Oh, the joy and happiness from your own garden. Just like the Fiskars (the brand of famous Finnish garden tools) ad said, happiness is found in your own garden. I won’t argue with that—I completely agree.

After a long wait, it’s time for the first harvest—rhubarb. I could have probably harvested it earlier; it grew to nearly gigantic proportions with countless leaves. But it was only now that I felt inspired, basking in the warmth of a beautiful summer evening.

We have two large and seemingly old clusters of rhubarb growing in the yard. They’re so big that they’ve started taking over space from the path that runs alongside them. We have this path because a large part of the lawn has been, and will continue to be, left uncut. There are all sorts of old perennials and meadow flowers growing there, and I can’t bring myself to mow it, even at the risk of the yard looking a bit like the grounds of an abandoned house. Biodiversity above all. Plus, the bees and other pollinators are having a nonstop feast in our yard.

I harvested both rhubarb plants all at once. Afterward, I was given a tip that you don’t even need a knife to cut rhubarb; you can simply twist and snap them off. I also learned that you don’t need to peel the stalks. When making juice, it’s better not to peel them, as it can cause the juice to lose its beautiful red color. Luckily, I knew this before I started peeling my haul. There was so much of it that I had to carry a large birch bark basket full into the kitchen, with an armful of fresh, tart rhubarb stalks on top of that.

After rinsing, I chopped the stalks and put them in the largest pot I could find with some water. Most of the time went into chopping since I had so much to work with. By the time I got to making the juice and jam, the evening was already well underway.

There are plenty of recipes for rhubarb juice and jam. I ended up combining several of them a little bit. After all, you have to create your own tradition—it’s no fun doing it exactly the same way as everyone else.

Here’s how I made my rhubarb juice, and at the same time, rhubarb jam:

I bring the rhubarb to a boil in a pot with about a third of it filled with water. I add a vanilla bean I once brought back from Kenya and a cinnamon stick. Oh, the aroma they create! I highly recommend adding some kind of spice to the juice; it complements the simple rhubarb flavor perfectly. Instead of vanilla and cinnamon, star anise also works really well.

Once all the rhubarb pieces have softened, I strain the mixture through a pasta strainer. The pure rhubarb juice flows into the clean pot, while the so-called mash—everything that’s not liquid—remains in the strainer. I tried pressing as much juice as I could through the strainer with a wooden spoon, but the mash was still fairly watery. At least the jam will have some flavor left in it.

I placed the juice back on the stove and the mash in a separate pot on the adjacent burner. As the juice heats up, nearly to a boil, I add regular sugar, stirring until it fully dissolves. The amount was suggested in the juice recipes, but I ended up adjusting it to taste. For a large four-liter pot of juice, I used nearly a kilogram of sugar. With rhubarb, you can quickly tell if there’s not enough sugar—it’s that tart.

I let the juice cool for a bit. Meanwhile, I heat the mash until it’s steaming and add jam sugar, using the same method as with the juice—adjusting based on taste. I let the jam simmer for about 15 minutes before setting it aside to cool.

Before bottling the juice, I add citric acid. I remove about a coffee cup's worth of juice, mix in about a teaspoon of citric acid, and then pour the cup back into the juice pot. I hope the citric acid will help the juice last a little longer than the couple of weeks other recipes promised.

I bottle the juice in bottles I’ve heated in the oven. The juice turned out to be rhubarb juice concentrate. I’m going to pour some of it directly into a jug, as I know I’ll want to sip on it during warm summer days straight from the fridge. As for the bottles, I’ll store them in a cool, dark place, hoping they’ll bring a touch of summer’s fragrance and warmth to the dark evenings of fall or winter.

The jam has been cooling in the pot for a while now. I spoon it into clean, hot glass jars that I had previously boiled. (By the way, they’re old feta cheese jars, which I find quite beautiful when cleaned and reused.) I fill the jars with as much jam as possible and seal them with lids. The jam settles a bit, but by filling the jars to the brim, I’m minimizing any possible contaminants that could cause the jam to spoil quickly.

The first jar was opened the very next morning to top off some porridge. We’ll see if any of these actually make it through the winter without being eaten. Luckily, there are more preserves and jams coming for the winter. I might share more about those when the main harvest season arrives.

Voilà! Thank you for visiting Sanna’s kitchen. It may not have exact instructions or measured recipes, and I apologize for that. But we ended up with some very tasty juice and jam, all by experimenting. The head chef encourages you to try and taste as you go—that’s how something new is always created, and that’s what brings the most joy and happiness.

Wishing you joyful cooking and summer days filled with the taste of juice!