If one is of a mind to do a bit of canning and looks around online for help and resources, it does not take long before one realizes the broad spectrum of humanity that takes a like-minded interest. You’ve got your homemaking traditionalists, your survivalists, your back-to-the-landers, some latter-day hippies and crunchies, gardeners experiencing scope creep, foodies (who overlap, but do not totally align, with
slow foodies),
locavores (ditto), organic-interested activists, and so on. Oh, and hobbyists. I think that last one is mine, although I have much in common with most – if not all – of the others and it helps to understand that there are no hard lines in between and that many of us move in and out of various canning circles as we go about our business.
Anyway, my point is that many of us come to the canning thing with something of an agenda beyond getting through the winter. And, like
opinions on canning safety, there are
divergent viewpoints on the value of other methods of “putting food by”. Some folks include drying in their repertoire (I dabble – dried cherries are an awfully nice thing to have around but can’t for the life of me understand the appeal of, say, ostrich jerky) and many canners also keep a freezer. Some folks love their freezer (or dehydrator) and cannot imagine why on earth someone like me would stand in summer’s heat over vats of boiling water. For me, striking the right balance between frozen, canned and dried items is a particular pleasure, akin to solving an only-slightly complex puzzle the rewards for having done so give on.
One of the many displays of canned goods on offer at the Monticello gift shop. Yes, I take pictures of canned goods displays. I can't be the only one. Oh, I am?
I keep a separate freezer that when spring rolls around is nigh on empty but begins to fill again as the growing season marches on. Except when we’re away on vacation and a massive summer storm runs through town, downing trees and power lines and we don’t have electricity for four days and my sister-in-law (who is lovely and wonderful in every way) does her level best to save everything but in the end the entire business is a loss. You ken that I’m not speaking hypothetically about this, yes? We returned home, with many frantic phone calls and texts in between, to find it all gone – the meats and berries and grains and soups and…all of it. So we’re starting from scratch (ha!) just as summer begins to – pardon me for this one – heat up, harvest-wise.
Canning I’ll still do as I have a standing order for dilly beans and I have a few wants of my own, but I think this is a great opportunity to re-examine the freezer and its prospective contents. More beef is
definitely out – we likely wouldn’t have finished what we still had for quite some time anyway what with the allergies and all. More chicken? Fish? We’ve got a bead on a source for responsible salmon (as opposed to the kind that drinks all your whiskey and then steals your car keys?) so that might be doable.
The path remains to be discovered. There are a lot of open questions to address regarding our changing palates, energy use, how and what we want to eat and what’s available to us from which to choose. While we work through the issues, I’m more grateful than ever that we’ve kept our toolbox, so to speak, well-populated. In my work, I deal in a concept called “business continuity,” an idea that turns the negative connotations of redundancy and multiple back-ups on their heads and recasts them as necessary components of the organizational ecology. If I’ve learned nothing else this week, I realize that I’ve brought the concept home in a way that I hadn’t quite realized. This summer, more glass jars and freezer bags. I've got a system to back up!
Vahada top, Topshop t-shirt, Dhievine skirt, Sou Brette necklace, Topshop tights, Longchamp bag, Zara clogs
Vahada top, Topshop t-shirt, Dhievine skirt, Sou Brette necklace, Topshop tights, Longchamp bag, Zara clogs
