Dessert Recipes to Make With Jam

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in my grandmother’s lap, holding a jelly doughnut. I’d lick the jiggly red sweetness from the center, then hand her back the empty shell. Without the jelly, a doughnut was just a lump of dough. Small child-me would lick the jam off my morning toast, too, and when there was no other dessert, I’d dip my spoon directly into jam jar.

Now that I’ve grown up, I learned to appreciate the entire doughnut. But I’ll still dip a spoon into the jam jar, especially in winter, when those syrupy bits of raspberry and plum can be the closest we get to the vibrant taste of ripe summer fruit.

Historically speaking, jams, jellies and marmalades were some of the only ways to eat fruit in winter in temperate, nontropical zones. But up until the late 19th century, sugar was so expensive that jam was a luxury. It was more economical to preserve fruit by drying it. Sweet-toothed Alice in Wonderland had to suffer jam tomorrow and jam yesterday, never jam today. A spoonful of jam was a once in a while treat, indeed.

Now that sugar is cheap and jam has become quotidian, it’s lost its aura of specialness. But that doesn’t make it any less thrilling to eat. Well-made jams can be viscerally evocative. A smear of glistening golden jelly in February makes me dream of apricots from sun-drenched orchards in July. Some people bring back snow globes and T-shirts when they travel. I lug home jars of jam, which fill the fridge as sticky reminders of trips gone by.

At some point, though, when my jam collection grows to the point of edging out space for milk, it’s time to cull. And that’s when the baking begins, a buttery rush of tarts, cakes, breads, buns and scones, all suffused with jam. Along with the perennial favorites, I always try a few new things to add to my jammy repertory. This year, it was a citrusy pudding and a one-bowl cake.

The pudding is a riff on a classic lemon pudding cake. Made with beaten egg whites and plenty of lemon juice and zest, this magical dessert separates into layers as it bakes. The bottom turns into a yolk-rich custard that’s silky and smooth. Then the top rises into a fluffy soufflé as light as a cloud.

To add color and sweetness, I scattered dollops of blueberry jam across the top, which settle into pretty purple puddles speckling the top. If you can time this to serve it warm from the oven, you’ll be rewarded with the most ethereal texture. But it’s also excellent at room temperature, or even chilled, in which case it takes on a denser texture similar to lemon curd.

Filled thickly with jam, dusted with cinnamon sugar and baked in a Bundt pan, the cake looks like a giant doughnut, a supersize version of the jelly doughnuts I ate in my grandma’s lap. Easily mixed in one bowl, it has a tender, caky crumb that’s scented with nutmeg and vanilla. And its jammy core helps it stay moist for several days. Serve slices plain, with coffee, tea or glasses of milk, or cover it with whipped cream for a festive, simple-to-make dessert.

You can use any variety of jam for both desserts, whatever is open and in need of finishing up. But thick, darker-hued jams (blueberry, blackberry, raspberry) look the best, offering a contrast to the beige-ish yellows of the pudding and cake. Avoid jellies, which can melt in the oven’s heat, disappearing entirely from view.

And jam’s bright colors are as much of their appeal as their vivid flavors. Savor them often until summer returns.