Folklife Friday: Canning

There are those among us who think I'm a little touched in the head because I love to can food. I don't know where this comes from; perhaps a primordial instinct somewhere in that part of the brain we don't understand to store food for the winter? Usually, I don't do things the hard way if there is an easier option. But I just love canning.

It's much easier now than when we were children. Mama felt herself a failure if she didn't have a room full of stored food. She canned all the fruits and vegetables until she finally got a huge chest freezer. We thought we had died and gone to heaven when we could just put that corn in bags instead of canning it over a hot stove. It also meant we didn't have to wash canning jars that were brought up from the storm house, full of spider webs and dead bugs and unknown objects. Sometimes, a lid would have rusted on the jar, which had to be removed and the rust scrubbed off so the jar was suitable for use. My lil' ole sister and I hated it when we had to scrub that rust off!

After Daddy retired, he and Mama would sometimes can things outside in a wash tub using the water bath process. A fire was built under the water-filled tub and the water was kept at boiling temperatures for about three hours. Daddy loved to keep the fire going. Mama liked it because it didn't heat up the house, and over thirty quarts could be canned at once, instead of seven in the pressure cooker.

My freezer gets filled with corn, sweet potatoes, and some tomatoes. The beans and peas are canned, simply because we prefer the way the canned ones taste. I love canning vegetable soup when I can get all the ingredients together at the same time. Some things I have to can--hot slaw, pickled okra, jams and jellies. I always can extra to give away at Christmas.

My pressure cooker was ordered from Sears about 1975, and I still have all the original parts (except for a handle on the lid) and even the instruction book. Every year at canning time, I'm amazed when I find it all.

This leads me to a story I heard about a sweet lady from over on Horse Creek who got herself a new-fangled pressure cooker. She was so proud of it, and used it for everything she could think of. One cold hog-killing day, a neighbor, who knew how she loved souse (head cheese), brought by a hog's head for her. She whipped that pressure cooker out and sealed that hog's head up in it to cook.

Something went terribly wrong. After the proper cooking time, she couldn't remove the top from the cooker. It might have been that all that hog fat clogged something up, or the sealing ring may have just melted. She was outraged, and promptly returned the pressure cooker to Mr. Sears and Mr. Roebuck, hog's head and all.

I have often wondered about the poor worker whose job it was to handle returns. Was she having a good day up until the time she opened that package? Was she able to keep her breakfast when she opened the lid to see a week-old hog's head decaying? Did she consider a career change? The Horse Creek lady got a new pressure cooker, but we never heard the rest of the story.

Amish in Stantonville, Tennessee

Last week, my sis and her hub went with us to the Amish community near Stantonville, Tennessee. It was a beautiful day, and we love driving to new places and finding new treasures. We enjoy these mini-trips we take together, where we giggle a lot and get caught up on everything. Also, the squirrels ate all our tomatoes, so we needed to find some to buy. You know the food you are buying is fresh when they bring it from the field while you are standing there waiting for it. Here is part of what we brought home, and it was all delicious. Stantonville is located in McNairy County, Tennessee, northwest of Shiloh National Military Park.

Holy Smoke Pie

I think it was in the late seventies that I first had Holy Smoke Pie. It was at a party at Debra Morris Harville's house. After we ate, Debra had to give the recipe to everyone there. I came home and made it for my family, and it has been a favorite since then. I always make it at holiday dinners, because I believe tradition is important. It has become a favorite of our granddaughters. I've heard it called Chocolate Delight, Four-Layer Chocolate Dessert, and other odd things. We call it Holy Smoke. Here is how I make it: Chop us a cup of pecans; set aside. Add a stick of softened butter (NOT margarine) to one cup of self-rising flour. Cut the butter into the flour. Add the chopped pecans, and work it all together. Save two tablespoons of the pecans to sprinkle on top. Pour into a 9" x 12" pan that has been sprayed with cooking oil. Spread it over the bottom of the pan. It helps to use your hands (or hand, if you have t

Cedar Trees in Cemeteries

If you ever wander in old cemeteries, and I know many of you do, you are bound to see some cedar trees. The tradition goes back to the early days of the United States and even earlier in Europe. Cedar trees were not always used, but some type of evergreen trees were planted because they were a symbol of everlasting life. Some Cherokees believed that cedars contained powerful spirits, including the spirits of the departed buried beneath them. Perhaps because they are known as burial trees, there are many superstitions that surround cedars. My grandmother told us in no uncertain terms that if we planted a cedar tree, we would die when it was large enough to shade our graves. Some others are: Never transplant a cedar tree; it will bring bad luck. If you transplant a cedar and it dies, you will die shortly. Planting a cedar tree in your yard welcomes poverty. Some say Christ was crucified on a cedar tree, and will bring bad luck if you burn it. If a cedar tree com

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