Can You Put Up With Me?

I just managed to get two puns into one title. Call me done for the day.

Just kidding…I’m not done, it’s not even 9am yet. I have been making my own jam for a couple years now, all in my mom’s kitchen under her strict guidance, as I never fully paid attention to what we were doing. I just chopped and stirred as she told me to, and somehow, we came up with delicious, safe jam made from local fruits.

But this summer, I have had a ridiculous need to really can. To put up. To apparently become a house-wife from the 1950′s, complete with apron and round-toe pumps. I had never even heard of the term putting up until I started doing a little bit of research, and now I love it. It sounds so cool, so retro and vintage. A few weeks ago I picked fresh strawberries, and turned them into 25 jars of jam, which I figured would last us forever, but Jon has assured me that I did not go overboard, and that 25 jars is the perfect amount for one year (he was serious, which is baffling). Last week I bought local peaches, plucked a few jalapenos from my garden, and made peach jalapeno jam. Yesterday I bought some more peaches and pickling cucumbers, and last night, after P went to bed, I canned for the first time in my own kitchen, all by myself. I made spiced peaches and dill pickles. The peaches were waterbath canned, and should last at least a year, as long as I did it right. The pickles are fridge pickles, so they will only last a few weeks in the fridge, which is fine with me since I will probably eat them in a day once they’re ready. Next up, I have big plans to turn all the tomatoes that are growing in my back yard into sauces and soups, although right now, they are all green and I’m not sure if they are planning on ripening or not.

The pickles only took me about 30 minutes from start to finish, and since there wasn’t any serious cooking or timing, I managed to take a few pictures. That didn’t happen with the peaches. I was too worried about the possibility of poisoning my family in six months when we open the jars, so I put the camera down and really paid attention to what I was doing (here’s hoping that worked).

I really hope they taste as good as they look! The pickles were local and organic from the market, the garlic was grown almost across the street from my parent’s house, and the dill was from my herb garden this year. I may be a food snob (my sister thinks I am, although without knowing it, she’s just as guilty as I am) but no one can argue that food from another state/country tastes just as good as fresh, local food plucked right off the vine. They just can’t. And I think that’s why I feel the need to preserve it. To offer myself a glimmer of hope on a freezing, slushy February day, in the way of a newly opened can of homemade tomato sauce or sliced peaches.