Just can it! If you grow it, that is ...
Patience pays off when trying age-old canning technique on vegetables, fruits
Blame it on the fear-of-botulism thing, but I shied away from canning (despite its intrigue) for years.
But each summer, as my garden's bounty arrived all at once, I cursed my cowardice, freezing pasta sauces and pureeing endless vats of gazpacho instead.
(Jean Lachat/Sun-Times)
(Jean Lachat/Sun-Times)
PHOTO GALLERY
Canning: Step by step
A jar-lifter
Tongs
Mason jars with new lids and rings. I like the Ball brand best.
A canning funnel, which is helpful but not requisite
A ladle
Jennifer Olvera
This year, determined to get past my angst the only way I knew how, I backed myself into a corner. Then, I asked Paul Virant -- the nothing-like-granny chef and owner of Vie in Western Springs -- to show me the ropes.
Not surprisingly, he made it look easy.
"I really think people make it out to be harder than it is," Virant said, unearthing a stain-splotched journal filled with recipes.
Sheepishly, I contributed my still-unopened package of mason jars. Virant's pickling liquid, a neutral brew to which herbs and spices can be added, served as the base.
"If you want more zing, just cut back on the sugar," Virant noted, popping a dozen clean jars into a massive pot of bubbling water.
Meanwhile, the lids and rings boiled away in a separate pot. We plucked them from the water and began packing crisp, farm-fresh snow peas along with fiery dried peppers, lemon peel and herbs into the vessels.
"Yes, you have to be careful about germs," Virant continued, wiping the rims with a clean, soapy cloth. "But high-acid foods like pickles or sugary jams are pretty safe."
We sealed the jars and placed them in boiling water for 30 minutes, which is Virant's rule of thumb. Once removed, the lids suctioned in place one by one, and I began to understand the satisfaction -- the sense of self-sufficiency -- that comes with mastering this craft.
Did things go this smoothly at home? Not the first time around.
I hunted down tools for the trade. (Try mom and pop hardware stores.)
I pitted cherries for more than an hour, my walls, shirt and fingers juice-stained.
I waited forever and a day for my cafeteria-sized pot to boil.
Then, I burned myself -- mildly -- while sterilizing the jars. When I forgot to wipe the jars before sealing them, I decided to call it a day.
"If at first you don't succeed ... try, try again," I reassured myself.
The next morning, I did just that. By the time my lids began to pop, pop, pop, I found myself feeling strangely exhilarated.
"You'll know if something went awry," promised Chris Pandel, chef and owner of the Bristol, 2152 N. Damen, whom I later consulted. "If there's mold, darkening or discoloration of fruit or vegetables or air bubbles -- especially small ones -- toss it."
"And if it smells funky, it has to go," added Karen Solomon, author of the recently released Jam It, Pickle It, Cure It and Other Cooking Projects (Ten Speed Press, $24.95).
Solomon went on to note you should never use almost-spent fruit and veggies.
"Start with the best," Solomon said. "If it's not good enough to eat it out of hand, it won't improve in three months' time."
Other than that, I'm learning the sky is the limit. I might can peach, thyme and black pepper preserves. Perhaps I'll pair watermelon rind pickles with crackly-skinned roast pork.
As for brandied prunes? Someday soon -- I swear -- they'll please me to no end.
Jennifer Olvera is a Brookfield free-lance writer.