Keep Hoping Machine Running (
thefourthvine) wrote2010-11-06 09:53 am
[Garden] What Next?
The status of the garden in three conversations:
1.
Me: Hi, guys.
Tomatoes: HI!
Me: Look, um. It's, you know, the middle of September.
Tomatoes: Fascinating!
Me: So. Well. What that means is, fall is coming.
Tomatoes: Yay!
Me: Yay?
Tomatoes: Spring was great. Summer was EVEN BETTER. Obviously, fall will be the best yet.
Me: Um. Gosh, this is awkward. See - you're supposed to die in the fall.
Tomatoes: No way! Get out!
Me: Yeah. I'm sorry, but it's true. So, I was thinking - maybe you should dedicate a little more energy to finishing off the tomatoes you've already got going, and maybe a little less energy to making new branches and flowers?
Tomatoes: No.
Me: No?
Tomatoes: No. Good chat, though.
2.
Me: It's the middle of October now.
Tomatoes: Isn't it wonderful?
Me: I notice you're still doing the branch and flower thing.
Tomatoes: We're not just making tomatoes, we're making tomato infrastructure! We're planning for the long haul! We're going to synergistically leverage our incentives as soon as we figure out how!
Me: You know, I was going to plant a winter salad garden where you are. But I can't, because you won't stop growing. Even though you're clearly supposed to.
Tomatoes: According to who?
Me: A lot of books. I'd be willing to read the relevant bits out loud.
Tomatoes: Hah. Books.
Me: Tomato plants cannot live forever.
Tomatoes: We plan to try.
Me: So that's a no on the graceful decline thing?
Tomatoes: Sure is!
3.
Me: GUYS. IT'S NOVEMBER.
Tomatoes: I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky!
So, yes. It's November, and my tomato plants are, in total defiance of everything my gardening books say, producing not only tomatoes but also flowers and new shoots and everything. Still, I'm prepared to call this the end of the season, and trust that sooner or later the tomatoes will also figure that out.
The question becomes: what next? I actually started gardening because of an urban homesteading book I read. I figured that if I can do it, we don't need to worry about the end of oil or the zombie attacks or the apocalypse or whatever, because anyone can do it. I'm the Most Hapless Homesteader. But obviously my homesteading journey has only just begun.
So I made a list of potential homesteading tasks I could learn to do next (or relearn to do, in the case of the one I've already done), and I'm going to ask you guys to vote on them. You should get some say, since I will almost certainly post about the inevitable disaster here. (Also, if it goes anything like gardening, the results could actually trigger the apocalypse, and in that case, I would like some company in the blame department.)
1.
Me: Hi, guys.
Tomatoes: HI!
Me: Look, um. It's, you know, the middle of September.
Tomatoes: Fascinating!
Me: So. Well. What that means is, fall is coming.
Tomatoes: Yay!
Me: Yay?
Tomatoes: Spring was great. Summer was EVEN BETTER. Obviously, fall will be the best yet.
Me: Um. Gosh, this is awkward. See - you're supposed to die in the fall.
Tomatoes: No way! Get out!
Me: Yeah. I'm sorry, but it's true. So, I was thinking - maybe you should dedicate a little more energy to finishing off the tomatoes you've already got going, and maybe a little less energy to making new branches and flowers?
Tomatoes: No.
Me: No?
Tomatoes: No. Good chat, though.
2.
Me: It's the middle of October now.
Tomatoes: Isn't it wonderful?
Me: I notice you're still doing the branch and flower thing.
Tomatoes: We're not just making tomatoes, we're making tomato infrastructure! We're planning for the long haul! We're going to synergistically leverage our incentives as soon as we figure out how!
Me: You know, I was going to plant a winter salad garden where you are. But I can't, because you won't stop growing. Even though you're clearly supposed to.
Tomatoes: According to who?
Me: A lot of books. I'd be willing to read the relevant bits out loud.
Tomatoes: Hah. Books.
Me: Tomato plants cannot live forever.
Tomatoes: We plan to try.
Me: So that's a no on the graceful decline thing?
Tomatoes: Sure is!
3.
Me: GUYS. IT'S NOVEMBER.
Tomatoes: I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky!
So, yes. It's November, and my tomato plants are, in total defiance of everything my gardening books say, producing not only tomatoes but also flowers and new shoots and everything. Still, I'm prepared to call this the end of the season, and trust that sooner or later the tomatoes will also figure that out.
The question becomes: what next? I actually started gardening because of an urban homesteading book I read. I figured that if I can do it, we don't need to worry about the end of oil or the zombie attacks or the apocalypse or whatever, because anyone can do it. I'm the Most Hapless Homesteader. But obviously my homesteading journey has only just begun.
So I made a list of potential homesteading tasks I could learn to do next (or relearn to do, in the case of the one I've already done), and I'm going to ask you guys to vote on them. You should get some say, since I will almost certainly post about the inevitable disaster here. (Also, if it goes anything like gardening, the results could actually trigger the apocalypse, and in that case, I would like some company in the blame department.)
Poll #5001 Homesteading
Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 415
Which scary homesteading task should I probably fail to learn next?
View Answers
Baking bread
292 (70.4%)
Composting
167 (40.2%)
Keeping livestock
33 (8.0%)
Making cheese
85 (20.5%)
Making preserves/preserving food
169 (40.7%)
Making soap or detergent or whatever
37 (8.9%)
Making wine or beer
62 (14.9%)
Making yogurt, sour cream, or butter
96 (23.1%)
Sewing, patching, darning
117 (28.2%)
Woodworking
38 (9.2%)
Please stop now, while you still have your limbs and we still have a planet
38 (9.2%)

no subject
So, for applesauce I'd recommend quart jars; last year we canned applesauce in little half-pint jars and the truth is that you rarely want less than a half pint of applesauce at a time (especially since we bake with it). But you can ttly do half pint jars if you think it's more your applesauce speed.
To make the applesauce (apologies if you already know this; I thought I'd explain anyhow): take LOTS OF APPLES, core them and cut them into small bits (no need to remove the skins). It's best to use sweet apple varieties - any of the mac varieties (McIntosh, Jersey Mac, Jonamac), jonagolds, honeycrisp, golden russets (the champagne of apples!), etc. Put apple bits in a big pot with about an inch of water on the bottom (this is assuming you're doing a big batch of applesauce - like, it's worth it to get at least a half bushel or full bushel of apples). Put the heat on high, and cook the apples for ages and ages. Check on them to make sure they don't dry out, but usually they'll just get juicier and juicier as the apples break down. Once they're cooked through and mushy, you can add cinnamon (if you like) and sugar (if needed - sometimes if the apples you use are sweet enough, you don't need any sugar). If the applesauce is too watery, just keep cooking it for hours until it's reduced enough to be the right thickness. Then you've made applesauce.
To can the applesauce: first, you have to sterilize the jars you've bought. So in one pot, you'll put all the metal tops and rings, cover them with lots of water, and boil for ten minutes (this means bring them to a boil, then start the timer for ten minutes). In another pot, you'll put the jars themselves in, cover them with water until there's water at least two inches over the top of the jars, and boil them for ten minutes. They will clink and clank a lot! That is normal. Because I don't have fancy pots and canning racks designed for this, I have to do my jars in shifts. And use tongs to get things out of the hot water. It's best if this can be done right before you're ready to put the applesauce in, because then the jars are hot when you put the hot applesauce in them.
Applesauce + jars: put the applesauce in the jars! Fill to about 1/4 inch below the top of the jar, plop the metal top on, and screw the metal ring on. You can just wipe away any excess applesauce that you spill.
The Actual Canning Part: now you are going to boil the jars again! Except this time they are full of applesauce and have their lids on. Make sure, once again, that there's enough water in the pot - the water should be a couple inches above the tops of the jars. For a pint-size jar, boil for at least 25 minutes; for a quart-sized jar, boil for 30-35 minutes. This varies depending on altitude, as I understand it (the lower your altitude the less boiling time it takes, because there's more air pressure) but these are the times my mom recommended. Frankly it is better to boil the jars a little extra than not, so although some internet recipes say you can boil for only 15 minutes if you're at sea level, I think you might as well go for the 25-35 and be safe. After this time has passed (again, you don't start timing UNTIL the water gets to a solid boil) you remove the jars from the water and set them on a towel on the counter.
IF you have canned successfully, the metal lids will have been sucked downwards. IF you have not canned successfully, the lids will continue to do the up-and-down-popping when you press on them that unopened jars are not supposed to do. When I can, I sometimes end up with 10 jars that sealed perfectly, 1 jar that does the up-and-down-popping-lid when I take it out of the water, and 1 jar that LOOKS like it's sealed perfectly, but after it's cooled off does the up-and-down-popping lid. If any of your jars are still doing the up-and-down-popping-lid, just boil them again for the same amount of time.
Once all the lids are sucked down solidly and all the jars are cooled, congratulations! you've canned applesauce! It can live on the shelf for years.
Fruit preserves are essentially the exact same process, except you put fresh fruit in the jars and cover them usually with a simple syrup (fruit juice + sugar or water + sugar). This will result in jars of fruit that are like canned pears or canned peaches. Or if you like you can make applesauce-like fruit preserves out of any fruit - just chop them up, boil them down, add some spices (ginger or cinnamon or what have you) and put them in jars. There are recipes all over the internet for various kinds of fruit compotes and things - and the nice thing about them, compared to jam, is that they're not as sweet, so you can eat them on more things (as a marinade for meat or tofu, on pancakes, as a sauce for a burger or sandwich). The above jarring method will work for pretty much anything you want to jar. Here are a few processing times (how long to boil various preserves), courtesy again of my mom:
Tomatoes:
Blanch to loosen skins – peel and core. Pack into jars, pressing gently to fill spaces. Add 1 tsp salt. Pints – 35 minutes. Quarts – 45 minutes.
Bread and Butter Pickles:
Qt. 10 minutes, Pt. 5 minutes.
Apples:
Peel, core and cut up. Boil five minutes in thin syrup, with cinnamon sticks if desired. Pack into jars, cover with hot liquid, leaving 0.5” head space. Pt – 15 minutes. Qt. – 20 minutes.
Applesauce:
Prepare, sweeten to taste, pack into jars while hot. Pts – 25 minutes, quarts – 30 minutes.
Apricots:
Wash, drain, cut in half, pack into jars. Cover with hot thin or medium syrup. Pt – 25 minutes. Qt. – 30 minutes.
Peaches:
Thin or medium syrup. Pt – 25 minutes, Qt. – 30 minutes.
Pears: Same as peaches.
Rhubarb: Wash and cut. Add 0.5 cup sugar per quart and let stand 3-4 hours. Bring to boil and pack while hot. Pt – 10 minutes. Qt. – 10 minutes.
no subject
The directions I have and use for canning tomatoes recommend adding some lemon juice (1 Tablespoon per pint) to each jar to achieve sufficient acidity to help make the canning process kill any stray evil spores which happen to be in there. Old-style tomatoes were more acid-y; the ones you're probably going to find for sale today are less so.
Hearing those jar lids go *plink* one by one as they're cooling on the counter after canning is one of the coolest things ever.
*relurks*