Food Preservation to an Extreme

I’ve read that humor is the good-natured side of truth. Verne and I often joke about being enablers. The truth is, we are. Since we met I’ve always encouraged him to pursue his interest in old cars, which has mostly involved buying and storing them. At one count we owned a dozen, a barn (and barnyard) full of rusting old jalopies, with only one having been restored to its former beauty.

Verne's 1952 Chevy Truck

In the same supportive (enabling) way Verne has always encouraged me to pursue my creative interests, whether quilting or crafting. I have boxes of quilting fabric, paints and pencils, and assorted other art supplies. Enough for two lifetimes. That is not to say I haven’t made a few quilts or produced a few frame-worthy drawings or paintings. It is to admit that I may have (slightly) overbought. I hold the enabler responsible for my folly, just as he has often jokingly blamed me for the number of old cars we’ve owned.

We seem to support and encourage (ok, ok…enable) each other to excess. So, it should be no surprise that when it comes to my latest passion, food preservation, we do it to an extreme. Who else do you know would buy 300+ pounds of produce in a matter of two weeks for a household of two? If you missed reading about our U-Pick fun at Sloughhouse, click here. (Note: The 184 pounds of produce I talk about in Moser Fall Harvest was the first trip. We went a second time a few weeks later and came home with another 150 pounds. Yikes!) We keep telling each other that it’s really not as bad as it sounds. The pumpkins and winter squash made up at least half of that weight. I’m here to tell you that it was as bad as it sounds! We spent days in the kitchen preserving tomatoes and peppers in all forms, including frozen and canned jars of tomatoes, salsa, dehydrated peppers, and we even made a dehydrated salsa. Are we beginning to sounds like Preppers? During this same timeframe we made our first-of-the-year trip to Apple Hill and bought a 22-pound box of Bartlett pears. Had our favorite apple variety, Pink Lady, been in season we would have come home with an equal amount of apples. We finished our pear canning project and left the following day for our weeklong trip visiting family and friends in the Pacific Northwest. A much needed break from the kitchen.

That brings me to our most recent excess. We came home from our September driving vacation with 50 half-pints of tuna that Scott and I pressure canned, ten pounds of frozen huckleberries (that await the jam pot), and 45 pounds of Harry & David Bartlett pears. The pears couldn’t wait and within two days of returning we were back in the kitchen canning (shouldn’t it be “jarring”?) pears in a simple syrup, my award-winning pear conserve, and pear ginger jam. I thought we’d never see the bottom of the box. We eventually finished our project and after a few day’s rest we were on to the next food venture.

Me with Joanne and Mike Baldinelli

If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been on a food sourcing mission this past summer and plan to ramp it up in 2017. I read recently that 40% of the food that America grows each year is wasted. Shameful! I want to do my part to help reduce that number. The Baldinelli’s, friends I’ve made through the Master Food Preserver program, are grape growers in the Shenandoah Valley. Mike mentioned that following last year’s harvest they gleaned another 3,000 pounds of grapes, called seconds. I’m not sure if that has to do with the quality of the grape or because it’s the second time picking. I suspect the latter. He offered (I may have asked ;)) to have us over to pick as many grapes as we wanted. This is my kind of fun! Maria and Ruben were back from fishing and I invited them to spend the day with us. I know I’ve said this before, but there is something so special about picking your own food. It was a beautiful fall day. Mike and Joanne joined us in the vineyard and explained the differences to look for between the Zinfandel and Cabernet grapes. The Zin are larger and clusters not quite as tight as the Cabs. Mike gave us buckets and a special knife with a curved blade to cut the clusters from the vines. We picked for over an hour and according to my calculations went home with about a hundred pounds of grapes. 

Maria

Ruben

I’m writing this blog on the third day of juicing over 35 quarts of the stuff. I had no real plan for the juice except to make a batch or two of grape jelly. That was until I drank my first glass of Zin grape juice. It was so delicious I could only wonder why in the world people prefer the fermented version of it. I’m already planning to make grape picking (and juicing) an annual event and have more of our family join in the fun next year.

Before I sign off, I know you must be wondering how we extracted the juice. Readers moderately schooled in home food preservation techniques are thinking we cooked the grapes and then let them drip through a jelly bag. That is one approach that we’ve used for other fruit and it’s okay when making a small batch of jelly. But a hundred pounds? Not ok! We used a Steam Juicer. The fruit (and veggies of any kind) are placed in the steam basket on top and as the produce softens and cells break down the juice is released into a kettle that is equipped with a drain tube and clamp. After about an hour for grapes, longer for other produce, the clamp is removed and the juice flows into a container for storage. Easy Peasy! The juicing possibilities are endless.

Two-Thousand Miles of Fun

I started writing this blog post on the last leg of our 2,000-mile trip in late September to visit family and friends in Idaho, Washington, and Oregon. I should have finished it on the drive home, because it has now been a month since we set out and my memory of the journey has begun to fade. Why has it taken a month? I’ll save that for another blog post.

Our first day was spent crossing the Nevada desert on our way to Caldwell (think Boise), Idaho where Verne’s sister Sue lives. We spent the evening sharing a couple of bottles of wine, enjoying the latest addition to Susie and Jim’s home (a screened-in gazebo), dining at their favorite new restaurant, Horsewood’s, and, in general, catching up.

Sister Susie and Verne

A word about Caldwell…it is not where I would expect to find a trendy, upscale restaurant. Years ago when Jana was a toddler, Verne and I visited Susie and stayed in a hotel that straddled the Indian Creek, which runs right through the center of downtown. I remember looking down from our balcony at the rushing creek and realizing it was definitely something less than fresh water – it carried away the towns sewage. I had visions of Jana, my precious little toddler, falling from the balcony into the sewage and being swept away by the current. I quickly shut and locked the slider that opened to the balcony. That creek of sewage running through the middle of town certainly influenced my opinion of Caldwell for years. However, I have to say it has come a long way over the past two decades and now the Indian Creek is where it’s happening with trendy shops and restaurants. The town has gone through a revitalization over the past 5+ years, which included the building where Horsewood’s is located. The food is all locally-grown and edgy by any standard…pork belly donuts?... I had an excellent meal, but next time I’ll follow Susie’s lead and order the trout with huckleberry sauce. Absolutely delicious! If you’re not familiar with huckleberries, read on…

The following day we met with one of Verne’s friends from his Rib Roof days, Larry Biederman, who settled near Caldwell this past year after moving from SoCal to Oklahoma to Wyoming. Their three adult daughters, who all plan to relocate closer to the parents by the end of 2017, took part in choosing a place to settle and southern Idaho fit the bill with affordable housing and plenty of job opportunities (they all work in the medical field). I have to say their 5+ acres are idyllic with a beautiful brick home at the upper part of the acreage and the rest pasture for their three horses.

Friend Larry Biederman and Verne

By mid-morning we were back in the car and driving north towards Clarkston, Washington to visit my sister, Judy. We stopped for gas and, more importantly, lunch in New Meadows, Idaho. Two things make this noteworthy…first, I experienced my first taste of an open-carry state. While I waited for Verne to pay for the gas four rednecks (no exaggeration) came out of the store all dressed in camouflage clothing and wearing their hip and leg holsters (and handguns) and piled into their jacked-up truck with over-sized tires. It was unsettling to say the least. Not so much that I lost my appetite, though. Which leads to the second, we had another great dining experience at a place called The Intersection. It was as charming inside as out, offered an impressive menu of barbeque, and excellent service.

Great BBQ in New Meadows, ID

We pushed on through the Salmon River Canyon, by way of small towns and past thousands of acres of farm land. A little past Riggins, Idaho we saw a small country store with signs for fresh huckleberries. These are very special berries, because they are only found growing wild in the Pacific Northwest and cannot be cultivated. And, Verne loves them. My first experience (not) eating huckleberries was with Verne. Again, Jana was just a toddler and we’d left her with Flo, the lady who partially raised Verne and his brother, Keith. We drove into town to Wasem’s Drug where they had an old fashioned soda fountain and on that particular day offered huckleberry pie. They also had freshly-made lemon meringue pie, my favorite. We each enjoyed our slice of pie, but it was only as we were eating the last bite that Verne told me how much he loved huckleberry pie and that I’d made a big mistake ordering the lemon meringue pie. The next day after much urging we returned to Wasem’s for the huckleberry pie. But, there was no huckleberry pie. I was told that they only have the pie when they are able to buy the berries from people who harvest them in the wild. I had chosen the common-place lemon meringue pie over this rare and coveted wild berry pie. Disappointed doesn’t describe it. To this day I blame Verne and have not quite forgiven him. So, you can now imagine our excitement when we saw the signs for fresh huckleberries. Ten pounds of fresh huckleberries later we were once again on the road headed for Clarkston. In my excitement over the berries I forgot to take a picture. I guess we'll have to return next year at this same time to photograph the store and buy more huckleberries.

Our next two days were spent in Verne’s hometown visiting with Judy and Darrel and their little dog Misha. Since moving to Clarkston, Judy has established a daily routine of walking the Greenbelt Trail alongside the Snake River. Every morning she begins her days with the walk from her home on 2^nd Street, down a steep set of steps to the river bank, along an asphalt river trail under a canopy of shade trees, and then up the bank to Riverside, down Riverside past the barking dog, and home. Since June I’ve been walking daily and was anxious to share her walk. We did it three or four times during our visit and for me, it was a highlight. I can now visualize my sis walking each morning, carrying her bag of peanuts to feed the squirrels and waving to familiar faces along the trail. 

 Judy walking the trail alongside the Snake River in Clarkston, WA

Darrel took us on a tour around town while Verne pointed out changes since his years living in Clarkston until he joined the Navy during the Vietnam War in 1960, just after graduating from Clarkston High School.

An old banty rooster (Clarkston High School)

Almost 60 years has brought change to Clarkston, just as it has to Caldwell. We had an excellent dinner at a Mexican restaurant, Paraiso Vallarta, just a few blocks from Judy’s home. According to Verne, when he left Clarkston he had never eaten a taco and there was not a single Mexican restaurant (not even a Taco Bell) in Clarkston. There’s not a lot Verne liked about his military experience, but he does have it to thank for his introduction to tacos. We finished off our stay with an evening of cards -- one of my mother’s favorite card games, Progressive Rummy. That’s twice this year we’ve played cards and had a great time.

A sad goodbye until next year

We then headed for our final destination, Portland. As always, we had much more planned than hours in the days to accomplish. However, we had our priorities and one was to attend the Northwest Quilt event that’s held every September in Portland. It was not great this year, but still well worth seeing. I’ve included our personal favorite quilt, which received third place in its category.

Northwest Quilt Show 2016 

Scott and his family spent Saturday with us. Scott and I had a mission…he had purchased 22 pounds of sushi-grade tuna for each of us and we spent Saturday pressure canning it. It’s a long process, so to pass the time we played cards. Yep! We’re becoming quite the card players. This time our game was Crazy 8s – a good game for young (Joshua is only 9 years old) and old alike. Fun! We managed to fit in a trip to OMSI on Sunday. Just to refresh your memory, Lauren is a volunteer at OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry) and always current on events held at the Museum. We attended a special exhibit, Journey to Space, and experienced a zero-gravity atmosphere. It may have been a simulation, but my stomach believed it. 

A trip to Portland is not complete without a few hours at OMSI

We ended our visit with dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory located on the Williamette River.

Waiting for dinner outside the Old Spaghetti Factory

An end to a great vacation

We got up and left for home Monday morning, a full week after beginning our trip. We have several favorite stops along the way, including Medford, Oregon, home of Harry & David Gourmet Fruit. 

We’ve hit it lucky twice now. First time was a few years ago when they were selling their citrus for a few dollars a box. This time they were selling a 45-pound box of premium pears for $25. Each perfect pear (about two days from ripening) was wrapped in tissue paper and carefully placed in the box. The pears we’d already preserved paled by comparison. We couldn’t resist. Verne rearranged the cargo and managed to find space for the box of pears. We headed for home, hoping we could maintain a straight face when asked, “Are you carrying any fruit?” at the California border.