The kitchen floor so needs a mopping

Never in a gazillion years did my high school, college, or 20-something self ever think I would have what I am now quite proud of: a canning shelf in my pantry.

Sure, the shelf and the pantry have been there all along. I am just now using them for a new purpose. And actually, the pantry is sort of an extra one. It’s a closet outside the kitchen that I forgot was there for our first year or so at Woodhaven. I try not to spend too much time in the kitchen. Can you tell?

Anyway, we call this extra storage “The Cat’s Pantry” since that’s where we stored various Brad paraphernalia like his kennel. Other odds and ends have slowly migrated in there without much linking them other than they are things I don’t use often, like my grandma’s non-dishwasher-safe china, a food dehydrator, and a Costco pack of plastic utensils. And now, lots of glass jars with measurements etched on their sides.

Our summer this year has been unusually hot and dry, reaping a bounty of homegrown produce that Woodhaven has never seen before. Produce just begging to be preserved and savored on a dark rainy night in the middle of February.

I quite enjoy canning, now that I am mostly past the terror of possibly making a mistake that might kill all who dare try my hot-water-bathed treasures. The first year I tried peaches. Next was blackberry jam. Last year I made pickles. One crop per season. Seemed reasonable and it kept it novel and amusing.

This year, however, has been altogether different. After clearing one pantry shelf to make room for the 2009 vintage of pickles, I had to clear another for the corn. Then last week came the blackberry jam. Tomorrow will bring salsa. I am awash in wide-mouth jars topped with Sharpie dates on their lids. For future reference, 100 ears of Sugar Dots corn yields 31 pints canned in a borrowed pressure cooker. That was a slightly uncomfortable afternoon, as Rob and I questioned the wisdom of having what is essentially a bomb rattling on our stove for 55 minutes. We are also still trying to figure out why the process of canning the corn left our kitchen smelling of brussel sprouts. But I digress.

As much as I love our garden and the tasty goodness that comes out of it (fresh-picked lettuce is incredible. I had no idea.), I am getting a bit tired of my canner and all things labeled “Ball.” I had a lazy day planned for myself today but then the tomatoes and peppers announced they were ready to be picked. As Rob carted in about 6 gallons’ worth of salsa ingredients, my back spasmed at the thought of the day spent chopping, blanching, peeling, crushing, and boiling. After some counsel with my resident farmer, Rob and decided we will can salsa together tomorrow instead. Just as soon as I clear a little more room in the pantry.