Canstravaganza! Food Preservation 2024

Shelves full of small jars in various colors attest to the bounty of 2024 and my many weekends of chopping, stirring, and canning. I still have jars left from 2023—salsa verde, piccalilli, chow chow—so I didn't make things I still have on the shelf. Make that shelves: Pantry shelves in the laundry room, more stored inside a laundry room cupboard, and a lot stored on shelving in the garage. We can only eat so much salsa verde and the tomatillos were so, so prolific in 2023 I still have some in the freezer.

On a wintery day in early February 2025 I woke to snow on the ground and we had periods of snow falling throughout the day. I decided it was the perfect day to make the kitchen smell like summer. The first canning of 2025 really represents some of the final canning of the 2024 harvest. Not the final final, mind you. I still have blueberries, elderberries, green cherry and grape tomatoes in the freezer. From 2023 I still have big bags of tomatillos and some chopped leeks I've been thinking I might make into soup, or leek jam/marmalade of some kind (maybe this recipe for Leek and Roasted Garlic Jam). And oh my gosh, just realized I have another two full gallon bags of blackberries still in the freezer after that canning session.

Those snowy Sunday recipes:

• Tayberry Jam Recipe by Chef Heidi Fink. 11 quarter-pints, 6 half-pints
• Classic Raspberry Jam Recipe by Creative Canning. 7 quarter-pints, 7 half-pints
• Blackberry Roasted Plum Preserves by Southern Fatty. 8 quarter-pints, 8 half-pints
• Blackberry Plum Fruit Leather: No recipe needed. Pureed blackberries and plums in the food processor, dropped in dollops about the size of a Nilla wafer on the dehydrator trays, and dried overnight to produce little fruity coins by the next morning. Those went into the freezer.

Somewhat belatedly in summer 2024 I started a tally of what I'd made. I reconstructed it by going back through my journal, where I'd usually noted what I made and the yield, and by reviewing what I'd lined up on the shelves. I hadn't always made a note so it's an imperfect record but still gives an idea of volume and variety.

Tally from 2024 canning that doesn't include a fair amount of jerky (mushrooms, jackfruit, cauliflower) that I also made along the way using that old food dehydrator:

June

• Sweet & Salty Pickled Cherries, 10 half-pints, 3 pints
• Quick Pickled (Refrigerator) Red Onions, 6 quarts

July

• Strawberry Rhubarb Jam, 2 quarter-pints, 12 half-pints
• Sweet & Salty Pickled Cherries, 4 half-pints (these are definitely on regular repeat every cherry season in the future!)

August

• Rhubarb Orange Chutney, 9 quarter-pints, 3 half-pints
• Hot Sweet Zucchini Chutney, 9 quarter pints, 8 halfpints
• Blackberry Apple Chutney, 8 quarter-pints, 4 half-pints
• Canned Apples, 1 pint, 3 quarts, 1 1-1/2-pint container
• Blackberry Vinegar, 7 four-ounce bottles
• Smoky, Spicy, Skillet Tomato Jam, 6 quarter-pints, 1 half-pint, 1 pint
• Citrus Ginger Marmalade, 6 quarter pints, 6 half-pints
• Caramelized Onion Jam, 5 half-pints
• Canned Apples, 7 pints

September

• Salted Caramel Pear Butter, 5 half-pints
• Cinnamon Cardamom Pear Jam, 5 half-pints
• Orange Tomato Jam with Smoked Paprika, 6 half-pints
• Maple Applesauce with Cinnamon and Cloves, 7 pints
• Pickled Pears, 3 pints
• Basic Canned Tomatoes, 1 pint, 2 quarters
• Dried Tiny Tomatoes, maybe 2 pints? (didn't measure; did this any time I fell behind the tomato onslaught)
• Slow Oven-Roasted Roma Tomatoes, maybe 2 pints?
• Raspberry Vinegar, 6 four-ounce bottles (no real recipe; did the same thing I did to make the blackberry vinegar)
• Marinated Dehydrated Tomatoes , ~4 quarts
• Zucchini Tomato Salsa, 10 pints
• Apple Mint Jelly, 4 quarter-pints (made without the pectin the recipe calls for)
• Gingered Pear Preserves, 6 quarter-pints, 4 half-pints
• Tomato Citrus Marmalade, 7 quarter-pints, 4 half-pints
• Spicy Tomato Jam #2, 6 quarter-pints, 2 half-pints
• Indian Apple Chutney, 13 half-pints
• Plain Applesauce, 4 pints
• Chunky Caramel Apple Jam, 7 quarterpints, 5 half-pints
• Apple Ginger Jelly, 7 quarter-pints, 5 half-pints
•  Easy Addictive Tomato Chutney, 3 quarter pints, 8 half-pints
• Chai-Ginger Apple Butter, 4 quarter-pints, 1 half-pint
• Tomato Jam, 1 quarter-pint, 6 half-pints
• Canned Apples, 6 pints

October

• Canned Crushed Tomatoes, 4 pints
• Smoky, Spicy, Skillet Tomato Jam, 6 quarter-pints
• Scarborough Fair Vinegar (parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme), 10 4-ounce bottles
• Pickled Hottish Peppers, 3 half-pints (I can't swear that this is the recipe I followed but Chili Pepper Madness is a great site)
• Green Tomato Chutney, 14 quarter-pints, 16 half-pints
• Lacto-Fermented Green Cherry and Grape Tomatoes, 3 pints
• Dehydrated Seasoned Green Tomatoes: Not going to link to because they weren't good enough to repeat. I'm hiding them in batches of soup until they're gone.

Thoughts on the season:

1. I'd make almost every one of these recipes again. (The Chunky Caramel Apple Jam was a bit disappointing; I might grate the apples and amp up the caramel if I repeated it.)
2. I don't need to repeat all these next season, though, because those shelves are packed full!
3. I give some of this bounty away every so often, apparently not often enough.
4. No wonder September 2024 is sort of a blur in my memory.

I blogged along the way to capture recipes I found and those I created. I'm glad I did; it will make it easier when I do buckle up for another ride on the canstravaganza train.

• Blackberry Apple Chutney Recipe
• Green Tomatoes. So Many Green Tomatoes.
• Apples, Apples, Apples!
• Zucchini Tomato Salsa (Everyone Needs Salsa, or, What to Do with a Really Giant Zucchini)
• Tomatoes, Tomatoes, Tomatoes!
• Pears, Pears, Pears!
• Future Marmalade

I'm a Citizen of the CaffeineNation

I love coffee, and coffee loves me back, by which I mean I'm a fast metabolizer of caffeine so I can pretty much drink all the coffee I want all day long. Given that my superpower is sleeping, this means afternoon coffee doesn't disrupt my trips to Slumberland. Years ago while working at WSU Spokane I learned from one of our nutrition researchers that some unfortunate folk are slow metabolizers so they have to cut themselves off from the magic bean. So sad.

Coffee culture entered my life many years ago when I lived in Coeur d'Alene, where I tasted my first latte at The Roastery on Sherman Avenue, since closed. A 16-ounce latte with flavor was $1.85, o best beloved, and I felt so big-city sitting in the space with its wooden floors and high ceiling, the banging of the barista knocking grounds out of the little metal cup, the hiss of the steam. 

I was broke enough that I couldn't indulge as often as I wanted, given that I was divorced with two toddlers and doing freelance copy editing client by client for a living. I'd put $2 cash into a jar when I had the urge to get a latte. Saving those dollars meant I'd have money for a latte or for something bigger, like going to a restaurant with those toddlers and being able to tip the wait staff.

Then I went to grad school and got that job at WSU Spokane, with enough salary to get coffee when I wanted it. I started practicing yoga at a studio right next to The Rocket on Main Avenue. That particular Rocket is also no longer there. For a while that spot was home to Boots Bakery with its fantastic vegan baked goods and comfort foods and good coffee as well. Boots has moved just across the street into the Saranac Commons so that block still has great coffee hang-out vibes.

Fast forward to living in Seattle, where coffee places abound including (shocker!) many that aren't Starbucks. My final job interview for the Washington Bikes executive director position took place at Grand Central Bakery in Pioneer Square, which became a favorite lunch spot when I got that job. Alas, it closed during the pandemic and didn't reopen, although they have other locations (and I'm now living in Olympia anyway).

Once again I had a good job and could latte up whenever I wanted to, and I did. For a while we lived in the heart of downtown and every Saturday I took whatever I was reading to a coffee shop just down the street for a baked goodie and a latte and sat and read a while. I checked recently and that place has changed hands. Since that's happened to most of the coffee places I went to regularly I'm beginning to wonder if it's something about me.... 

But Zeitgeist is still open so no, I'm not a coffeeshop curse. Very near the Amtrak station, it's located in a building attached to the one where my WSDOT office was (next job after WA Bikes) so it was an easy choice on days I didn't explore farther afield. Great spot for a change of venue when I needed to take my laptop to a different space to shake up my thinking.

Jump ahead in time again to the first years of the pandemic when all I wanted was to be able to sit in a coffee shop with the gentle buzz of people around me, but people around me meant danger and possible death. Those third places matter (and the concept of the third place itself is closely tied to coffeehouses).

I now live in Olympia, with a downtown that offers plenty of good coffee and zero Starbucks locations. I don't make as many coffee-shop visits on my own as I once did, although my sweetheart and I regularly go for coffee on our weekend walks. When I'm in a coffee shop now, whether on my own or with someone, I pay attention, the way I did when I was broke and it was incredibly special. What makes it special now is the memory of how the pandemic took that social space away from all of us.

My relationship with tea hasn't been as consistent. I've always associated tea with my Grandma Humphrey (she of the rocker), who came from England to Canada on a ship when she was four and grew up in a tea-drinking British immigrant family. For Christmas I would pick out tea samplers to give her: Earl Grey and English Breakfast and Orange Pekoe.

I enjoy herbal infusions a great deal. To the purist these are tisanes, not tea, because they don't have actual tea leaves in them. They're my hot not-a-coffee cup when I need a change: Red Zinger, Bengal Spice, Lemon Ginger, Throat Coat if I'm under the weather. I have some delightful Scottish Highlands tea thanks to my sister-in-law's travels and it sometimes shows up as my morning cuppa. Millie's Sipping Broth is a more recent discovery, like bouillon but better and contained in a tea bag to make it quick and easy without those crumbs of undissolved stuff in the bottom of the cup. 

None of these are coffee, though. Last year we watched "Spaceman," with Adam Sandler in a very different role as a bearded, morose lone astronaut who encounters an alien. The keeper line from that script: "The hot bean water. It is a ritual."

All this and the annual coffeeneuring rides organized by Mary Gersemalina, too. Bike to a bunch of places and drink coffee too? I'm all in.

No matter what your hot beverage of choice, it comes to your cup by way of a million million actions, to which Michael Cope pays homage in "Tea Ceremony". I'm serving up a few cups of coffee and tea poetry for you below.

"Tea Ceremony" by Michael Cope

To this tea, I pay homage.
To the growth in the bud,
to the cells exchanging
air, water and light, I pay homage.

"Tea" by Leslie Harrison

The tea leaves in their white paper pouch
in their skyblue mug—I’ve brewed thousands of cups

"When My Mother Makes Me Tea" by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

.... There is kindness
in the way she unwraps the tea bag,
my favorite earl gray, the bergamot
floral and strong. 

"Coffee Break" by Kwame Dawes

and the cool air off the hills
made me think of coffee,
so I said, “Coffee would be nice,”
and he said, “Yes, coffee
would be nice,” and smiled

"Recipe for Happiness in Khabarovsk or Anyplace" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand café in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups

"These Days My Music" by Mary O'Connor

when I can’t pray or think or read or make a decision,
I want to be burrowed in a corner with a cold half-cup

"In the Company of Women" by January Gill O'Neil

Make me laugh over coffee,
make it a double, make it frothy
so it seethes in our delight.

"I Allow Myself" by Dorothea Grossman

Charmed as I am
by the sputter of bacon,
and the eye-opening properties
of eggs,
it’s the coffee
that’s really sacramental.