Well, if my photo counts are correct, on Tuesday I picked up share number 13, this time it was even photographed (unlike share number 12, doh). And once again I am overwhelmed with cucumbers (2+ pounds in the fridge right now). How it is even possible when I live with a boy who is known in his family for eating most of a 5 gallon bucket of cucumbers before they got from garden to house? I have no clue. Wow, that was a convoluted sentence.
Anyway, as I realize that I have 5 tabs (among my 23 or so, yes I have a problem) open with pickle recipes, 3 cookbooks open and then go to my RSS feed to find one more pickle recipe I decide I need to do something about it. Nope, not actually make the darn things, just write about my fears. See, I am afraid to try canning on my own. I remember helping my mom can tomatoes, salsa and green beans (as well as getting onions and potatoes ready for storage and prepping a few other things to freeze) while I was growing up. I swear we even made pickles, oh and jam too (there was a horrible incident involving my mom burning herself while trying to process grape juice). And now preserving food seems to be back – at least among the food bloggers and those trying to become a locavore; but I’m too chicken. Earlier this year a friend called me looking for help on this exact thing. I don’t think she believed me when I claimed I was not up to the task of teaching her to can her own food. I know I did confidently say “start with jam”; if only she could see my foot in my mouth when I decided I wasn’t up to jam either (of course we don’t eat enough jam to make it worthwhile either – a small batch of 6 or so 1/2 pints would probably last 4 years in this house).
I did call my mom yesterday looking for some encouragement, but it didn’t quite work. I still haven’t made pickles yet. Mom’s words of “just pick a recipe and try it” didn’t work so well on this sometimes perfectionist. It turns out mom stopped making pickles since her family just didn’t eat them often enough (and IIRC she never quite got the knack of nice crispy pickles, I have vague memories of limp rubbery homemade pickles which probably explains why my family didn’t eat them enough to warrant the effort). Maybe a call to my MIL will do the trick? I know TheHusband is super happy when he gets a jar of pickles from her.
Also, I thought, after reading a few “rah rah, look at me I made pickles” I’d post my own “eeek pickles are scary post” and hopefully I can follow up with a success story.