It's unattractively whiny of me, but I'm starting to be the least little bit tired of canning apricots.
Now I'm going to unload the dishwasher and make zucchini bread.
Showing posts with label preserving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preserving. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Auuuggghpricots
One trug full made this many, plus a quart or a pint and a half of syrup being reduced right now. So, guessing about the half-liter jars, about 11 pints.
It's unattractively whiny of me, but I'm starting to be the least little bit tired of canning apricots.
Now I'm going to unload the dishwasher and make zucchini bread.
It's unattractively whiny of me, but I'm starting to be the least little bit tired of canning apricots.
Now I'm going to unload the dishwasher and make zucchini bread.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Sott' olio
Farmer's market red peppers, plus homegrown orange ones, roasted and peeled. . .
Folded into jars with their researved juices, vinegar and salt, then topped with a slick of greeny extra-virgin olive oil.
I can hardly wait for the winter afternoon when I open a jar, smear some goat cheese on fresh ciabatta, drop a couple of slices of pepper on top, and bite into summer.
Folded into jars with their researved juices, vinegar and salt, then topped with a slick of greeny extra-virgin olive oil.
I can hardly wait for the winter afternoon when I open a jar, smear some goat cheese on fresh ciabatta, drop a couple of slices of pepper on top, and bite into summer.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Drama
Once upon a time, a mother who was committed to homeschooling thought to herself, "Enough. I have had enough." Fortunately for this mother, and for her two elementary-aged children, there was a good school in the area, and off those two children went for a year of public school.
At this school, the fourth grade seemed to have a little more than its share of dramatic girls. It was like a sitcom sometimes -- the mother would go to pick up her children (which she mentally added to the millions of reasons homeschooling was at times easier) and find the girls from this particular grade falling about and weeping. Someone would have felt left out, and because the school emphasized sharing feelings and process, they would have talked themselves into a hormonal stew. One storm was set off when two girls were equally committed to the company of a third, during incompatible games -- house and doing gymnastics. Tears aplenty.
Alas for this mother, it wasn't limited to group dynamics either. No, her very own precious daughter sometimes tended toward the overwrought.
One day, the lovely and very patient fourth grade teacher took the mother aside. She gently told the mother that her child had had "a rough time" at lunch, and had spent forty-five minutes in tears talking to her.
Had this mother not long since gotten over any "my precious snowflake" reactions, she might have thought her child had been harmed, perhaps bullied, or had felt badly about underperforming in an academic sense. But no. This mother merely sighed and asked what had happened.
The teacher gently explained that this child, this hand-raised, home birthed, lovely and talented, much loved daughter and sister, felt embarrassed because her lunches, brought in zero-waste tiffin boxes, consisted of things like sandwiches made with homemade bread, often with the added insult of homemade jam, occasionally even with homemade peanut butter! The child had raved and hyperventilated. No premade snacks! No juice boxes! She would be a pariah! Why was her mother so strange, so bizarre, so rigid?
All that was great, as far as the parent was concerned. But then the teacher said the one thing that she shouldn't have. "I told her," she said, "That I would ask you to think of one compromise, like storebought jam or breakfast cereal."
"No you don't," thought the mother, but thanked the very nice teacher, and went to gather up her progeny.
Over the course of that year, Ellie and I had many talks about why we ate the way we did/do, why I insisted on making lunches out of real food, what it cost to feed a large family, why I was irritated with her teacher's well-meant suggestion, and that she would someday look back at this and it wouldn't bother her. In fact, I suggested, she would laugh.
She didn't believe me then.
But she does now. In addition, we both agree that she has made huge strides in maturity. First, she finds the story funny (and I have her permission to write about it) and secondly, because she's looking forward to bringing a variety of homemade foods to school with her when she once again goes to public school next week.
She and I share some excitement about one goody, fruit roll ups. Following in many many blogger's footsteps, I discoverd a use for my too-runny jam.
It's helpful if your oven has a low temperature setting:
If, on Christmas morning, to gift-wrapped rolls of restaurant-sized parchment paper waited, I'd squeal like one of those fourth-grade girls. I love the stuff. Love it. To make roll-ups, line a sheet with parchment paper sprayed with oil.
Pour in your fruit puree, or runny jam, and shake it around.
This jam had lumpy berries in it, so I mashed them with a fork. Then I put the pan in the oven.
As it heated, the surface started looking glassy, like a skating rink after the Zamboni rolls through.
After evaporating fora week and a half a longish time, the puree was leathery and ready.
Rolled up
And cut in pieces with kitchen shears. Next time, I'll oil the shears, probably.
I'm thinking of getting stone fruit from the farmer's market and berry foraging in order to keep up the lunchbox supply. They're resting in the freezer until their debut.
Because we all know there probably won't be any drama in middle school.
At this school, the fourth grade seemed to have a little more than its share of dramatic girls. It was like a sitcom sometimes -- the mother would go to pick up her children (which she mentally added to the millions of reasons homeschooling was at times easier) and find the girls from this particular grade falling about and weeping. Someone would have felt left out, and because the school emphasized sharing feelings and process, they would have talked themselves into a hormonal stew. One storm was set off when two girls were equally committed to the company of a third, during incompatible games -- house and doing gymnastics. Tears aplenty.
Alas for this mother, it wasn't limited to group dynamics either. No, her very own precious daughter sometimes tended toward the overwrought.
One day, the lovely and very patient fourth grade teacher took the mother aside. She gently told the mother that her child had had "a rough time" at lunch, and had spent forty-five minutes in tears talking to her.
Had this mother not long since gotten over any "my precious snowflake" reactions, she might have thought her child had been harmed, perhaps bullied, or had felt badly about underperforming in an academic sense. But no. This mother merely sighed and asked what had happened.
The teacher gently explained that this child, this hand-raised, home birthed, lovely and talented, much loved daughter and sister, felt embarrassed because her lunches, brought in zero-waste tiffin boxes, consisted of things like sandwiches made with homemade bread, often with the added insult of homemade jam, occasionally even with homemade peanut butter! The child had raved and hyperventilated. No premade snacks! No juice boxes! She would be a pariah! Why was her mother so strange, so bizarre, so rigid?
All that was great, as far as the parent was concerned. But then the teacher said the one thing that she shouldn't have. "I told her," she said, "That I would ask you to think of one compromise, like storebought jam or breakfast cereal."
"No you don't," thought the mother, but thanked the very nice teacher, and went to gather up her progeny.
Over the course of that year, Ellie and I had many talks about why we ate the way we did/do, why I insisted on making lunches out of real food, what it cost to feed a large family, why I was irritated with her teacher's well-meant suggestion, and that she would someday look back at this and it wouldn't bother her. In fact, I suggested, she would laugh.
She didn't believe me then.
But she does now. In addition, we both agree that she has made huge strides in maturity. First, she finds the story funny (and I have her permission to write about it) and secondly, because she's looking forward to bringing a variety of homemade foods to school with her when she once again goes to public school next week.
She and I share some excitement about one goody, fruit roll ups. Following in many many blogger's footsteps, I discoverd a use for my too-runny jam.
It's helpful if your oven has a low temperature setting:
If, on Christmas morning, to gift-wrapped rolls of restaurant-sized parchment paper waited, I'd squeal like one of those fourth-grade girls. I love the stuff. Love it. To make roll-ups, line a sheet with parchment paper sprayed with oil.
Pour in your fruit puree, or runny jam, and shake it around.
This jam had lumpy berries in it, so I mashed them with a fork. Then I put the pan in the oven.
As it heated, the surface started looking glassy, like a skating rink after the Zamboni rolls through.
After evaporating for
Rolled up
And cut in pieces with kitchen shears. Next time, I'll oil the shears, probably.
I'm thinking of getting stone fruit from the farmer's market and berry foraging in order to keep up the lunchbox supply. They're resting in the freezer until their debut.
Because we all know there probably won't be any drama in middle school.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Peter Pepper's got nothing on me
More jars of pickled pepper rings. Again, I sure hope Eric ends up liking these; the plants are ramping up production as we're into what passes for high summer here.
Even though it's summer, it's sweater weather! I just finished the first of three that were all on the cusp. The other two need zipper and trim, and just a zipper, respectively. I used to keep my knitting blog separate from this one, but I'm starting to realize that I'm happier with everything in one place, so I've tried to append all the posts from my old blog onto this one. If you're into spelunking, you can read much more about knitting than you might have wished once I get it all straightened out. In the mean time, here's the front view of my newly-completed Tea Leaves Cardigan.
The multi-headed sunflowers are going gangbusters. It's going to be a pretty week.
Also, I should pull my stomach in when I stand up.
Back view. Were I to make this sweater again, I'd modify it with a narrower neckline (maybe another repeat of the ruching pattern), and I'd make the body and arms wider. It fits like a dream from the back, but it doesn't button well -- lots of gaps. And those arms are very narrow for someone who is doing as many pushups as I have been lately!
Made in Miss Babs "Vlad," and very pretty in color.
Knitting is super-streaky for me. Either I'll leave it alone for months or get all happy and race through things. Maybe I'll get a zipper or two tomorrow and finish the other ones. That would really clear my mental decks. Maybe I could even make some more pickles!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Being careful what I wish for
Remember the blogger who was a little afraid she might not have enough enchilada sauce to last her all year long?
Husking tomatillos is a sticky, somewhat tedious business. Fortunately a dear friend came by and she and I talked chickens and children while she cheerily helped me peel every single usable tomatillo in the buckets -- and that harvest trug was also full yesterday, from the fallen fruit in the bed. Having her there helped immensely, not only for the work, but because when I'd grimace and flick my sandal off of my foot, she'd calmly say, "Earwig?" "Uh huh," I'd reply, "Toewig," and we'd go on.
Once they were peeled, I shifted them from soapy water to draining rack. I wasn't really trying to get all of the sticky off, just the earwigs, their leavings, and any stray garden dirt or plant matter. Just a dunk and a rinse, really.
Added to them were the outsides of as many peppers as I could get at the market. It was, unfortunately, not a banner day for peppers. If hot hot hot salsa was a good idea, I could have made this with any amount of peppers, but I wanted a mix between the mildness of Anaheims and a tiny bit of Jalapeno. Instead, I got mostly Pasillas. You can also tell that I didn't start the salsa until after dinner. Peeling those babies took up a bigger part of the afternoon than I'd bargained for; and the kids were too hungry to wait for me to finish a batch!
I used the food processor to chop things, because it's faster and also because I don't want a chunky salsa, the way I would if it were going on chips or something like that. I did miss enough that there's going to be chunks, especially of onions. I have bags of frozen chopped onions from the harvest with the soft places, so it's fairly easy to measure.
I prefer lime to lemon juice. After this batch, though, I think I like a mix of vinegar to lime juice the best. As long as the juice is bottled, I believe the acidity is safe for canning. Vinegar would sort of be insurance too.
The trusty food processor turned these
Into this pretty quickly. Sometimes I poured off a little bit of juice -- it tends toward wateriness anyhow.
Spices like cumin and oregano add just the right flavor
And I use kosher salt because I haven't found canning salt in my area yet. It may not be perfect, but it works okay.
Simmer all the sauce for 20 minutes, then put in jars and process. Last night, I doubled the batch (according to the hot pepper amount) and only got nine pints.
That's really pretty terrific - a batch of enchiladas takes about two. It would be more terrific if there weren't the equivalent of another five gallon bucket of peeled tomatillos waiting. I can freeze them, cook them and freeze them, can them whole, or go and get more peppers today and make another double batch. A new recipe for enchilada sauce crossed my radar while I was writing this, with larger amounts than mine. Maybe I'll try that one tomorrow night.
When I went to bed, the cat was nosing after one of the earwigs walking across the floor. Guess I didn't get them all when I swept. Eeew.
The recipe I used can be found here, and it's fairly straightforward.
Tomatillo Green Salsa
Husking tomatillos is a sticky, somewhat tedious business. Fortunately a dear friend came by and she and I talked chickens and children while she cheerily helped me peel every single usable tomatillo in the buckets -- and that harvest trug was also full yesterday, from the fallen fruit in the bed. Having her there helped immensely, not only for the work, but because when I'd grimace and flick my sandal off of my foot, she'd calmly say, "Earwig?" "Uh huh," I'd reply, "Toewig," and we'd go on.
Once they were peeled, I shifted them from soapy water to draining rack. I wasn't really trying to get all of the sticky off, just the earwigs, their leavings, and any stray garden dirt or plant matter. Just a dunk and a rinse, really.
Added to them were the outsides of as many peppers as I could get at the market. It was, unfortunately, not a banner day for peppers. If hot hot hot salsa was a good idea, I could have made this with any amount of peppers, but I wanted a mix between the mildness of Anaheims and a tiny bit of Jalapeno. Instead, I got mostly Pasillas. You can also tell that I didn't start the salsa until after dinner. Peeling those babies took up a bigger part of the afternoon than I'd bargained for; and the kids were too hungry to wait for me to finish a batch!
I used the food processor to chop things, because it's faster and also because I don't want a chunky salsa, the way I would if it were going on chips or something like that. I did miss enough that there's going to be chunks, especially of onions. I have bags of frozen chopped onions from the harvest with the soft places, so it's fairly easy to measure.
I prefer lime to lemon juice. After this batch, though, I think I like a mix of vinegar to lime juice the best. As long as the juice is bottled, I believe the acidity is safe for canning. Vinegar would sort of be insurance too.
The trusty food processor turned these
Into this pretty quickly. Sometimes I poured off a little bit of juice -- it tends toward wateriness anyhow.
Spices like cumin and oregano add just the right flavor
And I use kosher salt because I haven't found canning salt in my area yet. It may not be perfect, but it works okay.
Simmer all the sauce for 20 minutes, then put in jars and process. Last night, I doubled the batch (according to the hot pepper amount) and only got nine pints.
That's really pretty terrific - a batch of enchiladas takes about two. It would be more terrific if there weren't the equivalent of another five gallon bucket of peeled tomatillos waiting. I can freeze them, cook them and freeze them, can them whole, or go and get more peppers today and make another double batch. A new recipe for enchilada sauce crossed my radar while I was writing this, with larger amounts than mine. Maybe I'll try that one tomorrow night.
When I went to bed, the cat was nosing after one of the earwigs walking across the floor. Guess I didn't get them all when I swept. Eeew.
The recipe I used can be found here, and it's fairly straightforward.
Tomatillo Green Salsa
- 5 cups chopped tomatillos
- 1-½ cups seeded, chopped long green chiles
- ½ cup seeded, finely chopped jalapeño peppers
- 4 cups chopped onions
- 1 cup bottled lemon or lime juice
- 6 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- 1 tablespoon ground cumin (optional)
- 3 tablespoons dried oregano leaves (optional)
- 1 tablespoon salt
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
Friday, July 23, 2010
When life
(or a 15 year old) gives you overripe cucumbers,
. . . make pickles.
These are the "quick dill pickles" from Keeping the Harvest, and I have no clue how they will taste. Still and all, it was an interesting experiment. I still have the rest of the cukes, both perfect and overripe, to process. I hope they turn out well -- we love dill pickles.
Oh, and I must mention my lunch because it was not only tasty and filling, but all of it save the oil came from my back yard. I fried thick slices of just-harvested potatoes, then pulled them from the pan, added thick slices of pattypan squash (see a theme yet?) and added sliced garlic once the squash began to brown. When those were done, a few Tat Soi leaves wilted in the pan and then I tossed them on top of the potatoes and then threw in a handful of raw Sungold tomatoes. Bliss in a bowl!
. . . make pickles.
These are the "quick dill pickles" from Keeping the Harvest, and I have no clue how they will taste. Still and all, it was an interesting experiment. I still have the rest of the cukes, both perfect and overripe, to process. I hope they turn out well -- we love dill pickles.
Oh, and I must mention my lunch because it was not only tasty and filling, but all of it save the oil came from my back yard. I fried thick slices of just-harvested potatoes, then pulled them from the pan, added thick slices of pattypan squash (see a theme yet?) and added sliced garlic once the squash began to brown. When those were done, a few Tat Soi leaves wilted in the pan and then I tossed them on top of the potatoes and then threw in a handful of raw Sungold tomatoes. Bliss in a bowl!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Denise's spring/summer harvest totals
As the year's last Early Girls slow roast in the oven, I'm totaling the season's harvest. I thought I'd wait until all the beds were empty, but that's not going to happen: some of the Sungolds are still fruiting, plenty of kale is going strong, and both the jalapeños and the jalapas are still producing, too.
So it looks like about 430 pounds. The biggest producers were
Some were quite large.
All ended up sliced and fried up with garlic and plenty of olive oil, then frozen: instant dinner starter.
I'm not a big hot-pepper fan, so today I had to process over a pound of jalapeños that have gathered in the fridge. I pickled some with tiny potatoes from the garden and carrots (all prepped on the beautiful cutting board Kevin made for me of reclaimed redwood, black walnut, and cherry).
Some I just canned with lemon juice. I'm not sure the latter is officially sanctioned; I'll let you know. Pretty, though, isn't it?
And as we prep the back bed, we've given the chickens their first field trips. They're such dirt monkeys! And they left their first contributions to the soil.
So it looks like about 430 pounds. The biggest producers were
- the summer squash: zucchini (89 lbs 4 oz from 3 plants) and scallopini (39 lbs 3 oz from 3 plants)
- the tomatoes: Sungolds (27 lbs 15 oz from 4 plants) and Early Girls (63 lbs 6 oz from 4 plants---I didn't count the bush EGs, which hardly produced)
- the winter squash, of course: butternut (14 lbs 15 oz from 2? 3? plants) and Lakota (18 lbs 13 oz from 3 plants)
- the cucs, of all things: cucumbers (17 lbs from 4 plants) and lemon cucumbers (22 lbs 11 oz from 4 plants)
- and the greens: True Siberian kale (24 lbs 2 oz) and Lacinato (13 lbs 13 oz and counting)
Some were quite large.
All ended up sliced and fried up with garlic and plenty of olive oil, then frozen: instant dinner starter.
I'm not a big hot-pepper fan, so today I had to process over a pound of jalapeños that have gathered in the fridge. I pickled some with tiny potatoes from the garden and carrots (all prepped on the beautiful cutting board Kevin made for me of reclaimed redwood, black walnut, and cherry).
Some I just canned with lemon juice. I'm not sure the latter is officially sanctioned; I'll let you know. Pretty, though, isn't it?
And as we prep the back bed, we've given the chickens their first field trips. They're such dirt monkeys! And they left their first contributions to the soil.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Saving Eggs
Whenever the chickens are really going gangbusters with egg laying, I try to remember how annoying I find having to buy eggs! Really, come February, I'll be grouching my way through the grocery aisles. I could only eat eggs in season, I suppose, or I could investigate historical preservation methods.
Or, I could use my favorite method and freeze them.
I've discovered that each of my ice cubes holds roughly 1/2 of a standard sized egg. So I beat half a dozen at a time, sprinkle them with about 1/2 teaspoon of salt (I'm all about winging it here) and pour them into the tray.
If I knew that I wanted to only make cakes or something, supposedly I could use sugar, but I don't mind salt for any applications. After they're hard frozen, I pop them into a freezer bag and use as needed. If I'm using them in baking, I let them thaw of course. Usually I do if scrambled eggs are called for, but not always. I have thrown them onto the skillet frozen, and scrambled them as they thawed in the pan. Whatever works!
So now, if the refrigerator egg count goes over 24, I try to freeze some. This also prevents me from having a custard attack and eating something ridiculous!
Or, I could use my favorite method and freeze them.
I've discovered that each of my ice cubes holds roughly 1/2 of a standard sized egg. So I beat half a dozen at a time, sprinkle them with about 1/2 teaspoon of salt (I'm all about winging it here) and pour them into the tray.
If I knew that I wanted to only make cakes or something, supposedly I could use sugar, but I don't mind salt for any applications. After they're hard frozen, I pop them into a freezer bag and use as needed. If I'm using them in baking, I let them thaw of course. Usually I do if scrambled eggs are called for, but not always. I have thrown them onto the skillet frozen, and scrambled them as they thawed in the pan. Whatever works!
So now, if the refrigerator egg count goes over 24, I try to freeze some. This also prevents me from having a custard attack and eating something ridiculous!
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