eating my words

I have a confession to make. You've already heard one. I said I'd never teach first grade. And you all know how that's coming back to haunt me. I also once told my mother I'd never ever can anything in my life. Why can stuff when everything I could possibly ever need is probably on sale at the grocery store? My sister and I were slave driven as children to husk corn, peel peaches, and clean green beans so my mom could freeze and can. I hated having to do the grunt work for that. I made up my mind at the tender age of eleven that I was not going to take part in that thing called home food preservation. Ever.

Um. . . internet, I canned. I canned nine quarts + one cup of the most divine salsa you've ever laid your eyes and tastebuds on. Look out Martha Stewart because this is better than a good thing! I couldn't have done it alone - and I probably still won't - the hot water bath scares me. I was under the watchful eyes of a master canner!

It all started last week when my friend Barbara and I were scrapbooking and she mentioned that she and her daughter Emily were going to be canning salsa on Friday. And, oh. . . I should come! So I got my house all cleaned up for our company that was arriving Friday evening. Then I called my mom and said, "Mom, remember how I once told you I was never going to can anything because anything I'd ever need I could buy at the store?" Her reply. . . lots of laughter followed by, "What are you going to can?"

Friday morning, I arrived in my nastiest t-shirt and ripped up capris (because I knew I'd make a mess of myself) ten minutes late with 16 tomatoes from our little garden and went to work. There was much peeling and chopping (and smelling) involved. All I'm going to say about that is if you're ever going to can salsa, make sure you have a food processor handy. Whoever invented that thing is a genius! Even if the blade is really, really sharp and I once nearly lost one of my phalanges. (I'm happy to report that no toes were nearly chopped off and Phil did not have to take me to the urgent care for stitches in the making off this salsa.)

The kitchen smelled so good. We each made our own batch and Barb's ended up hot, Emily's was medium, and I, even with three large jalepenos, definitely had the mild stuff going on. Barb's husband John rigged up an outdoor burner so we could have two canners going at the same time. I totally felt so domesticated!

I took a jar of it and some chips to a little gathering we had with Phil's family Saturday night and it was a big hit - along with the blueberry swirl cheesecake I made for dessert. . . because I could certainly never show up over there without dessert. There would be an uprising.