Canning Memories

I love to can.  There I have said it.  I know it is old fashion, but I get pleasure from making jams, jellies, pickles, preserving peaches, tomatoes, etc. 

With that being said, gardening is an essential tool to my canning process.  I hate to garden.  I truly hate to garden.  I don't like pulling weeds, tilling the dirt, moving the rocks or removing the rocks, planting the seeds, fighting the bees for the beans, or anything at all that goes with gardening.

Jeff was the gardener.  He loved to plan the garden and do all of the things that come with the garden until we moved north and we live on rocks, but that will be another blog.

As I got my supplies out and meticulously cleaned them for the event, memories of other canning/food processing events came to mind.

My mom was not a canner, but she did make the best peach jam I ever ate and showed me how to put up peaches. She made my father pickles once, putting something extra in them to make sure they were crunchy. Unfortunately the extra something was alum and she misread the recipe and put the amount for the whole batch in each jar. Over the next few weeks the jars exploded down in the basement and she never canned again.

My Aunt Louise canned everything, sort of like me, only much better.  She had a huge crock down in the basement for lime pickles and bread and butter pickles.  It was hard as a child to push that lid back, but I would and dip my hand in pulling out the not quite ready pickles and munch away.  She would know where I was if I disappeared from my kitchen stool.

Our friend Bobby had sweet corn.  He would call to let us know when it was ready to for us to pick.  We were at a family birthday party (actually Ryan's and mine) and the call came.  We  gathered our nephew Zak and up to the farm we went.  The boys headed into the corn patch.  I opened the trunk, mind you the trunk was huge.  With in a short time period, those two fools filled the trunk.  Now it was approaching 5 p.m. and we all know the best time to put up produce is immediately after it is picked.  Home we flew, called in the troupes (Jeff's mom and dad).  We all shucked corn until we got enough cleaned that I could start blanching it and Shirley cutting it off the bone.  Jeff and his dad were laughing in the yard and Shirley and I in the house.  Memories.  We did 72 quarts of corn for the freezer that night, but most importantly we did memories.


Another adventure came after a long fun day with my mom. I walked into my home and there were tomatoes.  Tomatoes on the counter, tomatoes in coolers, tomatoes on bags, and a note from my honey saying Bobby called.  Of course the man also had to leave to go to his Friday and Saturday night job of playing in the band.  There I sat with my tomatoes.  After a little thought and fretting, I got my sleeves rolled up and picked up the phone to call my canning mentor, Shelley.  With the phone on my shoulder (no cordless or speaker phone back then), I visited with her through 30 quarts of juice and stewed tomatoes.

Shelley is a special friend.  We met at the Ritz in Clear Lake, she being a Ventura girl and I a Laker.  She was the set up girl and I the potato girl.  We hit it off and have been friends for life.  Life has thrown Shelley some curve balls and I thought cancer was going to take my friend.  Unfortunately it has taken her eyesight so she is not able to can or garden any more, but as I got my canning weapons out yesterday and got the first batch of jelly cooking, I picked up the phone and called.  Now with the speaker phone I laughed and visited with Shelley all the while as my cranberry jelly was cooking. She is an amazing woman.  She is learning braille.  She calls her recorder Wilson.  She still takes in all of the stray animals in Ventura heights.  She still knows more about canning than I will ever know and shares with me while I put up my jars and glow in the fact that I have just provided another homemade treat for my family and friends.

Yes canning always gives me memories along with good food for family and friends.