Remember making sauerkraut? Cowboy catsup?!!! Green tomato relish? Blueberry jam? Pears? Garlic dill pickles?, I asked my husband the other day.
Great memories encompassed each canning endeavor; we made some delicious and uncomplicated foods, my husband and I.
As I recall, the first thing we committed to can was pears. It was my project but it evolved into a "we" project. I'm not sure how exactly but back in the day, that guy was glued to me! We bought a box of pears from eastern Washington, the small town of Naches, where Rod bargained for a better price. Home to quart-size Ball jars, canning bath tub, and canning wrench; store to purchase lids, rings, and extra sugar. We were in business!
Our home-canned pears were peak of the season fresh and gorgeous. We were so proud; the family got gifts of ribbon-wrapped pears (whether they wanted it or not.)
Following the footsteps of Rod's mother and father, we planted a good size garden. Radishes, beets, carrots, the Native American trilogy of beans, corn, and squash, garlic, onions, potatoes in a stack of tires, cabbage, marigolds for insect control, pumpkins, heritage planting of red runner beans, dahlias, and a crazy-looking vegetable called kohlrabi, all populated our first garden. Sadly, we had a bumper crop of kohlrabi and knew not what to do with it. The cabbage was in short supply thus back to eastern Washington to augment.
Procuring Madeline's giant crock and cabbage grater, Rod introduced me to the old country way of making sauerkraut. Layering cabbage and salt into the crock, topping it with a plate and a clean, heavy rock and leaving it to breakdown over several weeks in a cool basement. Rod would check in on it, skim off the scum, and report on the stink. When it was ready, we set to canning it. One taste is all it took to convert me. By God, I am a German!
My first foray into dill pickles resulted in a tasty, yet slimy disappointment. It took me a few years and a tutor to try again; my friend and Packwood neighbor, Cathy Grose taught me a better way and we added jalapenos to some and garlic to others. We shared those with my dad and brother. What a delight! I loved sharing the fruits of my labor with family; impressing them with my abilities.
One summer day, I went blueberry picking with my husband Rod's eldest brother, David, and his grandson, my nephew-in-law, Willie, to Linbo's Blueberry Farm in Puyallup. Sunhat strapped on, white, gallon picking buckets at the ready, we descend on the orderly rows of blueberry-rich bushes. Sunshine-drenched July day spent companionably with picking partners while collecting fresh berries to make blueberry jam. What a day it was! Of course, Rod joined me in making the gorgeous, purply-blue jam in squat pint jars shaped like berries, actually grapes but who's to notice the difference!?
One year we planted tomato plants all along the side of the house after getting a bumper crop the previous year. Wouldn't you know, we didn't have enough sunshine to ripen; rather than lose the whole crop, I set upon making green tomato relish after finding a recipe online. It turned out rather good and, of course, everybody got some.
We were given a cookbook by my sister, Dawn, a beautifully illustrated tome, Marlborough Cookbook, containing cowboy-style or old-time diner-style fare. In this, we found a recipe for Cowboy Catsup, a spirited, tangy marriage of tomatoes and peppers. This spawned a search for old-fashioned wired stopper-topped bottles, at a decent price. We never landed the bottles, but we managed to make the best tasting catsup ever! We were hesitant to share this batch, but did anyway. This was our final canning endeavour.
Great memories encompassed each canning endeavor; we made some delicious and uncomplicated foods, my husband and I.
As I recall, the first thing we committed to can was pears. It was my project but it evolved into a "we" project. I'm not sure how exactly but back in the day, that guy was glued to me! We bought a box of pears from eastern Washington, the small town of Naches, where Rod bargained for a better price. Home to quart-size Ball jars, canning bath tub, and canning wrench; store to purchase lids, rings, and extra sugar. We were in business!
Our home-canned pears were peak of the season fresh and gorgeous. We were so proud; the family got gifts of ribbon-wrapped pears (whether they wanted it or not.)
Following the footsteps of Rod's mother and father, we planted a good size garden. Radishes, beets, carrots, the Native American trilogy of beans, corn, and squash, garlic, onions, potatoes in a stack of tires, cabbage, marigolds for insect control, pumpkins, heritage planting of red runner beans, dahlias, and a crazy-looking vegetable called kohlrabi, all populated our first garden. Sadly, we had a bumper crop of kohlrabi and knew not what to do with it. The cabbage was in short supply thus back to eastern Washington to augment.
Procuring Madeline's giant crock and cabbage grater, Rod introduced me to the old country way of making sauerkraut. Layering cabbage and salt into the crock, topping it with a plate and a clean, heavy rock and leaving it to breakdown over several weeks in a cool basement. Rod would check in on it, skim off the scum, and report on the stink. When it was ready, we set to canning it. One taste is all it took to convert me. By God, I am a German!
My first foray into dill pickles resulted in a tasty, yet slimy disappointment. It took me a few years and a tutor to try again; my friend and Packwood neighbor, Cathy Grose taught me a better way and we added jalapenos to some and garlic to others. We shared those with my dad and brother. What a delight! I loved sharing the fruits of my labor with family; impressing them with my abilities.
One summer day, I went blueberry picking with my husband Rod's eldest brother, David, and his grandson, my nephew-in-law, Willie, to Linbo's Blueberry Farm in Puyallup. Sunhat strapped on, white, gallon picking buckets at the ready, we descend on the orderly rows of blueberry-rich bushes. Sunshine-drenched July day spent companionably with picking partners while collecting fresh berries to make blueberry jam. What a day it was! Of course, Rod joined me in making the gorgeous, purply-blue jam in squat pint jars shaped like berries, actually grapes but who's to notice the difference!?
One year we planted tomato plants all along the side of the house after getting a bumper crop the previous year. Wouldn't you know, we didn't have enough sunshine to ripen; rather than lose the whole crop, I set upon making green tomato relish after finding a recipe online. It turned out rather good and, of course, everybody got some.
We were given a cookbook by my sister, Dawn, a beautifully illustrated tome, Marlborough Cookbook, containing cowboy-style or old-time diner-style fare. In this, we found a recipe for Cowboy Catsup, a spirited, tangy marriage of tomatoes and peppers. This spawned a search for old-fashioned wired stopper-topped bottles, at a decent price. We never landed the bottles, but we managed to make the best tasting catsup ever! We were hesitant to share this batch, but did anyway. This was our final canning endeavour.
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