This weekend I canned the tomatillos and elderberries in season on the farm. Last year, Mom let the tomatillos reseed in a liberal patch of earth. A veritable jungle of tomatillo vines almost made me turn away from the prospect of picking. My endurance payed off. Picked two baskets full. Many of the ripe ones had fallen to the ground, and had to contend with earwigs and spiders. The smell and lanolin-like residue from the tomatillos stuck to my fingers and clothes when I took the larder into the kitchen for processing. The recipe called for, other than tomatillo's, onions (which we got from the garden), and chiles ( again from the garden), lemon and lime, apple cider vinegar, lot's of garlic, cilantro, cumin and salt. Food processed all the ingredients and put everything into two large stew pots. Let the whole thing simmer for over and hour. Put everything in bottles and sent them all thorough a canning steam bath. When we pulled each bottle from the steam-bath, and wiped them down with a towel--really felt like I was rubbing down a child or my own body from time in a sauna. Some strange, old delight took over. I was the girl making beautiful green salsa--not to mention, the delight in learning the old lessons from my mother, who was taught to can by her mother-in-law--grandma Ruth.
I will tell you about elderberries in my next missive.
1 comment:
I know nothing about tomatillos. NOTHING. I'd like to but they always scare me away for some reason when I see them in the supermarket.
As for elderberries, oh the horror. I remember my Dad making me pick them as a kid, part of his slave labor harvesting scheme. They didn't taste good at all from what I remember and I think he made syrup from them, which I never ate, either because of the association with the picking or because it too tasted vile. :)
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