Today I decided to make some Dilly Beans. I always get nervous when I embark on a canning expedition. I remind myself that women have been doing this for years, that I was in the kitchen many times when my Grandmother was putting jars up, that if the canning knack isn’t genetic, then I certainly must have gleaned a thing or two through osmosis. I then read every book in my possession about canning and search the internet for canning advice. Feeling sufficiently fortified, I proceed.
click on image for larger view
- 1. gathering ingredients
- 2. boiling the lids and rims
- 3. preparing the beans
- 4. daughter #1 lends a hand
- 5. boiling water canning
- 6. what’s that behind the pot? close up of scrapple pig
- 7. ta-da!!
so there you have it. I am waiting for the jars to cool to check the seals — I have heard some promising popping noises coming from the kitchen — perhaps these really will be good, homey beans and not Harbingers of Death.
purlingswine 
Ah, canning! I’m having good memories now of the figs my dad put up while I was home this summer. That popping sound is quite delightful and really gives you a sense of accomplishment.
I think I’ll crack open one of the jars I brought home with me tomorrow for a bit of fig preserve with my morning toast…
The beans look wonderful! Having a shelf full of jars of the summer harvest always helps ease me into winter. Cute pig!
Why you domestic goddess, you! I am too frightened to try canning. But then, I don’t do much in the kitchen. We used to can a years worth of tomato sauce every september with my grandmother. For an extended Italian family, that’s a lotta sauce, let me tell you. We labored for days on end in her hot basement kitchen, boiling, puree-ing, straining, pouring. OK, I’ve convinced myself, I’ve canned enough to satisfy me in this lifetime. Back to knitting for me.