some like it hot: a canning tradition

Seems I always/only have time + excess produce during the one week of summer that the Oregonian deities deem Let’s Scald the Lily White Flesh of Those Fragile Mud Creatures with Scorching Temperatures after a Year of Rain Week.  So let’s just make it a tradition: I can when the temps hit the 90s.   If I lay these plans bestly, maybe they will go awry?

So this time, I managed to snap up some achingly fresh, machete-cut fat asparagus spears and a lug of apricots on special at a glorified farm stand, pickle and chocolate factory, tamale and salsa industrial complex, and tourist mecca in Eastern Washington — Country Mercantile, off I-395. (Their line of preserved foods is impressive — I almost succumbed to the Old World Cabbage pickles and a big jar of preserved mixed fruit, given their rarity, and I tasted about 2 dozen fresh and canned salsas, each excellent.)

That meant I had 5 pounds of perfect asparagus and 20 pounds of perfect apricots to dispatch with…and quickly.

I’m down to 0 pounds of asparagus, thanks to my lightening speed pickling skillz, and 7 pounds of apricots, thanks to the powers of jam and tarte.  Will post more later.  Produce, like all ripe bodies, on the rot.  With miles to go before I sleep.

But before I get back in the saddle, check out this awesome vintage can lifter I bought in an antique store in Helena, Montana.  One-handed lifting, bitches.  I’ll never use one of those clunky two-handed Kerr things again.  If you find one, pick it up.  Highly recommended.

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