Everything we make, by the jar.

Wild beach plums from the dunes, cooked down in small copper pots. Tart first, floral after.

Raw, unfiltered honey from hives parked in the blueberry barrens. Bright and floral, the way the patch smells in June.

The jam, the honey, the bay salt, and the caramel. Four jars, boxed by hand.

Bog cranberries cooked barely sweet, with a little orange zest to round them off.

A friend taps a stand of maples up the cape and boils the sap over a wood fire. We bottle what he can spare.

Raked from drying bay water a few pans at a time. Thin flakes that crunch, then vanish.

Applewood-smoked chilies, garlic, and a little of our bay salt, steeped low and slow. A spoonful is enough.

Slow-cooked caramel finished with flaky bay salt. Pour it over ice cream, apples, or a spoon. Back soon.