Prunus domesticus

The Italian Prune. Of course, I know prunes don't grow on trees, plums do, but this tree -- our tree -- is an Italian Prune tree. I've seen it called the Italian Prune Plum, but that's even worse somehow, so picky-pants like me just have to learn to call these plums "prunes" and get on with life. Last year our tree didn't give us one fruit, but this year I pulled 17 lbs. of prunes off that baby. As a side note, it's not easy to maneuver the ladder around the prune tree while avoiding hitting the chickens and also not getting a stick in the eye. I am happy to report all the chickens and both my corneas are just fine.

Ever since I knew our prune harvest would be good, I have been waiting to can some plum sauce. Plum sauce is not called prune sauce no matter which variety of fruit you use. I don't know who makes these consarn rules.

Added to my excitement was the fact that our peppers were going crazy in the Hawthouse, and the recipe calls for peppers. It also calls for onions, and I could have used our own, but I needed to use up some from the pantry first. I have never had any luck with peppers before, so given the crummy outdoor season, these jalapenos have been fun to grow.

8 lbs. of the prunes went into the sauce for 20 half-pints. It didn't come out quite as thick as I thought it would, but it is very tasty, and it's going to be great on future pork roasts or chicken. Or anything, really. The other 9 lbs. were divvied up for freezing.

Three of those 9 lbs. didn't make it to the freezer. Instead they became Wonderful Plum Crunch.

Yes I Can, Can, Can

It has not been the best year in the garden, but we have tried to do the most with the least. There were more peaches this year than last, and we knew from experience to pick them just slightly under-ripe for canning.

Zuzu knew that hanging around the bucket would increase the chances of maybe getting a peach. My first year of canning last year made me a smarter canner this year, and I learned it's OK to do things in stages to avoid the insidious canner burnout. The peaches were blanched, peeled, sliced, and left to soak in the no-brown-em overnight. Believe me, that's a lot of work in itself. Zuzu watched the whole thing and can vouch for me.

Soaking peaches, fresh dill, prepared beets, and sliced cucumbers were all ready to take their turns in the canner the next day.

In succession, spicy dill pickle chips, dill pickle spears, pickled beets, and peaches.

It's a good thing I plant a short-season variety of corn because a short season is exactly what we got. It was evident that the corn was as good as it was going to get, so we pulled it all, and I prepared it for pressure canning. If I say next year that I am going to can corn, you'll know I'm very, very sick and need help. Blanching corn and stripping it from the cob is a special kind of kitchen torture. The only reason I subjected myself to it is because I was not, after all the work of growing the starts in the greenhouse and putting over 100 of them in the garden, going to just throw it all to the chickens. (although it is nice to know that nothing will ever go to waste.)

I combined it with some of our carrots and the bush beans to make some nice mixed veggie jars. I think canning must be like childbirth. Once you see the pretty jars all lined up, you forget the pain of it all. But I think I'm done having corn.