So, my dill pickles are practically world famous. Alright, let’s be honest: people who have been to other countries like my dill pickles. But that’s mostly just a collection of friends and family who have been gifted a jar over the years. However, last year’s batch was unique for two reasons: 1) they turned out particularly good and 2) there wasn’t nearly enough of them. I’ll take each one of these factors in turn.
First, the pickles turned out really good last year. Why? Well, it wasn’t that I changed the recipe. In fact, I’m very cautious about not changing the recipe in any way that would alter the acidity of the pickles or the safety of the food. So, while I always sneak in just a little bit more garlic than the recipe calls for, I leave the brine a simple brine of vinegar, salt and water to ensure that the pickles stay within the appropriate acidity. If I didn’t change the recipe, then what made last year’s pickles so special? I did slices instead of spears of whole pickles. To the casual observer, this small change may not be the big hairy deal I’m making it out to be. But think for a moment about when you most often use pickles. For us, it’s putting them on a burger. Spears, candidly, don’t work that well on a burger. Slices? Let’s just say those babies flew off the shelf.
And that gets to the second unique characteristic of last year’s pickling season: I didn’t make enough. Last year, I simply ran out of time for canning. Work had slowed down so badly in March through June that when it finally picked back up in July, I took every extra project I could get to make up some of the shortfall. So, in August and September, I was much more focused on billable hours than slicing cucumbers. That, in turn, left me with just six pint jars of pickles and some customers who were only partially satisfied and left wanting more.
This year, I got ahead of the pickle game and canned 14 larger jars of pickles. The first nine are these “1.5 pint” jars that the jar making companies got a little cutesy with a few years ago. Back then, it was crunch time and I couldn’t find any quart jars so I had to pick up these. I recall being more than a little irritated by them. Turns out that they may be just the right size for a big – but not huge – jar of pickles. The second five were quart jars. Let’s face it: I know these babies are good and they’re going places. No one’s going to let a quart jar of these pickles go bad in the ‘fridge.
But pickling this weekend also brought out the canner in me. Simply put, I love my little canner and all of the possibilities it provides. In the same way that children look at Christmas catalogs or crafters scroll through Pinterest boards, I flip through canning recipes. Just looking at my canner inspires me. However, I made a critical canning decision this weekend: the canner I have is a bit too big for some of the small, “craft” canning I want to do this summer. First, it takes a half-hour just to heat up the water enough to put the jars in the waterbath. Secondly, it makes cleanup even more cumbersome. So, I did a quick search online, found a much smaller version of my existing canner – essentially a four-jar canner – and I’m about to be back in business.
This year, I have plans for canning and, thankfully, the time to do it. I want to make my own ketchup, an elixir from wild elderberries, and dill pickle relish to go with my dill pickles. I’ve also found recipes for bourbon-soaked peaches, a plum jelly and a curry cauliflower side dish. There’s also a cinnamon/apple topping and a caramel apple sauce. There seems to be a number of unique small-batch canning recipes that I can try and if I didn’t have to wait 30 minutes to heat up water in a canning bath, the canning door is literally wide open to me.
This year, canning feels like kismet. It feels like all of the forces that for nearly a year pulled me in different directions and away from my concept of simple peace are now abating. I feel like I can untangle myself from the tentacles of noise around me and instead focus on those things that quiet my soul in a way that makes me so appreciative of our lifestyle. My canning plan provides that to me this year.
It has been a journey back to simple peace over the last several months. Most of it is just me. I like to worry and it’s that penchant for worry that often winds me up to a state that leaves room for nothing other than my anxiety. Add to that, I will worry for others if I don’t think they’re properly worrying about things in their own lives. But the simplicity of canning? Well, it does a few things. First, it calms me down. You have to be focused and precise when canning to ensure food safety. But you are also being creative in preserving food and following recipes that make something more out of raw ingredients. And finally, canning has deep roots into how our parents, grandparents and their parents lived. It’s this connection to history and to living more naturally which seeps in and takes over my soul. I get to do what my mom and grandmother did. I follow recipes written in their handwriting. I use some of the same canning supplies that were passed down to me from my mom.
It all comes full circle and it comes down to simplicity. Some fresh fruits and vegetables. Simple spices. Clean, sanitized jars and lids. A pot of boiling water. A “magic wand” to lift sterilized lids out of hot water and avoid burning my hands. A timer. A kitchen that smells like whatever I’m canning. And at the very end? The tiny “pop” each jar makes as it is effectively sealed and ready for shelf storage.
I got a little pickled this weekend. I couldn’t be more tickled.
The Yuppie Homesteader 