as their neighborhood turned more and more suburban. When she moved to the San Fernando Valley, she tried teaching those jam-making, gardening, and other valuable skills to my dad and his siblings so they could be self-sufficient, and because that was the world she knew. But it seems now, skills like jam- making aren’t a necessity, they’re more of a hobby.

My dad remembers that their house in Canoga Park had plenty of fruit trees and berry bushes, all grown and maintained by his mom. The property wasn’t especially large, but it had several plum, apricot, orange, lemon, and peach trees. As well as grape vines, strawberry bushes, and blueberry bushes. He thinks some of the trees came with the house when his parents first bought the place, but the fruit trees were an added plus that my grandma appreciated. They didn’t have any animals besides dogs growing up. so I can imagine that the fruit trees were a great way for her to pass on her upbringing. I always enjoyed talking with her about the fond memories she had of riding her horses and growing up in such a pleasant environment. I can imagine she viewed that as a real positive environment for kids to grow up in and wanted that for her own kids, even if making homemade jams weren’t necessary.

Most of the fruits ripened in different seasons, so there wasn’t a single specific time or season for making jam. But my dad fondly remembers playing under the plum tree and snacking on fresh plums in the summer. The trees were so large and bore so much fruit that the plums, apricots, etc., often spoiled. His family was very conservative with their money because they didn’t have much. So, to avoid wasting good food, my grandma would turn all that extra fruit into homemade jams.

As far as my dad remembers, the process involved cutting the fruits and putting them in pots to boil on the stove. After that, they were sealed in mason jars with some special procedure to keep them from rotting. The mason jars were then left to cool and turn into jams. He never really saw her use a specific recipe, probably from memory. He said that his family “learned to be smart with their money and use everything.” He remembers they would mix flavors, sometimes adding sugar or new fruits. Generally speaking, it was much healthier and cheaper than store-bought options. The original jams were all used by their family in day-to-day cooking or eating. My dad usually snacked on the jams. He doesn’t remember them ever sharing any with their neighbors or using them for special occasions, but they did share fresh fruits with neighbors.

His older and younger sisters did help out a lot, though. My grandma taught them how to properly make the jams so that they were safe to eat. We briefly asked them if they still make any. They still do occasionally, following the general recipes that they remember, but it kind of fell off because it’s easier to just buy jams. They also don’t live in neighborhoods where they can grow their own fruits, so it’s not the same as when they were little.

Analysis:

At the most basic level, my dad and I understand that making food at home was primarily a money thing. They grew up in a relatively low-income household and neighborhood where saving money was important. So, saving money on foods like jams and homegrown fruits wasn’t just for aesthetics; it was primarily a practical necessity. My dad isn’t wasteful, and a large reason why is because of his upbringing. Making jam was first and foremost to prevent food waste.

But, I believe she also taught it to her kids for a more personal reason. It was the life my grandma knew. We don’t know if they picked the house specifically because of the fruit trees or whether that was a coincidence. But regardless of the reason, my dad’s family grew up in a house that had fruit trees. My grandma grew up in a similar environment, back in Orange County. To her, turning excess fruits into jam was just what you do. That’s likely a skill she learned growing up, and bringing it to Canoga Park was just natural. Teaching those skills to my dad’s sisters was probably a fun way to connect, but also to teach them a valuable skill. To her this wasn’t a hobby, it was a way of life. By teaching her kids, she was giving them a glimpse into her upbringing and teaching them to be self sufficient.

This is just speculation, but she saw the urbanization of Orange County. The gradual disappearance of that way of life she grew up with. I didn’t even know Orange County used to have anything besides suburbs and homes. So bringing that practice to Canoga Park could have served as a way to revive that tradition or keep it going. It could also have been a way to remember her past. Whenever I spoke with her about her childhood, she always had very good things to say. So, she probably enjoyed re-living those memories and loved being able to provide that same lifestyle and memories to her kids.

I’d say that worked! My dad and his siblings fondly remember the jams; such a simple food became an important piece of their upbringing. His siblings picked up and carried on the tradition as much as they could. But in a world that was slowly urbanizing, homegrown fruits weren’t as common. That homestead way of life is becoming a rare exception, especially here in California. My aunts all occasionally make jams, but they explained that it’s just too much work to make it, especially when it’s cheaper to just buy. This reflects what we learned. As folklorists, we try to collect these stories and dying ways of life, as we learned it’s salvage ethnography. They feel so different and strange, making them all the most interesting to collect and preserve. But, it’s important to remember that as the ways change, traditions don’t die, they just change.

The jams weren’t just for my grandma to preserve food. Whether this was her intent or not, she was also preserving a way of life. Planting the trees, making jam instead of buying it, was a way to resist urbanization and hold on to how she was raised. Now, some of her daughters make jams without fresh fruits, from memory, without her. The urbanization that changed her way of life is slowly eroding tradition, but that’s part of what makes it so special. If the tradition were timeless or abundant, then maybe my dad wouldn’t think it as special. It’s the fact that it has a lifespan that makes it special.