93 years of pastry, patience, and pure deliciousness
There’s something enduring about a family recipe. It’s not just food; it’s a map of a life lived well, seasoned with joy and sadness, love and loss, generations of laughter, and the bittersweet passage of time. For 93 years, my mother-in-law—Nana, as everyone affectionately calls her—has been the keeper of one such treasure: her famous jam tarts. A tart? No, not quite. A cake? Almost, but not really. Nana’s Jam Tarts defy categorisation, and maybe that’s what makes them so captivating.
At first glance, they seem simple, almost deceptively so—small, round treats that fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. But behind their unassuming appearance lies a tradition as rich as the strawberry jam nestled inside them. These tarts have seen more holidays, more laughter-filled kitchens, and more plates cleaned of every last crumb than I could ever count. To understand them, you have to understand Nana herself, a woman who’s seen the world shift and change but never lost the core of who she is.
Nana was baking long before Instagram had people worrying about whether their pie had the right kind of lattice, before celebrity chefs were ever a thing. Her kitchen is where real cooking happens—the kind that isn’t about the prettiest presentation or the most exotic ingredients, but about taste, about memories, and about heart. Each year, when the leaves begin to turn and the chill creeps into the air, she gets out the worn, flour-dusted apron and begins her ritual.
There’s a kind of poetry to watching her work, a rhythm to the rolling pin on dough, the careful lining of the cupcake tins with circles of pastry—thinner than you’d think, yet somehow always just thick enough to hold everything together. Each case gets its spoonful of strawberry jam, bright and jewel-like, filling the kitchen with the sweet scent of ripe fruit, a splash of summer in the depths of winter. Then she fills the cases to the brim with cake batter, light and golden, just waiting to puff up and turn into something magical.
When those tarts go in the oven, there’s a kind of hush that falls over the kitchen. Nana’s face—lined with the marks of nearly a century—relaxes, her eyes watchful but softened, waiting for the transformation she’s seen thousands of times. It’s that kind of patience you only get from doing something you love so many times that you could do it blindfolded, from knowing in your bones that good things take time.
Her kitchen, in those moments, feels like a time capsule. There’s no rush, no frantic need to be anywhere else, just the slow rise of the cake batter and the way the jam starts to bubble up at the edges. It’s not about perfection. It’s about the anticipation of what’s to come—the family who will gather, the laughter that will fill the room, the stories that will be shared, the memories that will be made over cups of tea and the sound of a knife sliding through those tarts, cracking the white icing that’s hardened just right.
Nana’s icing is its own story—a simple mixture of sugar and water, stirred by hand until it reaches the consistency she knows by heart. It’s a finishing touch that might seem unnecessary to some, but to Nana, it’s as essential as the jam. Without it, the tarts just wouldn’t be hers. And that’s what makes them special: they aren’t just jam tarts; they’re her jam tarts. They carry her signature, her spirit, and her indomitable sense of tradition.
She’s not one to brag, Nana, but you can see the pride in her eyes when those tarts come out of the oven, golden and steaming, the scent filling the whole house. It’s a pride that’s not about the accomplishment of baking but about the continuity of it—the fact that, year after year, she’s still here, still standing, still making those damned delicious tarts. It’s about knowing that when the world around you has gone mad, you can still pull out your favorite tin, flour your hands, and create something real.
Her jam tarts have seen it all. They’ve been served at weddings, at family reunions, at the kind of long Christmas dinners that stretch late into the night, with a fire crackling in the background and wine glasses clinking. They’ve survived toddlers with sticky fingers, teenagers who are ‘too cool’ to care about family gatherings, and adults who have come back, humbled and hungry for the comforts of their childhood. Nana’s tarts have been there through every moment of joy and sorrow—baked with the same care, the same love, the same defiance in the face of time.
They’re not fancy. There are no shortcuts in Nana’s recipe, no “improvements” to be made. And that’s the beauty of it. Every jam tart is made from scratch, from rolling out the dough to the final brush of icing. There’s no rush, no cutting corners, and no modern gadget that can replicate the way her hands shape the pastry. It’s not about convenience; it’s about doing things the right way because the right way is worth it.
Love listening to Nana‘s stories about the first time she made jam tarts for her own children, long before any of us came into the picture. You get a sense that, for her, these tarts are more than a recipe—they’re a lifeline, a connection to the people she’s loved, the places she’s been, and the years she’s survived. They’re her way of telling the world, “I’m still here. I’m still standing. I’m still baking.”
So when you take a bite of one of Nana’s Jam Tarts, you’re not just tasting sugar, pastry, and jam. You’re tasting history. You’re tasting perseverance. You’re tasting a lifetime of memories, all baked into something small enough to hold in your hand, something so deceptively simple and yet so utterly profound. You’re tasting love in its most enduring, sweetest form. And for that, we all owe Nana a toast. Here’s to 93 years of life, laughter, and jam tarts that will outlast us all—because some things are just too good to ever fade away.
Nana’s Jam Tarts
Ingredients
For the pastry:
- 1.25 cups flour
- 2 tsp white sugar
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 8 tbsp 115g butter, cut into little cubes
- 2.5 tbsp
For the cake:
- 4 eggs
- 1 cup butter room temperature
- 1 cup sugar
- 1.5 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 tsp salt
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 2 tbsp vanilla ice cold water
Putting it all together…
- Pastry recipe above or quick version buy ready made
- Cake mix recipe above or quick version grab a cake mix in a box
- Jam I like strawberry but whatever your favourite will work
- 1 cup icing sugar
- 2 tbsp milk or heavy cream
- 1/2 tsp vanilla
Instructions
For the pastry:
- Place flour, sugar and salt in a food processor. Pulse to combine. Two pulses is usually enough.
- Scatter butter across the surface. Pulse until the largest pieces are the size of peas.
- With the motor running on low, pour 2.5 tbsp of water into the tube feeder. Keep blitzing for 10 seconds until crumbs form. Pinch between fingers – they should stick and form a dough.
- Tip crumbs out onto work surface, bring together into dome (don’t knead). Pat into 2cm thick disc.
- Wrap in clingfilm then refrigerate for an hour.
For the cake:
- In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt and baking powder. Set aside.
- In a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, cream the butter. Add sugar in and mix until light and fluffy. Scrape the bowl down and beat a few more seconds.
- Add the eggs in one at a time while mixing at medium speed. Scrape the bowl down and beat until fully incorporated.
- Add the sour cream and vanilla. Mix until incorporated. Scrape the bowl down.
- Add the flour mixture in and mix until combined. Scrape the bowl down and use your spatula to mix in any pockets of flour or butter that remain.
Putting it all together…
- Pastry (recipe above or quick version buy ready made)
- Cake mix (recipe above or quick version grab a cake mix in a box)
- Jam (I like strawberry but whatever your favourite will work)
- Preheat oven at 350 degrees F or 180 decrees C.
- Roll out the pastry and cut circles that are a bit bigger than your cupcake tin circles and press into the cupcake tin.
- Put a small amount of jam into the pressed pastry and spread along the bottom.
- Fill the cupcake tin with cake mix and bake in preheated over for 22-25 minutes.
- Allow to cool completely
- In the meantime, whisk together the icing sugar, 2 tbsp milk and vanilla. When the cake has cooled, drizzle the icing onto the tops of the cakey jam tarts and ENJOY!!
