From This Dirt Forward

I want to preserve some of my garden harvest using the age-old practice of pressure canning, but I have an issue that I need to work through first.

This WWII era poster supports my notion that using a pressure canner is like going to war in your own kitchen

I equate using a pressure cooker to playing with matches and dynamite… at the same time.  I know I’m being slightly irrational, but I’ve been conditioned to believe that at any given second this metal capsule may explode, turning my home into the likes of a war zone, blasting glass shrapnel and tomato innards everywhere.

The funny thing is I’ve never even used a pressure cooker.  This is because as a kid I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen while my mom canned our garden vegetables.  (She was convinced that at any given second her metal capsule may explode, turning her home into the likes of a war zone, blasting glass shrapnel and tomato innards everywhere.) 

I recently probed my Mom about this communicable cautiousness (read: neuroticism) and she said that she never had any mishaps in all the years that she canned, but that she inherited her fear of disaster from her Mom.  Ah ha, I see a pattern. This fear of explosion was further traced back to my great grandmother, Dorothy, who I learned did indeed have a substantiated fear of her pressure cooker.  The cause is undocumented, but the resulting post traumatic stress has now spanned four generations. 

At least this WWII poster didn’t try to hide the overwhelming and frightening nature of pressure canning… it’s written all over her pretty face

One summer afternoon long long ago, a young Dorothy was canning beets in her kitchen. Something went awry and glass jars began exploding and beet guts spewed like Old Faithful from the cooker’s steam vent. 

We all know how upsetting it is to burn a batch of cookies.  Now just imagine if those burnt cookies threw a firecracker at your feet, spat in your face, leapt off the tray, and smeared themselves all over your wallpapered kitchen.  I don’t cry over spilt milk, but I think I’d cry over this.

I don’t remember my Great Grandmother Dorothy, but she’s had a profound impact on my food preserving endeavors.  I’m sure this wasn’t the legacy she wanted to pass on to her great grandchildren and it’s certainly not the legacy I want to continue.

Taking the first step on my road to pressurecookerphobia freedom, I recently went to a 3-hour “Canning for Beginners” class.  The mandatory waiver I had to sign didn’t downplay the potentially risky behavior I was about to partake in.  As a small herd of menopausal women crowed into a sweltering hot kitchen, my life hot-flashed ahead 25 years and I couldn’t help but wonder why I was interested in canning carrots (risking “permanent injury or even death”) and not drinking 2-for-1 daiquiris at Ruby Tuesdays with other people my age. 

Then I saw our instructor—a vibrant woman with long blonde hair, a petite figure, a glowing complexion and who appeared far too young to be gushing over her grandchildren.  She made me wonder if I dedicate myself now to growing, preserving and eating healthy, homegrown, organic produce, I can look like her in 20 years.  Probably not, but I’m a believer in long-term goal setting.

Watching her dance calmly (and barefoot!) among the steaming kettles eased my fears even more than her verbal lessons.

The #1 piece of advice I received that evening was that mom’s way isn’t always the best way.  When doing something because “that’s the way my Mom always did it,” you have to realize that that your mom is doing it the way your Grandma did, and Grandma did as Great Grandma did, and so on.  While there are plenty of good tips and tricks to learn from our elders, we shouldn’t ignore the many advances in food preservation equipment and scientific research in recent years.  Doing something just because “that’s the way Mom did it” can lead to a beet juice shower… or worse.

And if patriotism doesn't inspire your victory garden, the thought of your children starving surely will. Fascinating marketing.

I went home and promptly put the strawberry jam that I had recently made without processing (that’s the way Grandma always did it!)  into a hot water bath. (Apparently bacteria don’t give a crap if you flip your hot jars of jam upside down and cover them with a dish towel.)

So now I need to decide (very quickly because the tomatoes are ripening) whether to try and find a new pressure gauge and seals for the old hand-me-down 20-quart Presto collecting dust in our basement or whether to take my own advice and buy a new pressure cooker altogether.  Has anyone canned with an electric pressure cooker?  I need advice!