It has been a while since I have posted. Life has become complicated in unusual ways and has taken my time away from my pursuit of all things food. In my last post I reported on the scuffle with my chickens. My little white cutey has recovered but sadly we were unable to put her back into the coop with the other chickens. They hate her and want her dead. We decided to take the other leghorn out and put them in their own little apartment next to the coop. They are happier together and yet sad at being rejected by the popular girls. It made for a fun project for the kids and I and now have two separate coops. The great news is when it is time to rotate the flock, we will have a little home for our chicks. The large, angry, New Hampshire Red that caused all the carnage has continued her life of crime and has murdered two little sparrows who made the mistake of getting in the coop with the chickens for their food and water. She is a mean bitty and I am not sure I want to eat a homicidal chicken; karma or something.
My usual cooking adventures have subsided because canning has taken over my life. My cousin made a funny comment about how we can and can for a month or two and our families live on cold cereal so that we can all eat well for the rest of the year.
Canning is in my blood. My grandmother taught me how and I haven't looked back. I find it such an organic experience. I come from strong, independent, pioneer stock and feel so connected to those women in my family who preceded me when I am cooking from scratch. Canning is the culmination of months of planning and preparing. Planning the garden, deciding where to go to get the things I don't grow, deciding on the timing, etc.
I planted my garden in early March and impatiently waited to see the first signs of life. I sprouted my seeds inside because it was still too cold here in the Rocky Mountains to plant outside and couldn't wait to put their little roots into the freshly tilled earth. The soil was perfect, and the weather cooperated, and they all died within the week.
The irony of gardening for me is that nothing I plant grows. However, all the seeds left from canning the season before sprout up and I get a garden I wasn't expecting. Divine providence plays a role in my success because I always seem to grow those things I end up needing most.
It is like garden Christmas at my house around June when we figure out what all the plants are that are coming up. This year I was surprised with more tomato plants then I knew what to do with. It has been wonderful playing with all things tomato. Tomato sauce, tomato juice, whole tomatoes, sundried tomatoes, and more. I have a couple of random squash plants too that I am waiting on to show their substance. My son planted our sprouted potatoes from the winter and it will be interesting to dig them up in another month when the tomatoes are done. The tomatoes have consumed my garden now and I can't see the potato plants anymore.
Canning is the hardest but most satisfying work I do outside of teaching my children. There is just something about taking that peach and working with it to preserve it for the days when peaches won't be available. Currently I have peaches, tomatoes, blended fruit pulp-for fruit roll ups, and tomatillos awaiting my magic hands to make them into something delicious. So far this year I have been able to roast and bottle Anaheim Chilies, bottle peaches and peach preserves, steam juice plums and bottle juice, make fruit roll ups with the left over pulp from the juicing, bottle tomatoes, and freeze a ton of stuff.
My friends and neighbors call, "I have too much (fill in the food) do you want it?" I just can't say no. I am a glutin for punishment because I just can't turn away food. There is something about the bounty of food this time of year that fills my soul. More than money in the bank, having food on my shelves and knowing my hands created it makes me fill like the best homemaker that ever lived. I realize in our "woman power" world being a homemaker is not high on the list of achievements girls are encouraged to pursue, but I have never felt more like a woman than when I am ensuring the survival of my family with food. Buying it at the store isn't the same as using your intellect, strength, and ability to endure to put food on the shelves of your home. I am not ashamed to admit that I like to go down to the storage room
from time to time and just wonder at the full bottles on the shelves.
They look beautiful. It also turns me into a bit of a food Nazi because
my kids want to eat it all the first week it is there! There is an innate connection women have to nurturing others and we do it so beautifully with food. I love when my husband returns at the end of the day from work and I excitedly pull him into the kitchen to show him what I created that day. It is more rewarding then showing your friends your new outfit or even buying new furniture. Creation with our hands is the highest form of accomplishment. Who doesn't love standing back from a project and saying, "I did that."?
Canning is hard. It requires hours at the sink washing and peeling. Sterilizing jars and cooking over the hot stove. I go to sleep at night sore from the work of the day and wake to the magnificence of colorful food all packed into jars that have cooled and sealed overnight. There are days I look around my kitchen and wonder if I will have the energy to continue. That is when I dig a little deeper and dive in. I understand more fully now the benefit of living with other neighbors and family on farms. The women would all come together at harvest time to preserve the food for the coming year. What an amazing experience to spend your days learning and laughing with those you love the most and providing sustenance for your families. We have lost that connectedness in our modern society. We aren't as connected to each other or the land anymore. It is something I crave in my soul.
Canning is pure heaven to me. Nothing worthwhile come easily and this is so worthwhile.
