I still haven't got around to making pomegranate jelly. Maybe in a couple weeks. I've been very busy with mostly non-canning activities, but just the other day made a few pints of applesauce that I feel really good about. Now, applesauce isn't one of those really sexy things, but it's nice and comforting and my house smelled wonderful while I was making it. Plus, I had the satisfaction of utilizing apples that otherwise would have been thrown away. You see, my aunt works in one of Philadelphia's magnet schools and they recently had an "apple festival" and resulted in leftover apples no one wanted. So she, being a thrify person who eschews waste, brought them to me. And now, they're apple sauce for my little babe to enjoy this winter.

The other day I roasted a chicken stuffed with some of the preserved lemons from earlier in the season, plus some extra garlic. I really can't describe how wonderful this smelled while cooking. Just too incredible. The chicken tasted good, too, perfumed with spice and just enough citrus. But the really great thing was the broth I made from this chicken's carcass. Basically, I kept the lemons stuffed in the cavity and when the time to make the broth since the usable meat had all been eaten I just put the whole chicken, stuffing and all, into the pot. I added in carrots, a cut up parsnip, a cut up green pepper, more garlic, a couple cloves, a couple peppercorns, a cut up onion and a bay leaf. Please don't think that I'm bragging when I tell you that this was the best chicken broth ever. And, it made the best chicken noodle soup I've ever had in my life. I'm going to document here what I did, so you can see if you like it, but also so that I can do it again someday:

1. Cook the chicken carcass and the vegetables in water to cover for, oh, a while. Your house will smell great, so invite over someone you want to impress.


2. After a couple hours, remove the pan from heat and use a strainer to lift the solids out of the broth. (Don't press on the solids as you remove them so the broth will be clearer.)


3. Chill the broth for a bit so that the fat will rise to the surface and solidify. Now you can skim that off, too.


4. I poured the broth through my strainer again to get whatever little pieces were still in there.


5. In a large saucepan, saute a diced onion and some sliced celery in a little olive oil. When the onion becomes translucent, add the broth.


6. Now add some diced carrots and some frozen peas. (The proportions for all the vegetables are up to you. I like a pretty busy soup, so I used lots.)


7. Add cooked noodles or non-cooked homemade noodles. (I made my own noodles from the "New Basics" cookbook. I'm pretty darn proud of myself and they were awesome).


8. When the noodles are heated through, adjust seasonings and serve.

Whoever joins you in eating this soup will recognize you for the hero that you are. You have made something truly homey and comforting, something that cooks have been making for loved ones for centuries, and you should be proud of yourself.

I don't know what the next few weeks will bring in terms of home life in general and canning, specifically. There are the holidays and final exams, plus we might be moving. I still want to make the pomegranate jelly, which I'll do if I can find a source for the juice. I'm a pretty intrepid cook, but I have to draw the line somewhere and juicing pomengranates is as good a place as any. I'd like to make more mango jam, as it's proven to be very popular in our house. I'd also like to try my hand at spiced apples, which are so handy for ice cream toppings, pies and crisps. So hang in there and, if you have any ideas, e-mail me (my address is a new feature for Hot Water Bath). My friend Sue thinks I should have a message board. Maybe. It's easy for her to say, she's like this technology/programming/computer goddess-type person, whereas I am someone who struggles through a class in ColdFusion. However, I trust her and promise to check out the message board possibilities for all four of you who read this.

The banana bread turned out really good - sort of crispy on top and meltingly banana-y on the inside. The key lime pie was not so successful. I don't make a lot of pies, though, so I'm trying not to beat myself up about it. I'll try again, I'm sure, but I'm thinking that key lime pie is just one of those things that you're not supposed to make at home. Maybe it's only supposed to be bought at diners. Kind of like Salisbury Steak. Does anyone make that at home? Other than heating the frozen kind in the oven, I mean.

The key lime chutney turned out to be magnificent. As did the pickled green tomatoes that followed (I have been alerted that "tomolives" is a brand name, so henceforth my creation will be known as plain old pickled green tomatoes). I also made one quart of tomato salsa, per my husband's special request. I hope it's delicious - I think we would both be disappointed if it weren't. Yesterday I was skulking about for something snacky and opened a jar of hot pickled brussels sprouts and I am really just so proud of myself. They're fantastic.

Lest you think that I'm basking overmuch in the joy of canned goods, let me assure you this is not the case. While watching "The West Wing" last night I ate a
pomegranate and got to thinking how great pomegranate jelly would be. No, really! Ever eaten one? They're kind of a pain because the fruit is also the seed (some people spit the seeds out, but I don't bother as they're very, very tiny) but so beautiful and tasty. The rich red garnet flesh (the word "garnet" is related to "pomegranate" incidentally) and interesting sweet/acid flavor are quite indescribable but worth checking out if you've never tried one. Anyway, the point of this story is that pomegranate is native to Iran and, since the plot of last night's West Wing rerun included the assination of the leader of a fictional middle eastern country, it wasn't long before I developed a whole stream of consciousness rumination on the Middle East in general, and Iraq in particular. I'm not as informed as I ought to be so I've developed a kind of funk that I haven't been able to shake.

I think I'll make some pomegranate jelly to make the funk worthwhile. I had a recipe around somewhere...

Also, just to tie up loose ends, I would like you to know that I recieved a "B" in quantitative methods. I'm exceedingly pleased, since the course was way, way, way out of my field and I feel that passing is a testament to my hard work and diligence. I'm celebrating term break by reading On Rue Tatin, Winston and Clementine and In Her Shoes. I highly recommend any of the three to anyone wishing to escape into a life other than his or her own. Very different, but all very compelling, books. Not a bad way to spend a vacation.

The tomolives and tomatilla salsa are going to have to wait. I rushed in to my neighborhood Whole Foods yesterday just to pick up some flour but ran smack into a display of Key limes. I love, love, love limes and Key limes in particular and restrained myself by buying only one bag (although I'm thinking I'll go back for more). I juiced the limes last night while watching the Philadelphia Eagles lose to the Baltimore Ravens, a game in which both teams displayed rampant mediocrity. (As an aside: Yay! Football season is here! Go Bills!)

Anyway, I'm saving the juice to make Key Lime Pie and just a few minutes ago whizzed up the rinds in my food processor. These are now marinating in salt (Fleur de Sel, specifically) and tomorrow while become some lime chutney. My plan is to cook up the salted, minced rinds with some vinegar, golden raisons and cherries (stolen from my son's snack bin) and dark brown sugar. This sounds to me like it will be pretty delicious and easy to do. Since I am rapidly approaching exam week, and my quantitative methods exam is promising to be a killer, easy is what I'm looking for.

Did you ever have Key Lime Pie on a Stick? It's quite amazing - a wedge of pie on a stick and covered in chocolate. The play of flavors and textures is really neat and one of those things that, while you might think it initially strange, you wind up thinking about all the time. I haven't been to the Keys in four years, but I'd go back in a heartbeat if I was promised some Key Lime Pie on a Stick. While I was there, I'd be sure to visit Nancy Forrester's Secret Garden which is always in danger of being razed for a parking lot, condos or some such developmental monstrosity. Nancy and her friends have collected an astonishing array of amazing plants and they have cool birds, too, just lounging about.

The Key limes I bought were grown in Mexico. I don't think Key limes are actually grown in the Keys any more. I'm not sure why, and I'm not sure I want to find out. Usually when I hear the story behind why some item is no longer produced in the area to which it is/was native, I end up very sad. It's usually a story of greed, overdevelopment, staggeringly bad weather or some combination of all three. Still, the limes I bought looked healthy and smelled incredible so perhaps it's not a horrible story, after all. A girl can hope.

In addition to chutney and pie, one can also make Caipirinhas with limes. Caipirinhas are a wonderful, refreshing cocktail made with limes, sugar, and, in Pennsylvania (home of draconian liquor control policies that outlaw the purchase of any item not on an official "o.k." list), vodka. I was introduced to Caipirinhas by Luciana, a young Brazilian woman living with us as an exchange student and au pair. In addition to her sense of humor, intelligence, good nature and love of children, she has brought to our household the Caipirinhas and we will forever be grateful. There are variations which, instead of limes, use mangos, pineapples or other fruits. On a hot summer night, I can't imagine anything better than a Caipirinha in one hand, a pitcher full on the table and a house full of friends with whom to share.

Must run. The banana bread is just about to come out of the oven. We had a bunch of really, really ripe bananas that I refused to waste. The answer, of course, is banana bread. The house smells incredible and I'm looking forward to that first slice to have with a cup of tea. It's a quiet day here today and that seems like just the thing.

I went to visit my friend Anna and her new baby yesterday. It's funny that although I know a newborn will be small, I'm always suprised that they're small. This baby is now, at about two weeks old, not quite as big as my son was at birth. So, in a real sense, I don't remember my son being so small because I hadn't met him yet. I really don't have a lot of clear memories of those initial postpartum weeks and the squirmy, squeaky infant that relied on me for so very much. Now my "baby" is almost two and sitting next to me playing Duplos with his dad and saying things like, "Here ya go!" and "Cool!" In a blink of an eye the baby I met yesterday will be doing those same things and his mom will get misty remembering his first days. But for now he's small and squeaky and just adorable.

In addition to a couple rompers (sized 12 and 18 months - any parent will tell you that kids grow fast and will need these sizes before you know it) I took over a half pint of mango jam and a pint of strawberry sauce. Anna seemed pleased - I'll have to remember to remind her that this is my first year canning, just in case. Even though I specifically started canning as a way of sharing my love of life and food with my friends and family, I really had to talk myself into taking those jars over. I guess it's a sort of "having your cake" problem. If you start giving it away, then you don't have it to give. To paraphrase the old commercial, "Don't worry, I'll make more." I'm going to get on that right away because when I opened the pantry this morning to make the baby's (uh, I mean "my son's) breakfast, the two spaces where the jars had been seemed gaping. It's becoming clear to me that I'm a full-pantry kind of girl. So maybe there'll be more mango jam coming soon, if I can get a good price.

The tomatoes canned up well, as I knew they would. They're very reliable, but not too heroic. One doesn't get the feeling of having produced something really amazing like I did with the cranberry chutney. Still, I know they'll be useful to have around and will get us through more than one night when no one wants to fuss for dinner and going out is too much of a bother. So now that I've produced something so pedestrian, I'm on the prowl for a really sexy canning recipe.

More and more I'm having the feeling that I'll end up doing tomolives. My friend Jen loves these, and I suspect they'd be great in a martini. They're small green olives that are pickled kind of like an olive, hence the name. Since I have a couple tomato plants that are about to kick the bucket, tomolives could be just the thing to keep from wasting all the fruit that doesn't ripen. I think Jen would be pleased to get a couple of jars of homemade tomolives. Then again, I think her husband usually gives her a jar in her Christmas stocking and I wouldn't want to stomp all over his tradition.

Tonight the baby (scratch that, I mean my son), friend Kelly and I are heading out to our CSA for a summer social after spending some time swimming at her dad's house. The farm has asked everyone to bring a dish to share and I made a beet risotto. It looks kind of, well, fuschia, and at first I didn't like it. After a couple bites it grew on me, though. Just goes to show you that sometimes you have to keep trying things even after you think they're not for you. You'd think as a grown up, I'd know this by now. In case you want to make it, here's the recipe:

two or three beets, scrubbed and diced

two shallots, peeled and diced

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup arborio rice

1 cup of dry white wine

5-6 cups of warm vegetable or chicken stock

1 cup finely shredded parmesan cheese (not from a can!)

salt and pepper to taste

Heat the butter and oil together in a wide, shallow pan over medium heat until blended. Add the shallots and saute until translucent. Add the rice and stir so that the rice is coated with the fat. Add the beets and stir to blend with the rice. Stir in the wine and continue stirring until the wine is mostly evaporated. Add the stock, one cup at a time, stirring until nearly evaporated. After the last cup has been added, taste a grain of rice to test tenderness. The rice should be firm, but have some give. If the rice is still hard, add some more stock, wine or warm water. When the rice is done, the grains should be distinct, but bound together in a starchy "sauce." Stir in the cheese and rosemary. Taste and correct seasonings with salt and pepper. The beets will be tended, but still somewhat crunchy. The dish will be very, very red!

The cranberry chutney turned out great. Sweet, sour, citrusy and smooth all at once. Everything a chutney should be. I want to make more chutney and might try next with a recipe from one of Laurie Colwin's food books. Notice I don't say "cookbooks." Laurie Colwin wrote about food in all of its aspects, not just actually making it. Anyone interested in shopping for, preparing, enjoying, serving or just generally being around food should check out her books "Home Cooking" and "More Home Cooking." .

After chutney day, I realized that I had an abundance of tomatoes and decided to do crushed tomatoes next. I use a ton of crushed tomatoes (in chili, "Mexican" rice, vegetable stews, toppings for couscous, pizza, and so much more) so I thought that tomatoes would be a logical next thing to try. I remember my mom canning jar after jar of tomatoes and how messy the kitchen would be. The thing is, I know this is a false memory. My mother is a fastidious person and would not tolerate a mess on the part of the tomatoes. They simply wouldn't dare to be anything less than tidy. In my kitchen, though, all bets were off and there were tomatoes everywhere.

I had a bunch to process because, in addition to joining a CSA this year, we planted six tomato plants which have proven to be a study in victory over neglect. We seriously have not done a single good think to these planst except for maybe watering now and again and we have dozens and dozens of tomatoes. The CSA has sent home probably about another dozen or so. Since we simply could not eat them all the way I really prefer (just sliced and topped with a little parmesan), they had to be canned. Strictly speaking, they're not the "right" kind of tomatoes for canning. These are regular slicing tomatoes and all of the books specifically say to get the plum type since they are meatier and have fewer seeds. Well, bully for them. I don't have plum tomatoes, I have slicing tomatoes so that's what I'm going to use. So far, I've done the following:

1) Dip tomatoes into boiling water for 30-60 seconds, or until the skins split.

2) Dip hot tomatoes into cold water and slip the skins off (you know, I never knew what that meant until the other day. The skins really do slip right off as if the tomato had just been trying on a sweater. Strange.)

3) Put all of the peeled tomatoes into a big pot and smash, smash, smash them.

4) Refrigerate pot of tomatoes until after Wednesday night's Linear Programming class, when you can process them.

So this is where I am in the whole tomato experiment. I figure a little lemon juice and kosher salt, along with about an hour on Wednesday night should get me a couple of pints of crushed tomatoes. Once I figure out how I'm going to finish the whole business I'll let you know.

The CSA, in addition to providing such wonderful slicing/canning tomatoes, has also sent home a few dozen cherry and grape tomatoes in yellow and red. These, I'm not ashamed to say, I did not share with anyone else in the house. I sliced them, drizzled them with a bit of Chaivetta's Italian Dressing (which, although not available in most of the country, is worth ordering - it is hands down the best herby/spicy "Italian" dressing I have ever had - plus, if you buy it you'll be supporting a small business in the face of increased standardization in our food supply). A sprinkle of pepper feta and a few pine nuts later and I was in tomato heaven.

A confession: I am a canning fool. That is, a fool who regularly cans. I have lots of great memories of my mom canning in her cramped kitchen, scalding tomatoes and puting cooked apples through her moulinex. She made her own spaghetti sauce, apple sauce, lots of kinds of pickles, jams and whole fruits. My sisters and I never really helped, nor were we particularly enthused with the products of all her efforts. Only now, as adults, are we embracing the canning gene with which we were blessed and plunging headlong into the ancient art of food preservation.

One sister is addicted to pickled vegetables. She and her husband make jar after jar of dilled carrots and beans. My youngest sister produces excellent tomato salsa and dilled beans (she gave me a gift of the latter after my son was born and I was shameless enough in my post-partum state not to share it with anyone!). We are not competitive canners, but rather we encourage each other, somewhat mystified as to our canning choices. My mango jam is regarded as slightly odd, while I have my doubts about the pickled carrots.

So far this summer, I've produced the aforementioned mango jam, strawberry sauce, perserved whole cherries, black bean and corn salsa, pickled beans, pickled asparagus, pickled brussels sprouts and something else that I can't remember now. Tonight I'll be putting together a nice cranberry chutney. If I have time, I'll process it tonight. If not, I'll just keep it until tomorrow for when there's no where I have to be.

Cranberry Chutney:

- 3 bags of fresh cranberries
- 1 6 oz. can crushed pinapple
- 3 tablespoons of candied ginger, chopped
- the flesh of one medium orange, chopped
- 1 cup of chopped celery
- 1/2 cup of golden raisons, dried cherries, etc.
- Up to 1 cup of sugar
- 2 tablespoons white vinegar (5% acidity)

Basically, you're going to put all of this into a pot and cook it down until the cranberries pop and the whole thing gets thick and somewhat jelled. Remember, this is a chutney, not a cranberry "jelly" so it doesn't have to be very solid or jam-like. Taste. If you think it's too sour, add more sugar. If you think it's too sweet, add a bit more vinegar. Fill hot, sterilized canning jars with the chutney, clean the jar rims with a paper towel dipped in hot water and seal. Process for 15 minutes in a boiling hot water bath (start counting after the water resumes boiling).

So, this is the grand chutney plan. I'll let you know how it works out.