Grow with Grace: Tomato Canning — A Romance | Rumson-Fair Haven Retrospect

Relationship Status: It’s Complicated

Preserving what you love doesn’t have to be complicated. But sometimes it is.

The six little seeds I started last March grew into 41 pounds of organic, backyard tomatoes. There are only two things that money can’t buy, and that’s true love and homegrown tomatoes. Enjoying them both sometimes takes a little effort.

Let’s dig in!

It Takes Two

My goal is to preserve two cases of 16-ounce jars of unflavored tomato sauce to get us through the year. While of course I use some when we entertain, most of it is for the personal consumption of a household that includes just myself and my loving husband — hereafter known as LH.

In order to preserve the happiness of our home along with the tomatoes, I have one big sauce day. This way, the kitchen only gets truly trashed once.

As tomatoes ripen throughout the season, I leave them in bins in our downstairs freezer. The day before tomato day, I transfer them into five-gallon food-grade buckets and bring them upstairs to defrost.

Now, LH doesn’t cook. He doesn’t garden. He can, however, lift heavy things. Thus, his participation begins and ends with hauling buckets up the stairs like a big bald milkmaid.

Once the tomatoes are soft, I pour off the liquid at the bottom and begin the processing.

LH heads off to work.

The Food Mill: A Faded Romance

The tomatoes need to be processed before preserving. One method is the old-school, hand-crank food mill. This device attaches to the table or counter and, with a whole lot of effort, separates the skins and seeds, leaving you with a thick tomato juice.

And an extremely sore arm.

And, this year, a bigger mess than usual.

My food mill, which I call the Amazing Squeezo Straino, was a gift from an old boyfriend more than 30 years ago. Don knew a lot about growing and preserving food — not so much about what a girl wants. At a certain age, a young woman doesn’t want to find a big box under the tree. Imagine the surprise on my as-yet unlined and unwrinkled face when I unwrapped this giant present to discover an old-fashioned kitchen appliance.

Au revoir, romance. Hello, all the single ladies.

As I got older, I learned to appreciate the Amazing Squeezo Straino. Many tomatoes have passed through its hopper, and many lovely meals were enjoyed as a result of its service.

Eventually, I met and married LH, a man who clearly understands that good things come in small packages. Captain Don passed away this year. I thought of him as I set up the Amazing Squeezo Straino, ready to put his gift to work.

Then it happened. The seals on the worst Christmas present ever gave out.

The end.

Tomato juice everywhere. Thirty pounds of tomatoes still unprocessed.

I swear I heard the sound of far-off laughter.

The Main Squeeze

Defrosted tomatoes are remarkably easy to peel by hand. A good squeeze separates the flesh from the skin. The flesh goes right into the pot, and I save the skins for dehydrating into tomato powder.

No Squeezo required.

Turn Up the Heat

If you have fresh tomatoes, you can cut a small X in the skin and drop them into a pot of boiling water. As you see the skin begin to loosen, remove the tomatoes and put them into an ice bath. They’re easy to peel.

I find this method to be more work, although if you want to can whole tomatoes, it’s the way to go.

Getting Saucy

It’s time to cook down the tomatoes.

All the tomatoes and juice go into a big pot, and some of the liquid is boiled off. As the sauce thickens, I use an immersion blender to break up the tomatoes. Alternatively, you can use a potato masher.

Immerse Yourself

Some say true love means never having to say you’re sorry.

I think sometimes true love means never saying, “Remember that time you put your hand in the immersion blender?”

Yep.

Despite all the warnings everywhere, yours truly once attempted to clear an immersion blender without unplugging it. You don’t realize how easy it is to accidentally turn that thing on with your finger on the blade until you do it.

And the embarrassment of going to the walk-in clinic and explaining that you stuck your finger in a blender is enough to remind you to unplug it every single time you clear it.

Trust me on this one.

Keeping the Love Alive

When your sauce is thick enough, it’s time to can.

Current safe-canning guidelines call for acidifying tomato sauce before processing. For each 16-ounce pint jar, add ¼ teaspoon of citric acid. I also add a pinch of salt

I prepare clean, hot jars and keep my boiling-water canner hot while the sauce is finishing. I ladle the hot sauce into the jars, leaving ¼ inch of headspace, add the salt and acid, wipe the rims, and apply the lids and rings.

The filled jars go into the canner with the water covering them by at least an inch. Once the water returns to a full rolling boil, the processing time begins.

Here at the Jersey Shore, pint jars of standard tomato sauce are processed for 35 minutes in a boiling-water canner.

My canner holds six jars at a time, so as one batch gets close to finishing, I get the next one ready.

Romance may be spontaneous. Safe canning is not.

Sealing the Deal

One of the most satisfying sounds of sauce day is the pop of a jar sealing.

After processing, I remove the jars and let them cool undisturbed. Once they’ve cooled completely, I check each seal. The center of the lid should be pulled down and should not flex up and down when pressed.

Any jar that doesn’t seal goes into the freezer.

Put a Ring on It — Or Don’t

Once the jars are completely cool and I’ve confirmed the seals, I remove the rings before storing them. That way, if a seal fails during storage, it’s easier to notice.

As we more mature adults can tell you, dating helps keep the romance alive.

Write the canning date on the lid before the jars head to the pantry.

Love — exciting and new

Cleaning the kitchen was quite a job. Buckets and pots are washed and stored, and the canner is ready for whatever I harvest next.

Most importantly, LH no longer feels like he’s living in a crime scene. Speaking of LH, if you happen to see him around, you might want to mention that a food mill attachment for my KitchenAid would make a lovely gift.

Thirty years ago, I thought a food mill was the least romantic gift a man could give a woman. Now I’m practically begging for one. Funny what getting older does to a girl.

And somewhere in the distance, I swear I can hear Captain Don laughing.

Stormy weather

With a nor’easter blowing in, I’m headed out to the garden to pick everything that looks ready and secure anything that might blow around. In the next couple of weeks, I’m hoping to plant more of my lettuce starts, so any cleanup I can do before this weather comes in will certainly help.

I’m off to toil in the soil!

Grace

— Photos/Grace Cangemi Ryan

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** Grace Cangemi Ryan is a longtime area resident and master gardener who graduated from Rumson Country Day School in 1980, is an alum of the famous Barn Theatre in Rumson, a former longtime entertainment industry professional and Red Bank councilwoman from years back. She supports hyperlocal journalism and is a friend to this hyperlocal labor of love, R-FH Retro. Growing with Grace will appear in R-FH Retro weekly, offering gardening tips from Grace — or with Grace. If you need a little Grace in the form of help with your garden, give Grace a call. See her sponsorship below. **