Yesterday I entered a new dimension of life. Canning. Oh, I've canned before. Long ago I made pickles and recently I've canned mustard and jelly. But that was nothing compared to canning peaches. That other stuff was fluff. The activity of pussies. I could do jelly and mustard blindfolded now. Canning peaches is work for the big boys. There are lots of really tough jobs out there; police officers, firemen, terrorists, drug dealers, HA!!!! I laugh at them now. Canning peaches is a job for the truly brave. Now I know why everyone isn't doing this. I also know why you usually see grannies and moms and aunts and daughters all standing around the kitchen canning together. Canning is the original bitch fest. Or at least the original girl's night out where lots of drinks were consumed while you trashed your husbands and boyfriends. How else could this work be endured? I started early. I knew I was in for a long day. I got myself organized, turned on tv and settled in. I finished watching the morning news, then Rachael Raye, The View, the noon news, a bad Keanu Reeves movie and the most recent episode of True Blood for the 4th time. I started out very carefully saving as much of each precious peach as possible. I carefully cut around each bruise and sliced the peaches evenly. Sometime during Keanu I snapped. If I saw the tiniest little dent the peach got tossed. During the few short breaks I took a marker to the sweet smiling woman on the canning jars box and gave her a beard and horns. How dare she smile while canning? Language better not infuse fruit because if it absorbed what I was muttering we are all headed to hell when we eat these. Steam is supposed to be good for your skin so I expected to look 10 years younger at the end of the day. That didn't happen. I just looked like someone dumped a bucket of water over my head. I started having visions of sitting on my front porch and throwing peaches at people walking home from work. I want a real job that pays real money like them. After blanching and peeling and slicing and stirring and cooking and jarring 25 pounds of peaches I ended up with 11 quarts. I wanted to spit. But then something happened. Every time I walked into the kitchen those little jars of peaches were smiling at me. And I could hear the ping, ping, ping as they sealed. I felt like I had given birth except I expect the peaches to be much better behaved than my kids. I am the octomom plus 3! Those sweet little jars were warm and cute. Maybe it wasn't so bad afterall! I guess I'll can the other 25 pounds tomorrow. Thank god I only have one tree. And now I know why you only do this once a year. It takes that long to forget how horrible it is.
I was too tired to even make them look neater!
Yesterday I entered a new dimension of life. Canning. Oh, I've canned before. Long ago I made pickles and recently I've canned mustard and jelly. But that was nothing compared to canning peaches. That other stuff was fluff. The activity of pussies. I could do jelly and mustard blindfolded now. Canning peaches is work for the big boys. There are lots of really tough jobs out there; police officers, firemen, terrorists, drug dealers, HA!!!! I laugh at them now. Canning peaches is a job for the truly brave. Now I know why everyone isn't doing this. I also know why you usually see grannies and moms and aunts and daughters all standing around the kitchen canning together. Canning is the original bitch fest. Or at least the original girl's night out where lots of drinks were consumed while you trashed your husbands and boyfriends. How else could this work be endured? I started early. I knew I was in for a long day. I got myself organized, turned on tv and settled in. I finished watching the morning news, then Rachael Raye, The View, the noon news, a bad Keanu Reeves movie and the most recent episode of True Blood for the 4th time. I started out very carefully saving as much of each precious peach as possible. I carefully cut around each bruise and sliced the peaches evenly. Sometime during Keanu I snapped. If I saw the tiniest little dent the peach got tossed. During the few short breaks I took a marker to the sweet smiling woman on the canning jars box and gave her a beard and horns. How dare she smile while canning? Language better not infuse fruit because if it absorbed what I was muttering we are all headed to hell when we eat these. Steam is supposed to be good for your skin so I expected to look 10 years younger at the end of the day. That didn't happen. I just looked like someone dumped a bucket of water over my head. I started having visions of sitting on my front porch and throwing peaches at people walking home from work. I want a real job that pays real money like them. After blanching and peeling and slicing and stirring and cooking and jarring 25 pounds of peaches I ended up with 11 quarts. I wanted to spit. But then something happened. Every time I walked into the kitchen those little jars of peaches were smiling at me. And I could hear the ping, ping, ping as they sealed. I felt like I had given birth except I expect the peaches to be much better behaved than my kids. I am the octomom plus 3! Those sweet little jars were warm and cute. Maybe it wasn't so bad afterall! I guess I'll can the other 25 pounds tomorrow. Thank god I only have one tree. And now I know why you only do this once a year. It takes that long to forget how horrible it is.
I was too tired to even make them look neater!
Comments
I guess now's not the right time to tell you I don't know how to can and I really want to learn this year, huh? I'll tell you one thing, though, I'm not going to start out with peaches! :-)
I was so horrified with the task of caaning that I bought myself a book 2 years ago : Small Batch Preserving ! I am canning, but 2 jars at a time ! hihihi
Cheers!
Almost, but not quite! :)
~ bangchik
I hope I one day can write that I have canned nectarines over here, at least one nectarine :-)
Have a great day now!
Christer.
I also have to tell you that you are way more woman than me cause I just don't think I have what it takes to can ;o)