Canning - The Final Frontier

I have a habit of not following recipes. It’s a well documented habit and one, until I learned some kitchen fundamentals, got me in a fair degree of hot water, both figurative and literal. Now as a reasonably accomplished cook I fearlessly tread into the great mystery that is intuitive cooking. Most of the time.

One big exception to my laize faire kitchen style is the great project that is home canning. Here tradition and a healthy fear of botulism keeps me lock step with whatever guide I choose, and nary a toe off the path do I tread. Perhaps it was the extensive section on food borne pathogens in Kitchen Theory 101 or an honest to god phobia of the dreaded botulism (it seems to me to be deeply unfair that something you can get from carrot juice can severe your nerve pathways) but I am nervous canner. So much so that I have been sitting on all the equipment for two years now, afraid to take the final step and actual preserve something without my mother (the world’s best jam maker) overseeing.

Well circumstances this week developed in such a way that at the same time that The Banker was making a case for the removal of all unused kitchen equipment (of which we may have an slight accumulation) an over exuberant purchase of fresh peaches sat on the verge of rot on the counter. The urge to validate my gadget shopping and save the fruit overpowered my canning dread. Action was taken.

Results? As of yet no death or destruction. The process was not nearly as hairy as expected. Once the peaches were prepped (blanched, skinned and sliced) all that was required was boiling them briefly in a simple syrup. The canning itself was strangely gratifying; once the jars were sterilized and filled they were capped, returned to the boiling water and allowed to sit there for 15 minutes. In all honesty the best part was when the jars, once removed from the water, made lovely popping sounds, indicating the seal had been set by the cooling temperatures inside. It was at that moment I felt a sense of kinship with pioneer women of old, putting food away for the dark times ahead. Which lasted exactly three days until curiosity (and hunger) overtook, and cans were opened and consumed. It was however, an extremely dark three days.