Figs, Figs, Everywhere

My grandfather Sam spent most of his life trying to grow figs, before climate change made it ridiculously easy in our bioregion.

That is the one good thing I will ever say about global warming.

This time of year, my nephew Mike Ryan (as big a madman as I am) will text me with a "hey, Uncle Cheapass! I want them damn figs!" and I deliver, delighted that one person in my extended family at least loves fresh figs as much as my grandfather and dad did. Or as much as my wife and I do now.

Growing fig trees is not that hard, once they get established. Chicago Hardy is a variety that works well here. Further south Brown Turkey is a good bet.

But what to do with the thousands--and I am not kidding--of figs that even four trees can produce in a year? Here's the plan, Stan.

 And where do we go for ideas about how to deal with lots of excess fruit or veg? Why the National Center for Home Food Preservation, of course!

They feature the best canning recipe ever for fig jam. Even non-canners could make this one work. It cans in a boiling-water bath in 5-10 minutes, depending upon the size jar.

We have not bought jam in years, in consequence. Plant some fig trees and give it a try. Sam would be so happy to know that folks are growing figs. Once you get in the habit, you'll never let it go.

Applesauce! Yes, You Too Can Can This

You need not be a can-can dancer, though that might be fun, to put up applesauce.

Our trees produced about a bushel this year, a record. We were proactive with copper-sulfate spray to thwart blight, and I will try it again next year, 

We also head to Fruit Hill Orchard in Palmyra VA a few times in September and October, as their harvest comes in. We end up with lots of apples.

I found this recipe, perfect for the novice canner, at The National Center for Home Food Preservation, my go-to for safe canning advice. You can can applesauce in either a boiling-water or pressure canner. It cans fast and, in my pressure canner, with only 5 lbs pressure. How fast? I wrote this post while the sauce sat in the canner.

Nothing from the store tastes as good.

Doesn’t that sound like more fun than looking at a screen? So print the recipe, go pick a bushel, and make some sauce. Now.

Two Amish Dudes Save Our Pantry

I wrote last year about how silly it is building an economy around going out to eat. It's terrifying to think about my students, with parent-provided credit cards, eating out several times per week.

I still hold that idea that a foodie economy is doomed in the long run, though I'm a "foodie" and love nice meals. I also love eating in restaurants. Yet it's too easy, when worn out from work, to say "oh, let's get a pizza." That way lies going over-budget for the month. Even where we live in the country, a really nice pizza place is no more than 20 minutes away.

So what to do? I find it hard not to scream at them, when friends tell me "oh, today we went out to XYZ and had the delightful ABC." I can imagine the $40 tab per person, for lunch. At dinner? Might be $100 per diner.

Nope nope nope. Spending that much green money on a regular basis is insane. So what do we do? Do we eat franks and beans nightly, like Ralph and Alice Kramden? Children, Google that or have your AI explain who they were and why the Kramdens were once culturally important.

No, though I enjoy both Hebrew National Franks and Bush's "Country Style" beans, one need not eat them nightly to pinch that penny until it hollers. There is the Amish option. We can our own produce quite a bit, but it does not tend to be green veg. Imagine my delight when I found Jake and Amos products at The Cheese Shop near the farm where we buy all of our chicken feed. Once per month, we drive to the Shenandoah Valley to get provender for the birds and side-dishes for us. 

I contacted the company, headquartered in Myersville, PA, to find out if Jake and Amos are real. If they did not exist, we would need to invent them.  As of this post running, no reply.

 Tonight (yes, Hebrew National Franks!) we had pickled asparagus, beets, and mushrooms. Dinner issues? Solved. And what taste! For most of my life, I've associated canned food with limp, lifeless veg. That's doubly so since I began home canning. We cannot do it all,  however, so it was a joy to find a product to fill in where our garden cannot.

Fill that larder. Say no to expensive restaurant meals, making them a well-deserved and rare reward on special occasions. The Amish would approve.

Better Safe Than...Botulism

When my weirdo friend Gary and I were little, as precocious little boys with a love of reading do, we would say the names of ailments and diseases. We would then laugh like busy pint-sized demons.

Leprosy!
Jungle Rot!
Hernia! (This one we thought should be a first name)
Rickets!
Malaria! (Also a name)
Botulism!

Not so funny now, and we've lost Gary (to none of those listed).  For my part, I want to avoid Botulism if I can. When I can. During canning.

I put up a fair quantity of my Middle-Eastern tomato sauce this year, using my typical recipe and adding lemon juice to each jar, as today's varieties are not as acidic as those our grannies grew.

And being stupid, I canned them in a water bath, as I have long recommended at this site. All the jars sealed, but today I'm going to pop the lids, empty the jars, re-sterilize them, add more lemon, reheat the sauce, refill and can the jars in my pressure-cooker canner.

Why all that work? One, I love that sauce. Two, the jury is out on water-bath canning or pressure-cooker canning for tomato sauces, with my canner's manual recommending boiling water for salsa (is my recipe that?) and the National Center for Home Food Preservation (yay academia!) recommending pressure-cooker canning for spaghetti sauces without meat. Here is their FAQ page. They wisely advise on that page "The specific recipe, and sometimes preparation method, will determine if a salsa can be processed in a boiling water canner or a pressure canner. A process must be scientifically determined for each recipe."

So let's call my sauce vegetarian spaghetti  (without even one meatball and therefore, no bread. Google that one). And I will use the pressure-cooker method the National Center recommends, since it guarantees that food reaches 240 degrees. That will kill off any bacteria that can cause botulism. 

Boiling water is not hot enough.

Friends, do not trust all the homesteading and DIY-bloggers on this matter. Go with the scientists, and good luck with your late-season food prep.

Keep a Lid on it! The Right Lid.

Tattler reusable lids at work

My year in the garden has been "interesting," as in five Copperhead snakes in with our animals or at my feet, suddenly.

I thought my post would be about snakes, but there's something far more lethal in many homes: canning lids. 

We do a lot of canning every year: four gallons of Middle-Eastern tomato sauce, strawberry and fig jams, sometimes pickles. I go through a stack of lids.

During the pandemic, more than a few friends decided to try home canning. I've long extolled the virtues of the National Center for Home Food Preservation, my go-to for canning advice. Yet they are silent about something that happened to me the first time this year: cheapass canning lids.

In the Fall, a massive shortage of lids emerged. It might have been the prior President's stupid trade war with China, with its associated bottlenecks. It might have simply been demand. In consequence, I bought a bunch of lids from Amazon, and several in each batch this year have "buckled."  Read more about the phenomenon here. The food is still good, but the jars must be processed again or put in the refrigerator.

Buckled lids. Re-processed with Tattlers

Eating from such a jar after it has sat on a shelf a while? It might prove fatal. 

I'm relegating my cheapass Chinese bargain lids to the storage of dehydrated foods in mason jars I keep in our freezer, for stockpiling dry beans, lentils, rice, and other staples with an oxygen-absorber pack. For canning? I'm again experimenting with US-made Tattler reusable lids. I've had some for a while, and I found that when one follows their directions exactly, they work wonderfully for up to a year (I usually eat my canned food by then). Some users of the lids complain about them not sealing, but I suspect they don't read directions well. We have yet to have a problem.

My other fall back? Paying high prices to get a couple of boxes of Ball-brand lids. They have yet to fail me and though the Muncie, Indiana plant has closed, the products are still made in the US and Canada. They will be there if the Tattlers disappoint.

Does all this rage matter? Yes, and not for geopolitical reasons. The Chinese lids are often lower quality, and there are reports (well, it's the Internet) of scam-lids made to look like Ball lids but made to lower standards in China.

So spend a few more bucks on a trusted product. Boutulism? Now that is expensive.

Fermenting Fool

 

Look out, Sandor Katz. I read your book.

Actually, I use his work as reference, as well as many good (and a few dubiously gushing) Web sites to guide me as I learn the arts of lacto-fermentation. What, pray, is that?

You've eaten fermented foods your whole life, if you enjoy kimchi you've had it. Likewise sauerkraut, if it came from someone's kitchen and not a factory jar.

Wikipedia's definition, however, seems to come straight from a high-school chem lab, so I'll try some of the fermentation-fanatic sites for a warmer vibe. Here's a nice definition by Danielle at Fermented Food Lab:

 Lacto-fermentation is the oldest form of food preservation in the world. It involves only salt, water and vegetables. The salt water brine creates an anaerobic environment (free of oxygen) where only lactobacillus bacteria can survive. The lactobacillus bacteria act as a preservative, keeping harmful bacteria from living in the ferment. 

Yes, I too was dubious about this entire business, imagining a lingering death. I've drunk kombucha, mostly out of courtesy to those insisting it is the drink of immortality. Save for one or two times,  I found it dreadful.

My purpose in fermenting things has been to make great ice-box pickles, kraut I can, and the holy grail: golden pepperoncini, my food of the gods. This season I fermented other peppers, notably jalapeño slices and Thai Dragons (whole). For really hot peppers of that sort, fermenting takes the edge off the heat.

I don't offer recipes here. To get started, however, you can consult my gold standard: The National Center for Home Food Preservation. No New-Age mysticism or miracle cures there, just trustworthy advice that will not make you sick. Start there for pickles and kraut and basic how-tos. After that, venture into the briny wilds of the Interwebs. Experiment, carefully.

 Suffice to say I've learned a few things:

• Adding a grape leaf to the fermenting crock helps keep veggies crisp.
• Fermented foods store in the fridge a long time. I do add a bit of vinegar to the top of the jar, heresy to some who ferment but one of my favorite ingredients. My kitchen, my rules.
• Hot, humid weather really shortens the time needed. My ferments in Fall take take several more days. Keep the crocks away from sunny windows, in any case.
  
• Brine matters. I found an excellent online calculator you might wish to try, to get the right percentage of brine for your crock.
• Cheap Morton Kosher or Pickling salts are excellent. Perhaps pricey sea-salt would change things, but my uncultured palate barely can sense a difference. Just do not use iodized salt. 

If you find a good recipe for crisp, flavorful okra, let me know. That was my only fermenting failure this year. And how I love okra.

A Recipe for Middle Eastern Tomato Sauce

 

You have a garden or farmer's market. Use them, and learn to put up food. It's a great benefit of the extra time we have now during this pandemic.

 I was asked for this, and every year I have enough tomatoes to put up about 8 pints, if not more. This will make four quart jars for canning...maybe.

• Gallon pot of tomatoes, any kind, cut up (Romas and similar will make a thicker sauce). You can peel them if you wish. I don't
  
• One onion, chopped
• Six cloves garlic, or more, minced
• Green pepper chopped small
  
• Tablespoon of dry oregano (use less if chopped, fresh)
  
• Other dry herbs such a basil (tablespoon, crushed) or thyme (up to a tablespoon, crushed). Use less if chopped, fresh
• Teaspoon cinnamon
• Teaspoon allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper or more to taste
• Teaspoon salt or more to taste
• (Optional) 1/2 teaspoon hot pepper flakes.
  

 

That's really it. I often cook the tomatoes down a bit first, bringing them to a boil in a heavy dutch oven, then pressing them down with a potato masher to release the juice. The trick is very slow cooking, and I let the sauce simmer on a simmer-setting burner, with the top tight or just loose enough for steam to escape.
 

Watch the pot and stir occasionally to avoid thing burning. Cook until thick, at least 8 hours!

This makes a great base for lots of Lebanese dishes and it can also become chili con carne, pasta sauces, and more. 

I brown ground lamb and add it, then serve it over basmati rice. Or chop and fry up some okra and add it. You can't go wrong.

It cans well, with the water-bath method.  One thing: be SURE to follow recipes well, including adding citric acid or lemon juice in particular! Granny had more acidic tomatoes than we do today.

Update 2022: I now use a pressure cooker method recommended by The National Center for Home Food Preservation. Their spaghetti sauce recipe is closet to this one in terms of processing safety to avoid botulism.

Dehydrating Food: First Efforts

As much as I love canning, I have been eager to try my hand at dyhydrating food. It offers some advantages for processing, and unlike my canned goods, dry ingredients do not need refrigeration after opening.

Originally we'd set our hearts upon a solar dehydrator, to the point where I'd purchased a book on how to build one. That ran into a snag right away, though "damp and horribly moldy blanket" might be the preferred metaphor. Central VA summers are too humid for solar dehydration to work, though getting an oven to 125 degrees would be as simple as sitting a box outside on any sunny day from late May to early September.

The Cabelas sporting goods chain sells units that range in size from a large toaster oven to a full-sized range. All of them circulate air over the food as it dries out. For small items like garlic flakes, I put parchment paper on top of each wire tray. Do not use waxed paper unless you enjoy making a melted mess. I was happy to discover that online before my first attempts.

We chose a mid-sized unit the size of  dishwasher that holds many trays of fruit or vegetables.  at 80 pounds boxed, I could easily lift it onto a small table in our shop, where mice won't crawl as easily into the works to make nests.  Plus we have at least one black snake there, on the prowl, helping me with mouse-management strategies.

Our first efforts involved a bunch of organic bananas, and the results impressed me. I set the unit to dry the overnight, and by breakfast we had bananas dry but not crunchy; they maintain good flavor and we stored a quart jar of them out of the sunlight in our cabinet. No sign of mold, yet.

We do not grow bananas, but we do grow several pounds of garlic that I cure in an unheated utility room off the side of our house. It stays warm without freezing; the year before, I hung the garlic up from the ceiling in our root shelter to keep mice at bay. This season, however, I used a lot of the garlic and just stepping down into the utility room made the process really easy.

Two sites advised me on drying garlic. I found the advice at Self Reliant School excellent overall, but I did not wish to vacuum seal the jars. That step adds an expensive piece of equipment. Then I asked Dave, the author of the Our Happy Acres blog about this processing. He assured me that sealed jars left out of daylight would keep a year. That's enough for my purposes. Here are my results.

We used the hand-cranked food processor advised by Jennifer at Self Reliant School; Amazon seems short on them, but I found one on eBay for under $20, new, with free shipping. It made short work of the process, though there was no short cut for peeling 5 pounds of garlic cloves! The processor was sturdy enough to endure the work and cranking it required no great effort. I did freeze all but the center jar; dried garlic thaws well and can be put right into the pantry.

My next week involves peeling and chopping about 5 pounds of carrots that overwintered in the soil. I cooked a few and they taste great. Now we'll extend the harvest with them, as well. Look online and  you'll find many recipes. Unlike canning, this food is simpler to process. It will be safe as long as you dry it thoroughly and store it well.

Overwhelmed By Tomatoes? Get Crackin' Now!

Time for my annual exhortation to can your own vegetables.

I'm abnormal when it comes to modern American life; I cannot identify most TV shows or celebrities, but I can tell you more than you'd want to know about what a friend calls "fierce hobbies," such a model making, reloading my own ammunition, or, yep, canning. All of them require a lot of attention to detail and tend to focus the mind and body completely.

Yet of them all, canning is perhaps the most gentle and productive. A few generations back, many folks, urban or rural, did it every summer. And to be honest, the longest part of making good tomato sauce for canning is slow-cooking it. The canning can be done in two hours. So please do not tell me you lack time to can your own sauce. There are few more rewarding things in one's kitchen, in the dead of winter, than opening a jar and evoking summer again.

As to how to do it? I've long favored a U Georgia site for the scientific principles espoused in the recipes.   Now that tomatoes are cheap, why not save some money and put up a few gallons?

Some advice if  you are ready to get cracking with this wonderful way to save the harvest. Modern tomatoes lack the acidity of older varieties, and even when I can heirlooms, I add a teaspoon of lemon juice to every pint jar.  I also tend to pressure-can tomatoes these days; granny never did, but the science of food preservation has come a long way. Cherish her recipes but use modern techniques in the canning kitchen. I employ both my first canner, a Presto, and my heavy duty All American Canner for summer chores. Great advice on canning marinara sauce, as well as a decent recipe, can be found here.

I have little time for folks who tell me "I don't have time to do [insert DIY activity]."  If one were to count the hours and hours wasted on the "smart" phone or watching videos of people injuring themselves, there would be enough time to restore a Model T or build a lake cottage.

Get Cracking. Summer is swiftly passing us by and the boxes of canning tomatoes will soon be gone from the farmer's market.  If  you grow your own, I find that a bushel of tomatoes yields about 3 gallons of finished sauce, depending on the variety of tomato and how much you cook it down.