Blueberry Jam Recipe (Small Batch, Canning-Friendly)
I recently shared a Substack post about making blueberry jam — a little story about how cooking can spark creativity and connect me to the seasons. You can read that here if you’d like the full reflection, but I also wanted to bring the recipe itself to my blog. This space doubles as my digital recipe box, a place where I keep the dishes I return to again and again. And blueberry jam? It’s one of my forever favourites.

If you are new to canning, make sure you fully understand proper canning procedures, as I’m not including them in this recipe. I recommend a trusted guide or book — I personally use the Bernardin Canning Cookbook, and their website is also a great resource.
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This recipe makes 6 x 250 ml jars of jam. While you might be tempted to double or triple the batch, most canning experts recommend sticking with single batches for best results. If you want more, simply repeat the process.

​Why You’ll Love This Blueberry Jam

• Bursting with fresh summer blueberry flavor
• Simple, classic ingredients 
• Perfect for toast, yogurt, pancakes, or gifting
• Shelf-stable when properly canned

​Tips for Success

• Stick with small batches — jam sets better this way.
• Frozen blueberries work just as well as fresh.
• Use bottled lemon juice for reliable acidity.
• Test for doneness with the plate test: place a small spoonful of jam on a chilled plate; if it wrinkles when pushed, it’s ready.

​Serving Suggestions

• Spread on warm toast or scones
• Swirl into yogurt or oatmeal
• Pair with soft cheeses on a charcuterie board
• Use as filling for cakes or thumbprint cookies

Storage & Shelf Life

• Official guidelines say: up to 12 months for sealed jars; 3–4 weeks refrigerated after opening.
• Personally? I often keep mine much longer. Jam is high in sugar and acid, so it stays good well past a year in the pantry and months in the fridge. Use your judgment — if it looks and smells right, it usually is.

Blueberry Jam - Step by Step Instructions

1.  Crush Blueberries in an even layer. A potato masher works great. Meanwhile, sterilize your jars, lids, tongs- all necessary tools. 

2. Add blueberries to a large pot and stir in sugar and bottled lemon. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, stirring constantly. Boil for one minute.

3. Remove from heat and stir in Pectin. You'll need two standard pouches of liquid pectin for one recipe. 

4. Keep stirring for 5 minutes, skimming any foamy bits from the top. 

5. Ladle the jam into sterilized jars. Secure flat lid and screw band. Then use the boiling water method to process jars for 10 minutes. 

6. Cool and store your jars of shelf stable blueberry jam to enjoy as you please!

Blueberries carry a quiet, introspective quality that entices me, so unlike raspberries or strawberries—summer’s bold declarations. They simply belong to late summer, their flavour mirroring the season’s shift into something more subdued and mellow. When they appear on local market shelves, I have a wide-eyed moment—as if their ripeness mirrors shifts I’ve been sensing within myself.
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While the list of things I’d love to make is long, blueberry jam comes first. When the weather turns cooler and I find myself craving a taste of simple summer comfort, I’ll reach for a jar—a smear of cultured plant-based butter on toasted sourdough, followed by a thick layer of blueberry preserves. Delicious. It’s this simple pleasure that draws me to food preservation, one of my favourite rituals.

​Pausing to make the most of what’s available feels joyful—and almost like an act of defiance in today’s fast-paced world. Preserving is generally simple, yet it can’t be rushed. Slowing down and following each step is part of the process. Like baking, it requires precision. At the restaurant, we joke that some people are better suited for baking: detail-oriented and precise, while others—the more feral bunch—thrive on improvisation. A little of this, a pinch of that, on a whim, is not only acceptable; it’s how balance is created.

Ready for slow and intentional projects in my home kitchen, I bought a big flat of blueberries, enough to make more than one recipe, projects I’ll space over a few days. I may even buy a second flat and freeze them— the thought of not having enough for pancakes, muffins, or at least one pie is unsettling. I scoop out the four and a half cups required to make my jam, dumping them into my glass bowl. For a chef, my collection of mixing bowls at home is a rather odd mishmash: two are clearly serving bowls, and my only proper mixing bowl is mammoth in size—often bigger than I need. Somehow, it pleases me that I don’t care.
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I tuck my hands down into the bowl of berries and begin scooping them up, fingers spaced just enough so the fruit can fall through after a quick inspection. Lingering bits of nature’s roughage don’t belong in my jam. The papery-soft berries tumble back into the bowl with a million tiny thuds, a torrent of deep purple and blue. I think about how it will be a whole year before I do this again.
Next comes the crushing. I grab my masher and press down; the skins pop under pressure, releasing bursts of juicy flavor that pool around the pulp. I’m reminded of my mum’s blueberry pie—how her filling is always the perfect consistency, set but just so. It wouldn’t be the same without those glorious pools of purple juice bleeding into the crust, the kind of detail that lingers long after the slice is gone.

​Once crushed, the berries await their sweet counterpart— sugar. Stirring it in is always slightly alarming—there’s more sugar by volume than berries. I try to limit my sugar intake— but let’s be real, the kind of jam I want is the opposite of that sentiment. But I let it be okay. Part of my pact in sobriety is allowing a few indulgences now and then, enjoyed guilt-free. A bit of sweetness is intentional and welcome.
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I gather the berries and sugar, then add them to my pot with a measured splash of bottled lemon. I turn on the heat, then begin to stir. Beneath my spoon, the sugar crunches lightly before dissolving completely into a glossy purple mélange. The rhythmic sound of stirring lulls me into a sense of focus. I think about the deeper meaning of blueberries—there’s more history and meaning here than I could ever begin to appreciate in my small ritual. In many indigenous traditions, the wild blueberry is honoured. It’s known as the “star berry” as each berry holds a star-shaped crown—the papery calyx left behind when plucked from the bush.

A symbol reminding people of its sacred origin, the blueberry, offered nourishment during harder times and continues to appear in stories of ceremony, reciprocity, and respect for its role in the ecosystem. In First Nations traditions, berries are harvested with prayer and song to give thanks to the land and to spirits for the crop. Every year, Passamaquoddy tribal members gather in sacred ceremony to hand-rake blueberries across ancestral lands, gently combing them from the low bushes—a practice woven through history, culture, and kinship. As the ingredients come to a boil, I note that each jar of my blueberry jam holds not just sugar and berries, but carries a rich history of sacred medicine, land stewardship, and survival. I think of how I can only be a witness to these stories, alive within the berry itself. As the fruit begins to boil, I stir in two packages of liquid pectin. Blueberries need more than other berries in order for the jam to set.
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​The jam bubbles and spits, almost rising too high before I cut the heat. Steam wafts upwards—releasing its deep sugared scent through my kitchen as I ladle the piping hot preserves into six sterilized jars. I’ve learned this is the part that requires the most care; cleaning sticky edges is a nuisance I’d rather avoid. When I’m finished, I scrape the bit of jam still stuck to the side of the pot and taste. Sweet, rosy-tart perfection—the end of August dissolving on the tip of my tongue.

​I wait a day after canning, letting the jam settle, before I finally decide it’s time to properly sample it. It’s as good as I remember, taste and memory inextricably entwined. As I press hard butter onto my toasted baguette, then top it with as much blueberry jam as I dare, I think of Marg. If I had a second mother figure in my life growing up, it was her. She passed away not long ago. I remember conversations with her and my mum about hard butter on toast versus soft: hard butter is just better. I can’t recall if I always shared that opinion, but now I know she was right. Eating my jam, I reflect on the memories it conjures, the history attached, and the feeling of summer’s end.

Late Summer Zucchini Salsa (for Canning)
This salsa makes the most of late summer vegetables—especially those oversized zucchini you’re never quite sure what to do with. Zucchini in salsa might sound unexpected, but once it’s mixed in, you won’t even notice it. The flavor is all about ripe tomatoes, bell peppers, onion, and a fragrant blend of spices. It’s a little sweet, a little tangy, with just the right kick of heat (easily dialed up for spice lovers or kept mild).

This recipe is designed for canning shelf-stable jars. I always make more than one batch—there’s always plenty of zucchini to go around, and it’s the kind of salsa you’ll be glad to have stocked for winter. It even makes a lovely homemade gift.

One important note: you’ll need to start the recipe the day before you plan to can. The grated zucchini, bell peppers, and onion are salted and left to sit overnight before cooking.

What is Zucchini Salsa?
I get it- zucchini salsa might not sound appealing, but it's really not all that different than whatever jar of salsa you're used to-- except, this is even better. The zucchini adds bulk, which is great not only to use up those overgrown garden zucchini, but for making the most of your tomatoes and peppers- it all gets cooked and preserved into a shelf stable salsa you can enjoy all year long. 

Why you'll love this recipe
You'll love this salsa recipe because it's simple to make, and addictively good. It has a balance of sweet, tangy and spice that I can't get enough of. 

Serving Suggestions
Beyond nacho chips: It also makes an insane addition to tacos or fajitas, either straight from the jar, or if you're looking for something a bit more "drizzly" I love blitzing it with a bit of mayo to create one of the most delicious taco sauces I've ever had. We do something similar, using a different salsa and some additional add ins, at the restaurant for our tacos- it's top notch. 

Ingredients and Substitutions
When you are following recipes for shelf stable foods, it's really important not to mess too much with the ingredients. The proper amount of acidity, salt and sugar are important- I'm not an expert on this topic, but I know enough not to take liberties that could eventually pose a food related health risk.

With that being said, some things are flexible. The original recipe calls for two red bell peppers, and two green bell peppers. Last time I made it- I used one red, one green, one yellow, and one orange. No big deal. 

You can also omit, reduce, or increase the amount of chili flakes in the recipe if you want to adjust the heat level. The original recipe called for an INSANE amount of chili flakes. Two tablespoons. I've been cooking long enough that when I took one look at the recipe- I was like - hell no. I SIGNIFICANTLY reduced it to 1/2 tsp chili flakes, which gives it enough heat for my palate. 

​Expert Tips / Notes Section

• Grate zucchini on the coarse side so it keeps some texture.
• Don’t skip the overnight salting step—it keeps the salsa from being watery, and is an important step for general food safety.
• Use a non-reactive pot (stainless steel or enamel) so the acidity doesn’t react. 
• Don't overcook the salsa - the instructions say 15 - 20 minutes as a guide. Cooked, but with some texture remaining in the vegetables. 

SAFETY
Following proper canning procedures for high acid foods is essential to prevent bacteria growth. My recipe doesn't include these instructions. Familiarize yourself with proper processes. Understand the difference between canning high acid and low acid foods. (High acid foods - like this salsa, are the best place to start for a beginner, as you won't need special equipment (a pressure canner) to heat process your jars of salsa. A "canning pot" (a large pot specifically for canning, which I recommend buying- mine wasn't expensive) of boiling water reaches the right temperature for high acid foods. There's lots of guides out there - here is one from Bernardin website, sharing methods for high and low acid foods. 

Step by Step Instructions

​1. Add grated zucchini, peppers and onion to a large bowl, stir in salt and let sit, covered, overnight. 

2. Rinse and strain the zucchini, onion and bell pepper mixture. 
I simply set my large bowl that has all the vegetables in it right in the sink and start filling up the bowl with cold water. I swoosh it around a bunch. Then, on the other side of the sink I put my strainer. I strain it in batches just using my hands to transfer it from the bowl to the strainer. (Mine isn't big enough to do it all at once). After each straining, transfer to a large stock pot.

3. Add All Ingredients to the Pot.
After you have rinsed and strained all the zucchini, bell pepper and onion mixture and transferred it to a pot- Add the remainder of the salsa ingredients. 

4. Prepare your jars, lids and required utensils - following proper canning procedures. Here is a guide, if you don't already know how. 

​5. Bring Salsa To a Boil
Start cooking Salsa over medium high heat, while stirring fairly regularly to prevent scorching. 
Once it comes to a boil, you can turn the heat down slightly, but keep it at a low boil - you want more than a gentle simmer. Cook for about 15 minutes, until the salsa looks "cooked" and the vegetables are mostly softened, but still some texture remaining. 

6. Start Scooping the salsa into your prepared jars, wiping rims with a clean cloth, and following the proper method for placing lids and screw caps. 

Tip - leave one inch space between salsa and lid. One of the utensils I like to have sanitized is a metal skewer. You give the salsa a stir with the skewer to release any trapped air, before wiping the rim with a clean cloth and placing the lids. 

I recently purchased a canning funnel! It sits snug in the jars with a wide mouth opening- makes the process a lot less messy.

7. Heat process the jarred salsa for 15 minutes, using the boiling water method. 

I definitely recommend buying the proper tool for removing jars from the boiling water. Search for Jar lifters or tongs. Canadian Tire sells them- probably widely available anywhere that sells canning supplies.