Preserving Summer, Making the Good Stuff Last

I've been on quite the hiatus around here, but it's been in the cause of some very Good Stuff: a new native Californian, my baby girl. So it happened that soon after starting this blog I had to give up wine for a while. However, I've taken the opportunity to enjoy bounty of a non-alcoholic kind, cooking and eating lots of fresh produce. It turns out cooking for a baby is not that hard, and actually inspires me to eat more fresh, simple fruits and vegetables. It also keeps me motivated to use organic produce as much as I can, despite the expense. But more on those topics another day.

            Today, I am savoring the last slow, warm weeks of summer. And for this first time, this year I am trying my hand at some simple preserving, to make the bounty last for months to come.

            My first attempt, a true baby step, was in the spring. I have a peach tree and apricot trees in my yard -- they were here when we moved in to the house, and each year since then I have struggled to make the most of the abundance of fruit, baking cobblers and making ice cream and eating them right off the tree, spreading the gospel of real ripe, honey-flavored apricots (a completely different animal than the tart ones you find in a store), and giving away bag fulls  to anyone who would take them. In the end I always end up with a mess of rotten, sad fruit. All that goodness gone to waste. So, as the peach and apricot season seemed to be trailing off, and no one would accept another bag of almost-overripe fruit, I decided this year I would not fail. I sliced up the fruit (peeling the peaches first) and simply put them in freezer bags, about a cobbler's worth in each, and laid them flat in my little freezer. I'm looking forward to a fragrant, warm peach cobbler in October.

Just add sugar, spices, and a crust.

            Well, that worked pretty well. What else could I preserve? I enlisted my mother's help, and we transformed half a flat of strawberries from the farmer's market into beautiful ruby-red freezer jam. It's really a simple process, no hot water baths or special tools, but I was still a bit daunted -- I used the same recipe my mother and grandmother used, and I remember them sometimes getting runny batches. Perhaps I had beginners luck (or was it those magical strawberries?), because this jam is perfection. The fruit isn't cooked, so the flavor is intensely fresh and sweet. It's like sugary red sunshine. The only problem may be making it last until next summer.

Sunshine in a jar

            Making jam was a big step -- almost like "real" canning -- but also a comfortable one, since my mother has made it almost every year since I was a child. Next it was time to step into uncharted territory.

            In my wild domestic ambition, I planted tomatoes this year -- another first for me. I love a good little cherry tomato, sun-warmed and candy-sweet right off the vine, and I wanted to try my hand. But, I should have remembered the lesson of the peach tree: eating a few tomatoes now and again didn't prepare me for the onslaught my plant is throwing at me! Again I gave some away, but as the tomatoes piled up on my counter, I knew I had to do something.

            I turned to my most trusty cookbook, Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. The recipes are wonderful, ranging from plain (What is this vegetable and what do I do with it?) to fancy (her apple galette with candied lemon slices is wonderful for Thanksgiving dessert). Best of all, though, is her encouraging commentary throughout the book -- personable and wise.

            Pasta sauce seemed like a workable way to use up a lot of tomatoes, although I've never made it before and wasn't sure how well it would freeze. Lo and behold, her margin comments included her tip for freezing tomato sauce: in freezer bags, portioned to meal-sized amounts, laid flat on the freezer floor. Just like my peaches. I felt I had made a connection with my hero chef, and achieved a new level in this quest to understand and enjoy good food. I will count this summer a success.

First attempt at pasta sauce from scratch

            I seeded and quartered the tomatoes, snipped in some fresh basil leaves, put a lid on and simmered it for about 10 minutes. Then I added some salt and pepper and some California olive oil, used an immersion blender to puree it, and I had made my first tomato sauce, adapted from Madison's "Fresh Tomato Sauce" recipe.

            To the portion I set aside for that night's dinner, I stirred in some pressed garlic and and freshly grated parmesan. I spooned it over tender pasta, topped it with broiled, peppered chicken. And then -- I ate it.

            And it was good.