Learning to Can Safely

Like a lot of people who’ve taken up canning in the past several years, I first learned to can with my mother. She put up hundreds of jars of applesauce, green beans, peaches, pears, and tomatoes each summer. We picked blackberries every August, filling pots and pans and giant mixing bowls with our bounty, which then got cooked into jam that we slathered on peanut butter sandwiches. We canned in those days because we needed to feed ourselves good food at less cost. It saw us through some lean times well.

Now I can because it’s a way to ensure my food is as honest and clean as possible. I know what goes into those jars; there’s no high fructose corn syrup, no preservatives, no ridiculous amount of salt. I also get a say in where my food comes from. Sometimes it’s from my backyard, sometimes a local farm. I’ve also discovered that once people know you’re a canner they show up with bags and boxes full of fruit. (There are currently 28 pounds of plums in my freezer that need to be turned into jam. Soon.) And, really, canning is fun. I'm in love with those jewel-toned jars.

Ever since I started canning six years ago I’ve been looking for classes to help fill the gaps in my knowledge. What’s considered safe canning practice has changed over the past decade or so. Canning the way our grandmothers and mothers did may give a good seal, but that’s not enough. Food scientists know more about food borne illness now; we have new, stronger strains of bacteria that require us to be more careful in processing those beautiful jars. Just because it’s sealed doesn’t mean it’s safe.

When my search for a good, comprehensive class came up empty (my local extension office has no interest in offering classes) I turned to UC Davis and was referred to University of Idaho. That’s a long way from where I live. The good news is that they have an online course that’s open to anyone with any level of canning experience. Preserve @ Home is six weeks long, interactive with videos and weekly chats, and covers all aspects of food preservation. It’s not only the “how” of preserving, but the “why”. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. And it’s a bargain at $35.00.

If you’re interested in this class leave a comment and shoot me an email at jamandcookies at yahoo dot com and I’ll send you the registration form and syllabus. (Please don't leave your email address in your comment. In an effort to preserve your email address privacy I've deleted several comments that included that information.)It’s a special offering of the class and we need 15 people to make this happen; another class is scheduled for next year, so if this October doesn’t work for you there will be other opportunities.

Happy Canning!

Update: It looks like this class is going to fill quickly. The maximum enrollment is 20. Carol Hampton is offering to keep a waiting list for the next class, which is scheduled for January 2013. It might be wise to email her at champton@uidaho.edu to make sure there's room left in this session before you send your check. Please email me directly for the registration form and syllabus.

October 3, 2012 Update: The class is now full. If you're interested in a future class please contact Carol Hampton at the email address above.

Sunday Breakfast With a Side of Ethics

Sunday is the one day of the week we're able to decide whether to get out of the house early or stay home in our jammies with the newspaper and pot after pot of tea. It’s that second option I like best on wintery days. I want to laze away the morning in slow motion. Sometimes we watch Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood, other times I go back to bed with the newspaper and stay there until I’ve read the entire thing.

Although Sunday breakfast should be special, it often isn’t any different than my quick workday bite just before I dash out the door. Actually cooking and lingering is part of what made yesterday’s breakfast so especially amazing.

We’ve been buying pastured eggs from a friend whose hens live a grand life. They get good food and stretch their wings in sunshine, scratching and pecking on green grass. Their eggs have bright orange yolks that stand tall and round in the pan and a taste that’s richer than anything produced by hens kept in small, artificially lit cages.

In addition to those delicious eggs we had locally raised, nitrite-free bacon and fresh, homemade (not by me) bread. The bread was light and hearty, full of whole grains and perfectly toasted. I topped my slice with a good dollop of Satsuma Mandarin Marmalade from this winter’s backyard harvest. It doesn’t get any more local than twenty feet from your own door.

The bacon we ate yesterday was thoughtfully and ethically raised. Knowing this, and that it was humanely slaughtered, makes me feel a sense of honor for the animal I don’t get with a package from the store. It wasn’t as salty as commercial bacon, was more thickly cut, and had a mellower flavor. It crisped exactly the way we both like.

I’m done buying eggs and bacon at the grocery store. For the small amount of bacon we actually eat (I could honestly have it every day if my cholesterol level would allow), I don’t mind paying a little more for this kind of quality. And isn’t that what Sunday morning should be about? Quality, ethics, honor, delicious food. My kind of day.