I Think I Can, I Think I Can…No, I Think I “Jar”

Yes, the “Little Engine That Could” is a current favorite in our household, especially with little Gracey who surely feels the impending sadness of the good little boys and girls on the other side of the mountain if the train filled with toys and treats doesn't arrive by morning. A very nice story for teaching the importance of helping others and of the power of positive thinking. I'm not sure I can appreciate the materialistic message which says the boys and girls cannot be happy without new toys and treats, but it is what it is.

As a linguist, it is my job to question why we use words in the way we use them. You know, stuff like, “If beautiful means full of beauty, why doesn't awful mean full of awe?” and “Why do motors run, but they can't walk?” and “Is the name for the social media rave Twitter somehow related to the word coined by Bambi's friend Owl – Twitterpated?

A recent area of confusion for me is the term we used for the sealing food items for storage in glass jars – canning. My definition of "can" is usually something made out of metal, not glass. Well I suppose there is the porcelain variety used at the other end of food processing, but I hardly doubt that this is what is in mind in the “canning” of meats and veggies. Am I right? If so, will you join me in a crusade for changing this process' name from canning to jarring?

My family and I have been jarring a lot lately. Having been out in the remote areas for our longest stretch ever, 13 weeks, and having had an extra mouth to feed with our summer intern, we went through nearly all of our previously jarred meats, sauces and salsas. And so, after getting settled in our Addis Ababa home, we hit the local markets, this time hauling back 27 lbs of tomatoes, 4.5 lbs onions, ½ lb of whole garlic, a generous clump of cilantro, 3 lbs of carrots, and the heavy hitter to our budget – 22 lbs of freshly slaughtered beef. This time Micah and Grace went with me to get the beef and Micah's bird's-eye view allowed him to supervise the 20-minute process of the shop owners cutting and grinding it just how we had requested.

Meanwhile Andrea and Lumi were back at home dicing up the mountain of tomatoes for spaghetti sauce and salsa. Lumi did her part by sleeping silently on mommy's back.

Grace, always happy to play with water, offered a helping hand in washing the jars, lids and collars,

 …while Micah ran the blender for the tomatoes that would be used for sauce.

Eventually, everything finds its way to the stovetop where the meat is browned, the sauce is simmered and onions and garlic are roasted for extra flavorful salsa.

The grand finale includes a batch of about 20 cans taking a hot bath in the massive "jarring" pressure cooker, where they slow cook for up to 90 minutes.

The jars then cool on the counter over night.

In the morning, we check all of the seals before packing them into their transport boxes in which they make the bumpy trip down-country.

It's a full day's work, but it can be fun as well, especially with lots of little hands helping. But more than that, one full day of jarring makes for 50-some meals greatly enhanced by either slow-cooked tender meat chunks, homemade pasta sauces or salsa made just how we like it. In our down-country house where we lack the preservation power of refrigeration, these jars made up not only the foundation of our pantry, but of our menu as well.