Ink & Penstemon

It’s harvest season, which for many translates as canning season. Despite the resurgent popularity of preserving, few put up their harvest in cans. Many don’t want to bother with the trouble and expense of purchasing aluminum cans and the necessary equipment. Most freeze their fruits and veg. Some like me still put up their food in glass jars, but for whatever reason, still refer to it as canning. Maybe it’s because “jarring” just sounds depressing.

Whatever you choose to call it, I am smack in the sticky middle of it. Sixteen quarts pears are done, except for those I picked up for cutting into slices and drying. I’ve put up 25 quarts of tomatoes, quartered and packed in water. I will need more than 30 to get my hungry lot through. I’ve got at least 10 pints of strawberry and raspberry freezer jams hibernating and 5 six ounce jars of some very special seedless raspberry, aged-balsamic vinegar and black pepper jam for holiday gifting. This year’s cucumber glut prompted me to dig up my “refrigerator pickle” recipe. Not enough of my family likes dill pickles to make traditional crock-pickles worthwhile, so I put up only a few in the refrigerator for more immediate snacking. As soon as the local orchard stand puts out their Hale peaches, I’ll be doing about 14 or 21 quarts of those. I think I may put up some apple butter, too, once the late-season apples become available.

Needless to say, I do a lot of canning. I wish I could say I enjoy it. Like most, I like the end result; rows of gleaming and neatly arranged ball jars on a dark shelf in the basement cold room. I don’t think I save much money putting up the fruit, not when pears and peaches cost $18 for a half-bushel this year. I do save money on tomatoes. One preserved quart provides plenty for one dinner of pasta and a red sauce. Given it’s one of the few foods all of my children eat without complaint, it is a resource to be treasured for many months to come.

Still, I think I do save money overall because I need no equipment aside from the lids. Almost all of my canning equipment, including dozens of quart and pint jars, is inherited, most of it coming to me from my grandmother’s kitchen. I value the old jars especially, as the glass is much thicker than the newer jars. Using these jars year after year instills me with a sense pride and continuity. While many are selling their mothers’ and grandmothers’ jars on eBay as flower vases and votives for wedding decorations, mine continue in their service of provident preservation.

However, for those fruit butters and jams I give away at Christmas, I do buy jars. No one brings them back anymore. Not that I really think they should. It would be awkward, like returning the wrapping paper your gift came in. I do my best to dress up the jars a bit as they scream “home-industry.” When a jam takes two-and-a-half hours of constantly stirring a hot pot of boiling, splattering fruit purees, certainly it would be nice to present it in something more attractive than the traditional quilted half-pint Ball jars from the grocery store. I am tempted by those pretty Weck jars, but six jars cost $20 plus shipping. I have a hard time justifying the expense. I’d be haunted by the ghost of my depression-era grandmother staring back from behind rows of decades-old quart jars. Besides, she would remind me that it’s what’s inside that counts.