Ripe Peaches
Some sugar
Vinegar and Salt
Water
Water Bath Canner
Blancher
Jar Puller

This is not a recipe for those who insist on exact measures. Exact measures go against my grain. The day I discovered that food remained edible-even when I did not level the teaspoonful of baking powder I went from a really bad cook to a satiated "consumer" (pardon the pun).

A few weeks ago I realized the days were getting shorter, school was just over the horizon and I was suddenly overwhelmed by a memory - it was 1964 and I am sitting in the kitchen with mom. Boxes of peaches are everywhere, two on the chair, one on the table, another on the counter. The kitchen smells wonderful, and I don't even mind the occasional gnat flying up my nose. The important thing is that I'm in helping mom, and not outside "playing" (something I detested even at he tender age of eight). Mostly, I'm just eating peaches and being very good at "staying out of the way". That good feeling of swatting gnats, eating peaches and listening to my mom crab about the quality of peaches lasted all afternoon. It was Karma. This weekend, I would can peaches.

Like everything else in this world, the price of peaches has not remained the same. Five dollars a box seemed reasonable to me, but $15.00 a lug for Rosa Hales was the reality, I'm afraid. When I inquired as to the yield, the twenty-something girl behind the scales gave me a blank look and next thing I know I talking to "Tim", a much more mature twenty-five something young man. He claimed I should get about 12 quarts per lug - at least that was what his grandma always told him. Oh boy. And "Tim" assured me that Rosa Hales are wonderful canned, they have a beautiful, sunset in the center that makes the jar absolutely glow.

Glow? Did the man say "glow"? My feet were starting for the door, but heart bought the line hook and sinker. Sigh. Why I continue to ignore my instincts, I'll never know.

Knowing my budget would now only accommodate two boxes, 'er "lugs"; I was stymied as to which were ripe enough for canning right away. (another childhood memory surfaced of our utility porch filled with ripening peaches, and mom frantically canning in the evenings because the peaches were "just right".) So I asked, "which box would be perfect for canning tomorrow?"

Yes, I know what you're thinking, but since he was the only "authority" about, I directed that question to the all-wise, all-knowing "Tim". Tim immediately selected a box near the register that was "perfect", rang up my $35.00 (with tax and a soda) purchase, and I was on my way. I waved away the occasional gnat as I drove, happily reminiscing those lazy days of mom's kitchen long ago.

Though the kids were sleeping late, I awoke early the next morning, excited to get started canning peaches. What a hoot this would be!

I started in the pump-house fighting jar spiders. I'm sure you have encountered them - gross, hairy, multi-legged creatures who string webs from rafter to doorway and choose canning jars as their last resting-place? At least they were dead, a good shaking and they (mostly) drop out of the jar. I never did check out the rustling in the far back corner of the pump-house, leaving Mrs. Mouse and her brood to their own means while making a mental note to task the husband with mouse eradication at some point in the future.

After shaking out the remains of either an extremely large jar spider, or the decimated body of a small bird, I was grateful for the sterilize/sanitize cycle on the Kitchenaid.

I was outfitted with two dozen now clean jars, though I started with a third again as many. At least two did not survive the hand wash and sterilization in the dishwasher, and several failed the "chip test".

The more focused my little memory of mom's kitchen, the less happy it becomes. My ears were ringing with her stern voice repeating stories of horrible death and severe illness caused by eating fruit improperly canned in jars that failed to seal. I could not pass even the tiniest flaw in the rim of a jar and another half-dozen jars landed in the glass recycle bin.

It was only ten o'clock and armed with my trusty Ball Blue Canning Book (with pictures!) I was ready to begin.

Part 2 of Canning Peaches!  Smile - We're Still Canning Peaches

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