Canning Peaches: A DIY Journey of a Lifetime

Dear Readers,

Recently, I became a proud member of Pinterest (please see pinterest.com if you don't know what I'm talking about) and have had the chance to read several wonderful step by step, DIY, beautifully done instructional blogs for the crafty and talented. In an effort to meet and/or exceed the instructional blog expectations, I'm summoning the power of my mormon-family blood and am going to show you how to can peaches, Badger-Girl style.

Having not been to church in a few years, I was having a hard time finding my inner-homemaker, so I recruited the help of my younger awesome (and church going) sister, Kate. And so our journey to home canned peaches began in Kate's mini-van, with our ever faithful helpers, Lucas, Lucy, and Annie.



Kate and I are big fans of Williamson's Orchards in the Sunny Slope area of Marsing. As we were nearing the beautiful Snake River Valley, Lucas informed me that he wasn't feeling so well and then puked all over the floor of the van. Lucy was kind of grossed out, but not enough to turn off her DVD. And Annie could care less, all she wanted was a Diet Coke and a sucker. But after some clean up and a stop at a super creepy gas station, we finally made it to the orchards. I had a brief minute of calm, long enough to take this picture:



We bought our boxes of peaches in record time to keep the children from hurting themselves or others at the family friendly farm stand. On the drive back, Lucas asked Lucy if they could watch "Coraline". Lucy's reply was direct and to the point: "No. I'm never watching "Coraline" again because you puked on it like a jack-ass."

When we finally made it back to Boise, we decided the peaches needed to ripen before we canned them. Also, we smelled like vomit and farm stand and felt like a mini-van full of jack-asses. So fast forward two days, and we've finally reached canning day!

So here's how you do it:

Step One: Buy one hell of a lot of peaches. We bought two boxes. That's roughly equivalent to 18,000 peaches.



Step Two: Hire a crazy one year old to help take peaches out of the box and hide throughout the house. That way, you won't get bored with the rest of the steps. Remind said baby that the fire place is the perfect place to hide peaches.



Step Three: Buy and sanitize a whole bunch of jars. If you don't want to buy them, clear out your fridge of all the unused condiments (ie mayonnaise, old moldy jam, and the half a bottle of kalamata olives you had to pretend to like at a dinner party you had) and wash out those bottles as good as you can. We just bought the jars.



Step Four: Blanch the peaches by putting them in a pot of boiling water for 30 seconds, and then putting them in an ice bath. Try to burn yourself while doing this to keep your senses sharp and on high alert. Swear as needed.



Step Five: Spend the next several hours of your life skinning and slicing peaches and putting them in their jars. Try your hardest to get peach juice all over your counters and floors so that you have a satisfying coating of fruit adhesive to clean up when you're done.



Step Six: Make a sugar syrup on the stove. Pour over peaches in the jars and then put the lids on tight. Do not take a picture of this step because nobody wants to see this vital part of the process.

Step Seven: Buy a lot of canning equipment. Luckily, Kate already did this step so I didn't have to pay for it.

Step Eight: Put the jars filled with peaches and syrup in the jar holder thing. Don't let the jars touch each other (they need to be a Bible's width apart like at a church dance). Immerse in big pot of boiling water. At this point, you want to make sure your kitchen is at a nice humid 109 degrees.



Step Nine: Let the jars boil for a really long time. Try to make as many jars of peaches as possible in a day, but only boil six jars at a time to really draw out the process. Also, it's best for a screaming baby to enter the kitchen when it's time to remove the jars, and try to entice them into touching one of the bottles that just came out of the boiling pot of water. That way every jar you pull out is a reminder of the way you disfigured a child for life.



Step Ten: Wait. And wait. And wait some more. Eventually the lid should make a little *pop* noise, signaling your success as a canner. All of ours popped and with each sweet little noise an angel smiled.



Step Eleven: Find a place in your two bedroom apartment to store 24 jars of peaches. And you're done! Now that you've put all that work, sweat, puke, and swearing into a couple dozen jars of fruit, try to avoid ever opening one bottle for fear of realizing all the work you put into it is only worth about 3 minutes of eating enjoyment.

Woila! DIY blog, h.-style! Not only did the peaches take forever, but this blog did to. I'm never teaching you, my sweet and devoted readers, to make anything ever again.

Sincerely,
h.