Maria Giovanni, UC Master Food Preserver Online Program Volunteer

California has a diverse landscape, with altitudes ranging from 280 feet below sea level (Death Valley) to 14,500 feet (Mt. Whitney). The location of your kitchen is an important consideration in home food preservation. The first step is to determine your altitude, which you can do here. You may think you know your altitude but we encourage you to double check. You can also use this website if you are helping others with food preservation. 

The boiling point of water as a function of elevation above sea level. (Plot by Henry Shaw, used with permission). 

I grew up 10 miles west of the Twin Towers in a third-floor apartment. My mom (a transplant from LA) was (and still is!) an excellent cook; she prepared fresh vegetables in season and frozen ones out of season. We got some good New Jersey corn, peaches, and tomatoes in the summer. We had a weird kind of prejudice against vegetables in cans, though I’m not sure why.   

It wasn’t until I moved to California in 1995 that I knew anyone who canned fruit or vegetables, and they were primarily farm families. In California, fresh fruit, and lots of it, became a staple in my family’s diet. We make smoothies at home, so we’ve been freezing berries, figs, peaches, and tomatoes at their peak of perfection for years without even thinking that we were “preservers.” I’ve always loved cooking healthy food, and froze leftovers, stock, cakes, and cookies for quick access, but not all of them came out of the freezer well, and I wasn’t sure why. 

When I interviewed for my current position at UC ANR, I admitted sheepishly that I’d never preserved anything, to which Sue Mosbacher (the Program Director) declared, “Have you ever frozen anything? Then you’re a food preserver!” It was true!  

Fast forward three years and I’d developed a real fondness for the people in the UC Master Food Preserver (MFP) program and a true appreciation for the value of its deliverables, so I decided I wanted to spend some more time (lots more time) engaging with the Master Food Preservers.  

As part of the training class in 2025, I did my first steam canning, boiling-water canning, pressure canning, and dehydrating, and I learned why some foods freeze better than others. I loved the in-person labs; they were so fun! My favorite is canning jam and jelly with a steam canner. In fact, just after graduating from the program, I embarked on a jam-making binge that didn’t end until I had over 30 jars of jam prepared, labeled, and ready to give out as party-favors at a bridal shower. (They were a hit! The theme was “bubbles and berries”!)  

Most of the volunteering I’ve been doing as an MFP has been behind the scenes, most recently with the newsletter, Save the Season, for which I’m a designer and a writer. I am looking forward to participating more in classes in 2026, as a Q&A monitor at first and then possibly taking the lead for teaching a class segment before my first full year is up. I hope to see you in a class!  

The thousandth grape drops into the bowl. As the wilting days of summer soften into crisp fall mornings, I pick bunches and bunches of grapes from my garden. I dutifully wash and separate the fruit from the stems, one grape at a time. 

I love this annual ritual of making grape jelly. Decades ago, my mom taught kids how to preserve fruits and vegetables through the local 4-H youth group. A half dozen kids would come over and spend summer afternoons chopping loads of peaches and stirring hot, spattering pans of plum preserves. Last year, I became a Master Food Preserver through the University of California Cooperative Extension to teach others how to freeze, can, dehydrate, and ferment California’s finest produce. 

Once several pounds of grapes are in a pan, I cook down the fruit. Over the high heat, each grape pops and releases its juice and flavor. 

There is a misconception about making jelly: that the best fruits for preserving are overripe or bruised, those weeping berries or gouged pears. This is not true. What is true is that there is a shelf life to everything; some things simply cannot wait. As the fruit gets more mature, there are more sugars, sure. But the pectin and acid, responsible for the lovely, wobbly texture that jelly is named for, declines as the grape turns from puckering green to ripe purple. To preserve produce at its peak demands urgency. Not quite the urgent intensity of a dog’s eyes minutes before dinner, but certainly more than a nagging email. 

After the grapes are cooked, liquid resembling mulled wine is left, without the spices or alcohol. Every grape is exhausted of its contents, and it’s now time to strain the mixture to separate the grape skins from the deep purple, flavor-and-pectin-rich liquid that will become the jelly. As the liquid cools overnight in the fridge, tartrate crystals form on the surface. I pass the liquid once more through cheesecloth to remove these tiny snowflakes, the precursor to the mysteriously named Cream of Tartar you find in the baking aisle. 

 

On day two, I carefully pour the strained liquid into a shallow preserving pan along with scoops of warmed sugar and freshly squeezed lemon juice and crank the heat to high. All fruits naturally have some level of pectin. It is a long-stranded carbohydrate; imagine a mane of silky hair. When combined with sugar, acid, and heat, these strands of pectin get tangled up, trapping microscopic pockets of water to create a gel. 

Hand-drawn illustration of the chemistry behind pectin gelling (Ariel Patton, used with permission). 

 

I stir and I wait. There are many ways to know if the “gel point” has been reached, the moment the molecules align to form a delectably firm grape jelly. I’ve gotten better at seeing the specific glossiness on the surface, watching as the bubbles ascend more slowly through the boiling liquid, sensing how the spoon traces a deeper pattern in the bottom of the pan. My cheat code is using an instant-read thermometer – once it reads 220°F (exactly eight degrees above boiling at sea-level, my elevation), the cooked jelly is ready. 

 

After many years of using mason jars only as trendy early-aughts decor, I welcomed the gentle rhythm of food preservation during the pandemic. Canning was a way to measure out time, to bottle it up, to tick it off, to mark its passing. In my pantry, the bright jars of apricot preserves, next to chunky peach chutney, followed by smooth pear jam were clear and inarguable evidence that months and seasons were indeed rolling by. 

 

I pour the still-boiling jelly into hot, clean mason jars. I wipe the rim of each jar and tighten the two-piece lids. This also requires attention to get right – tightened enough to seal, but not so tight that it prevents hot air from escaping. One by one, I nestle all the jars into a pot of boiling water to disarm any remaining bacteria. When ten minutes are up, I fish out each jar from the boiling water and place them on the counter to cool. 

 

While there is a thrill in being a one-woman assembly line, making grape jelly is the opposite of how I typically spend my days. It’s inefficient. It’s inconvenient. It’s manual and tedious. As much as I personally enjoy this process, I emphatically do not believe we would have a better food system if everyone had to do this every time they wanted a PB&J. If anything, this annual ritual makes me marvel at the complexity hidden in every bite of food. 

 

Pop! Pop! Pop! 

 

Is there anything more satisfying than hearing the jars on my counter seal, as the tiny breath of hot air within each jar cools and creates a partial vacuum? I’ll save you the two-day journey to find out: the answer is no. Through the alchemy of preservation, what was previously five pounds of grapes threatening to decompose is now six jars of jelly that will last at least a year in my pantry. 

 

To preserve is to grasp the ephemeral and save the very best at its peak for another day. To be able to lick summer off a spoon, past when the leaves have turned and fallen, when our tiny patch of Earth is tilted its very furthest from the sun. 

 

Hi! My name is Monica Gross and I am a 2025 graduate of the UC Master Food Preserver (MFP) Online Delivery Program. I heard about the MFP Program when I first became a Master Gardener in 2013. At that time, there was no MFP program in the county where I lived, so I put the idea of entering an MFP Program on the back burner. The Online Delivery Program became available in 2025, so I applied, was accepted, graduated, and I have now joined the ranks of the Master Food Preservers. 

I live in densely populated Los Angeles County, but I am fortunate to have a half-acre parcel that has 11 original, mature Valencia oranges trees dating from the early 20^th century. In addition to the orange orchard, we have Fuerte avocado, grapefruit, lemon, peach, plum, pear, apple, and cherry trees. The property has plenty of room, so we have developed a large vegetable garden since I retired in 2012. My favorite crops to grow are tomatoes, asparagus, blackberries, beans, artichoke, cucumber, and sometimes giant pumpkins. My extended family recently competed in a familial Atlantic Giant pumpkin-growing contest—my local and distant relatives in Northern California and Oregon competed to see who could grow the largest pumpkin! That summer the entire family spent our vacations traveling to spy on the competing pumpkins throughout the state! The relative farthest north won the contest.  

Small Altantic Giant pumpkin (Monia Gross, used with permission). 

Becoming an MFP was a natural extension of being an avid gardener. I had some experience in food preservation prior to joining the program—I had canned tomatoes in a water-bath canner and had made various jams, but I had no experience with canning low-acid foods until joining the MFP Program. I look forward to increasing my skills in this area. 

If you are interested in food preservation, I highly recommend becoming an MFP! You’ll find a kindred community of like-minded individuals who value preserving the bounties of the garden! 

Robin Martin, UC Master Food Preserver Online Program Volunteer

Although the best pumpkins for cooking are the smaller, sweeter varieties of pumpkin, pretty much any pumpkin can have its life extended after its role as an autumnal decoration is concluded. Prepare and freeze* pumpkin purée for soups, cakes, butters, pies, and even lattes and cocktails! It’s so easy, you wouldn’t believe it!  What makes a pumpkin undesirable for cooking is if the pulp is excessively stringy. In addition, anything that is moldy should obviously be composted rather than preserved in any form. 

To prepare a pumpkin for eating or preserving, it’s important to wash the exterior of the pumpkin to remove any dirt and to reduce the bacterial load on the surface. Even though you won’t eat the peel, surface contaminants can travel into the flesh of the pumpkin on the knife when you cut into it.  After washing the pumpkin, cut it in half from the top to the bottom, then scoop out the seeds and pulp. Reserve this – we’ll review how to cook delicious pumpkin seeds later!  

At this point, there are two primary ways to cook the pumpkin flesh in advance of freezing: 

Boiled: To boil the pumpkin, peel it and cut it into 2-inch chunks. Cook in boiling water until a fork easily penetrates the pieces.  

Baked: To roast the pumpkin (my preference), place the halves of pumpkin cut-side down on a baking pan and bake at 350ºFfor about 90 minutes, or until you can stick a fork through the skin and into the flesh easily.  

Pumpkin halves in the oven being probed for readiness (Robin Martin, used with permission). 

Once the pumpkin is at the desired tenderness, drain and cool it on the counter for no longer than two hours. Remove the roasted pumpkin flesh from the rind. Use a masher or food processor (my preference) to purée the pumpkin. Pack the pumpkin purée as-is into food-safe freezer containers (plastic bags – my preference - or rigid containers) and freeze for up to one year for best quality. Alternately, strain the purée to remove much of the liquid and then pack and freeze. Or make any of the recipes below!  

Basic Pumpkin Seeds 

Pumpkin seeds are a delicious out-of-hand snack or gorgeous addition to salads and vegetable side dishes. First, extract the seeds from the flesh and carefully wash them to remove any remaining pumpkin tissue. The seeds can then be dried in a dehydrator at 115º to 120ºF for one to two hours, or in an oven on warm for three to four hours, stirring frequently. After drying, seeds can be roasted. To roast pumpkin seeds, toss the dried pumpkin seeds with oil (approximately 1 teaspoon per cup of seeds) and season with your favorite spice blend. Roast in a preheated oven at 250ºF for ten to fifteen minutes. (Process adapted from https://hgic.clemson.edu/factsheet/pumpkin-basics/). 

Pumpkin Bread 

Pumpkin bread (Robin Martin, used with permission).

Ingredients 

2 cups flour (all-purpose or one-to-one gluten free flour for a gluten-free option) 

½ tsp salt 

1 tsp baking soda 

½ tsp baking powder 

1 tsp ground cloves 

1 tsp ground cinnamon 

1 tsp ground nutmeg 

½ cup softened butter 

1 cup white granulated sugar 

½ cup brown sugar 

¼ cup apple sauce 

2 large eggs 

15 oz pumpkin purée, liquid strained out through a cheesecloth 

Instructions 

Preheat oven to 325ºF.Set rack in the middle of the oven. Grease two 8” x 4” loaf pans with butter and dust with flour.  

Combine the dry ingredients - flour, salt, baking soda, baking powder, cloves, cinnamon, and nutmeg in a bowl.  

In an electric mixer bowl, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed until blended, add the eggs one at a time, beating well. Beat until light and fluffy. Add the pumpkin and the apple sauce. Don’t worry if it looks curdled.  

Add the dry ingredients and mix at low speed until combined.  

Divide the batter into the two pans. Bake for 65-75 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the loaves cool in the pans for about 10 minutes then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely.  

When completely cool, slice one loaf and put it in a labeled freezer baggie and freeze. You can toast and enjoy it later at a moment’s notice. Outside the freezer, the other loaf will be good for a few days.  

Freezer Pumpkin Butter 

Ingredients 

2 pints pumpkin purée 

¾ cup apple juice 

2 tsp ground ginger 

½ tsp ground cloves 

1½ cups white sugar 

2 tsp ground cinnamon 

1 tsp ground nutmeg 

Note: you can adjust the spice quantities to suit your own taste.  

Instructions 

Combine pumpkin, apple juice, spices, and sugar in a large saucepan. Stir well. Bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes or to desired thickness. Stir frequently. Transfer to sterile half-pint freezer containers. Leave half-inch headspace and store in the freezer for up to 1 year. 

Yield: about 5 half-pint freezer containers. 

Recipe source: https://ucanr.edu/sites/default/files/2019-10/312416.pdf 

Easiest Pumpkin Shrub for a Party 

Pumpkin shrub in a glass (Robin Martin, used with permission). 

A shrub is a sweetened, vinegar-based fruit (or vegetable) flavored mixer for both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. This one is delicious with maple bourbon or just some seltzer.  

Ingredients 

Flesh from a 3 lbs. roasted pumpkin or squash 

1½  cups white sugar 

1½ cups apple cider vinegar 

¼ cup fresh ginger, grated 

1 Tbsp ground cinnamon 

Instructions 

Add the pumpkin flesh to a glass or plastic container. Add the sugar, vinegar, ginger, and cinnamon. Stir to combine. Place in refrigerator overnight or for up to 24 hours.  

Put the pumpkin mixture through a food mill or sieve, squeezing the liquid into a bowl. Discard the solids and pour the liquid into a jar or bottle.   

Shrubs should be stored in the refrigerator, where they will keep for up to a year. Always check your shrub before consuming it, and if there are any signs of mold, or if the shrub starts to look bubbly, cloudy, or slimy, throw it away. When in doubt, throw it out. 

Recipe adapted from https://www.seriouseats.com/pumpkin-shrub-fall-drinking-vinegar-for-mixing-cocktails 

*Freezing is the only recommended method for preserving pumpkin purées, butters, and preserves. It’s important to recognize that home canning (for shelf-stable) pumpkin purée is not recommended because it, and other winter squashes, are low-acid foods that must be processed in a pressure canner to ensure safety. Purées can be too “thick” and viscous to allow effective heat transfer by fluid convection in the jars; hence heat may not penetrate evenly and completely during processing. Without even heating during the pressure-canning process, spores of the Clostridium botulinum bacterium may survive, putting anyone who eats the food at risk of botulism, a deadly food-borne illness. For instructions on home canning, see https://ucanr.edu/site/uc-master-food-preserver-program-orange-county/pumpkins 

Additional resources:  

nchfp.uga.edu/blog/plenty-of-pumpkin-possibilities 

nchfp.uga.edu/how/can/canning-vegetables-and-vegetable-products/pumpkins-and-winter-squash-cubed/ 

nchfp.uga.edu/how/freeze/vegetable/freezing-pumpkin/ 

ucanr.edu/site/uc-master-food-preserver-program-orange-county/pumpkins 

Image

Paige Weisskirch, UC Master Food Preserver Online Program Volunteer

Dried fruit bread (Photo caption: Paige Weisskirch, used with permission). 

Every November, I open my pantry and face the same situation: half-empty bags of dried apricots from the previous year’s baking; figs I dehydrated with good intentions; some crystallized ginger that seemed essential at the time; and at least three bags of raisins I can't quite remember purchasing. They sit there, taking up valuable real estate, slowly hardening into little fruit pebbles. 

This is exactly why I fell in love with fruitcake, or at least the idea of it. Not the neon-red-cherry-studded doorstop version that inspired Johnny Carson to joke about one fruitcake being passed around the world forever. Fruitcake has a reputation problem it doesn't entirely deserve. It's been the punchline at holiday parties for decades, but it's also survived for literally thousands of years. That alone deserves some respect. 

War Rations to Wedding Cakes 

One of the first known fruitcakes, called satura, originated in Ancient Rome. Roman soldiers carried this dense mix of barley mash, raisins, pomegranate seeds, and honeyed wine on military campaigns. Portable, calorie-dense, nearly indestructible.  

The Crusades opened trade routes, flooding European markets with exotic dried fruits and spices. Each region developed its own version. Italy gave us panforte and panettone. Germany perfected stollen, that buttery, sugar-dusted Christmas staple. Britain went all-in on fruitcake for the holidays, along with plum puddings so beloved they inspired Christmas carols. 

When sugar from the Americas hit European markets in the 1600s, fruitcakes got sweeter and more decadent. Candied fruits transformed them into luxury items reserved for weddings and major celebrations. 

The Victorian Era Goes All In 

Victorian England turned fruitcake into an obsession. Dense, boozy, and baked weeks or months before Christmas, these cakes became the centerpiece of holiday tables. Fruitcake became the choice for royal weddings. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert served one at their 1840 wedding. In 2016, a slice from that cake sold at auction for around $1,500. A 176-year-old piece of cake. 

Why It Lasts Forever (Almost) 

Fruitcake's legendary shelf life is a result of science, not magic. Dried fruits and nuts have low moisture content, so bacteria don't have much to work with. High sugar concentration binds with water, making it unavailable for mold and bacteria to grow while retaining enough moisture to keep the cake soft. Alcohol (usually rum, brandy, or bourbon) denatures bacterial proteins, essentially sanitizing the cake from the inside out. 

Traditional bakers often "season" their fruitcakes by wrapping them in liquor-soaked cloth and adding small amounts of alcohol periodically over months. The flavors mellow and deepen, like aging wine. According to the USDA, a store-bought fruitcake can last six months in the fridge or a year in the freezer. 

The legends are real. In 2017, researchers found a 106-year-old fruitcake from Robert Falcon Scott's 1912 Antarctic expedition. It was still in "excellent condition." 

From Punchline to Nostalgia 

Early 20th-century America embraced fruitcake, thanks to mail-order catalogs and the newly established U.S. Parcel Post Service (1913). It became shorthand for Christmas, and for comedians, an easy target. 

Still, plenty of people loved it. Truman Capote's 1956 short story A Christmas Memory captures the joy of fruitcake-making: a boy and his older cousin gathering pecans, pouring whiskey into the batter, declaring "Oh my, it's fruitcake weather!" It's sweet and nostalgic, and it makes me want to bake one - almost. 

Fruitcake is a time capsule, a joke, a tradition, and occasionally a delicious surprise. You're following in the footsteps of centuries of bakers who understood that the best fruit desserts are the ones that make use of what you've got. Whether you're making a traditional booze-soaked version or this lighter dried fruit bread, you're part of a baking tradition that goes back thousands of years. And unlike Johnny Carson's immortal fruitcake, this one will actually get eaten. 

A Lighter Take: Dried Fruit Bread (Cake?) 

If you like the idea of fruitcake but find traditional versions too heavy or too sweet or too boozy, try this recipe. This version honors fruitcake's original purpose but skips the candied fruit for the natural sweetness of dried fruit. And I really love this recipe because it's the perfect solution for all those random containers of dried fruit that accumulate in the pantry. That quarter-cup of dried cherries left over from scones, the dates you bought for one recipe, those apricots that are starting to get too chewy, toss them all in. The recipe is forgiving and actually benefits from a mix of whatever dried fruit you have on hand. 

Assorted packages of dried fruit (Photo caption: Paige Weisskirch, used with permission).

Recipe adapted from James Beard’s Persimmon Bread via David Lebovitz 
 
Makes 2 loaves 

Ingredients: 

Dry Ingredients: 

3½ cups (440g) all-purpose flour, sifted  

1½ tsp salt 

2 tsp baking soda 

½ tsp ground nutmeg 

1 tsp ground cardamom 

Mix-ins: 

1 cup (approx 4oz or 120g) pecans, toasted and chopped  

2 cups (approx 11oz or 300g) dried fruit, chopped (apricots, raisins, dates, figs, craisins or whatever you have)** 

Wet Ingredients: 

2 to 2½ cups (400-500g) sugar* 

Bake: 

7. Divide batter evenly between the two prepared pans (each should be about 3/4 full). 

8. Bake for 65 - 75 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (internal temperature should reach 195-200°F). 

9. Check at the 45-minute mark. If tops are browning too quickly, tent loosely with aluminum foil. 

Cool and serve: 

10. Remove from oven and let loaves cool in pans for 10 minutes. 

11. Turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely before slicing. 

Storage & Serving Tips: 

Better with time: The flavor deepens after 1-2 days. Store wrapped in plastic wrap at cool room temperature for up to 3 days or refrigerate for up to a week. 

Freezer-friendly: Wrap tightly in plastic, then foil. Freezes for up to 3 months. 

Flexible formula: Swap fruit purées or dried fruits based on what you have on hand, this recipe is forgiving.