Canning Coffee Beans For Residing Sovereign And Individual Enough
Since transferring to the nation, each year we try to expand our expertise of food storage. Early this morning as the first rays of sun began to lick our vegetable garden, Rich (my hubby) and I discovered a bumper bean crop concealing below the leaves of the bush bean bed. As I carried in the first cucumber of the year, the last of the sugar snap peas, a couple of Walla Walla onions, several artichokes and some dahlias, I considered those beans and felt overwhelmed.
We anticipate business for dinner tonight. What could I finish with those stunning, plentiful beans?
" I have actually not had much success with freezing beans," I told Rich. "I was thinking of canning them," he stated. "Actually?".
At breakfast we poured over canning books. Summer mornings we breakfast on a swing at one end of our covered front porch where we can look across the front lawn into the forest that surrounds our house.
When we moved to the nation in the fall of 2001, we followed a desire to live where we would understand the source of our water and all of our food. Numerous household members and friends were aghast when we offered our 4,000 square foot house that overlooked Puget Sound north of Seattle.
The first two years I just canned jellies and jams. This was something I had done before. As our raised bed garden developed, I added salsa and pickles. These were done with the water bath method. Meanwhile, I perfected what I call soup-stews and my homemade chicken noodle soup. Last fall, Rich, a retired mechanical engineer, volunteered to try pressure-cooking to preserve my soups and stews.
The writer individual will then pound in the nail, hang the image and be done with it. The engineer, on the various other hand, determines thoroughly, asks the writer-person (me) to hold the image in position several times and works on the task many long minutes until the result satisfies.
Thus, I believed that Rich would be most likely to have success with pressure-cooking. To my surprise, the first time he attempted this process, I found him working in his workplace.
"What about the canning?" I asked cautiously. "I am doing it," he told me.
I rushed to the kitchen where the canner was humming along, sizzling away. I flew back to his office and yelled, "No! No! You can not leave this! You have to be there with the canner!".
Eventually, he understood that with pressure-cooking, the cook must stay with the cooker. Last fall we put away a good number of jars of stews and soups and even managed to spend one day concocting a red-wine marinara sauce (which I will save for a later article).
I hear the canner sizzling so I am pretty sure we will have beans in the larder this fall. Despite all the work that enters into planting, weeding, watering and planning a vegetable garden, there is nothing in the world like the feeling of seeing those beautiful glass jars fill your pantry, knowing that no matter what occurs, you will have a lot of food!
Early this morning as the first rays of sun started to lick our vegetable garden, Rich (my hubby) and I discovered a bumper bean crop concealing beneath the leaves of the bush bean bed. As I carried in the first cucumber of the year, the last of the sugar snap peas, a few Walla Walla onions, numerous artichokes and some dahlias, I considered those beans and felt overwhelmed.
I have not had much success with freezing beans," I told Rich. When we moved to the country in the fall of 2001, we followed a desire to live where we would understand the source of our water and all of our food. Last fall, Rich, a retired mechanical engineer, volunteered to try pressure-cooking to preserve my soups and stews.
We anticipate business for dinner tonight. What could I finish with those stunning, plentiful beans?
" I have actually not had much success with freezing beans," I told Rich. "I was thinking of canning them," he stated. "Actually?".
At breakfast we poured over canning books. Summer mornings we breakfast on a swing at one end of our covered front porch where we can look across the front lawn into the forest that surrounds our house.
When we moved to the nation in the fall of 2001, we followed a desire to live where we would understand the source of our water and all of our food. Numerous household members and friends were aghast when we offered our 4,000 square foot house that overlooked Puget Sound north of Seattle.
The first two years I just canned jellies and jams. This was something I had done before. As our raised bed garden developed, I added salsa and pickles. These were done with the water bath method. Meanwhile, I perfected what I call soup-stews and my homemade chicken noodle soup. Last fall, Rich, a retired mechanical engineer, volunteered to try pressure-cooking to preserve my soups and stews.
The writer individual will then pound in the nail, hang the image and be done with it. The engineer, on the various other hand, determines thoroughly, asks the writer-person (me) to hold the image in position several times and works on the task many long minutes until the result satisfies.
Thus, I believed that Rich would be most likely to have success with pressure-cooking. To my surprise, the first time he attempted this process, I found him working in his workplace.
"What about the canning?" I asked cautiously. "I am doing it," he told me.
I rushed to the kitchen where the canner was humming along, sizzling away. I flew back to his office and yelled, "No! No! You can not leave this! You have to be there with the canner!".
Eventually, he understood that with pressure-cooking, the cook must stay with the cooker. Last fall we put away a good number of jars of stews and soups and even managed to spend one day concocting a red-wine marinara sauce (which I will save for a later article).
I hear the canner sizzling so I am pretty sure we will have beans in the larder this fall. Despite all the work that enters into planting, weeding, watering and planning a vegetable garden, there is nothing in the world like the feeling of seeing those beautiful glass jars fill your pantry, knowing that no matter what occurs, you will have a lot of food!
Early this morning as the first rays of sun started to lick our vegetable garden, Rich (my hubby) and I discovered a bumper bean crop concealing beneath the leaves of the bush bean bed. As I carried in the first cucumber of the year, the last of the sugar snap peas, a few Walla Walla onions, numerous artichokes and some dahlias, I considered those beans and felt overwhelmed.
I have not had much success with freezing beans," I told Rich. When we moved to the country in the fall of 2001, we followed a desire to live where we would understand the source of our water and all of our food. Last fall, Rich, a retired mechanical engineer, volunteered to try pressure-cooking to preserve my soups and stews.
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