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So I’ve been light on the posting, I know, but I have been busy. Being away for vacation might have been excuse enough for a week of posts of previously photoed recipes. (I did rather enjoy celebrating curry, one of my favorite genres.) Now I can tell one of the other reasons I’ve been so tied up: I’ve been chosen as the new restaurant critic at The Gazette, and my first review publishes tomorrow. It covers burgers! So much fun to write; so much fun to eat.
And yeah, I also was a little busy this weekend canning tomatoes. You know, just a few of them.
My CSA has a bumper crop this year, and so they offered large boxes to members for the purpose of canning. I missed my fresh veggies on vacation SO much. Thanks again to Carey of Carey Moonbeam, who picked up and enjoyed our produce while we were away. Plus, I’ve been on a kick of making tomato-based sauces, like Tomato Sauce with Onion and Butter and Tomato Sauce with Vodka and Cream.
And so it seemed to make sense. At the time. I tend to overestimate the time in my schedule, while at the same time underestimating amounts. For instance, this is how many jars I thought I needed lids for. (I can do math! Sometimes!)
Then I had to stop halfway through the process to wash more leftover jars and send someone to the store for more lids. Canning is always a very simple process when you write down the steps. Then it takes you longer, makes a bigger mess and challenges your brain cells more than you expect. I tend to chant: It will be worth it this winter. It will be worth it this winter. How did so many of those pioneer families survive the winter, doing this without electric or gas stove, not to mention dishwashers and clothes washers? Women of the West, I salute you.
First, clean your jars in the dishwasher. Put them in your hot bath and bring them to a boil. I never take photos of that part. Jars in clear water are boring and steamy. Tomatoes are more photogenic.
You need to have two additional pots near the stove, one with boiling water and one ice-water bath. Working in batches, add the tomatoes to the hot water and return to a boil for 1 minute. Dunk them in the ice water to immediately cool.
It’s a handy trick that makes them jump out of their skin like me when someone surprises me while wearing my iPod.
They look like brain tissue — or at least a bad Halloween prop meant to be brain tissue — don’t they?
Already somewhat precooked, the tomatoes chop very easily. Again, you have to work in batches here.
I salted the tomatoes at this point, also in batches and very lightly. I wouldn’t recommend leaving them completely unsalted, but don’t go overboard. Once all your tomatoes are chopped, pour the water out of your boiling-water pot, and boil the tomatoes, only long enough to bring them back up to heat.
Remove your jars — they should also still be warm — and use a jar funnel to fill them to near the lip.
Your hot-water bath should still be near boiling, but you’ll need to remove water. After all, you’re returning FULL jars to the water where empty ones used to be. After my jar miscalculation, I was impressed at this point with my physics in remembering that.
After the pot returns to a boil, the full jars need to boil for 45 minutes. Then you swaddle them in towels so they lose their heat very, very slowly. Mine were still warm to the touch almost 24 hours later. Then you take photos of your handy work.
Pretty. Pretty impressive. I’m always a little impressed when I finish a big preserving project. The feelings of stress and mess vanish — believe me on this point, because it’s true. This will be worth it this winter! This will be worth it, and rest assured I’ll share the successes and failures I expect to have will all my tomatoes with you.
