Girl Meets Dirt Archipelago Preserves are inspired by the long history of orchard keeping on Orcas Island...
and a craving for the highest quality, locally sourced, organic fruit preserves nature and careful craft can provide. Our throwback jams are made in an old-school style that emphasizes structure and pure, ripe, naturally grown fruit. Our ingredient lists are short and sweet. We don't use commercial pectin and rely on time & concentration for set.
We believe island heritage fruit speaks for itself. We pair single varietal fruit, many from trees that have been producing for over a century, with unrefined organic cane sugar, a squeeze of organic lemon, and classically prepare it by hand--in seasoned copper pans -- in our island kitchen.
Gifting good taste
Respect for motherhood- in its many forms-runs deep at Girl Meets Dirt. While "mothers" deserve so much more, our boxes-o-sweets are a thoughtful gesture. Give the mom in your life the gift of a season past and present, tidied up with a bow, to thank her for nourishing the roots that keep us standing tall...
This is a story about the fruit and the alchemy that happens when it meets human hands – the alchemy that touches us no less. And has for centuries. We’re humbled by tradition -- that one heirloom tree provided bounty to untold families over more than a century floors us. Gravitas in fruit & sugar. That’s what this is about. Now get eating.
A Thanksgiving story
So much can happen in just 3 years. 3 years ago, I summoned my extended family to our Thanksgiving table, filled not with a brined and roasted turkey, homemade cranberry sauce, buttery mashed potatoes and bacon glazed brussel sprouts...but with cases upon cases of the inaugural Girl Meets Dirt jams - handmade by me, with local fruit handpicked by me, in a borrowed kitchen, with all the love I could muster - with all the love I couldn't expend on a little baby, which I so desperately wanted...
Girl Meets Dirt was born of the land. Grew limbs through storms, gained strength with rain, knowledge with history, rootedness with dirt under her fingernails. Seedlings rose, and bore fruit. And she watched, curious & hungry, and learned the art of stretching bounty into winter. This is where the story ends (it always ends) but begins anew – with worn muddy boots and kitchen clogs – a journey in steps, stems, pear seeds, plum pits, and apple flesh. A journey to the fruit of the matter & back, on one island farmette.