Having nibbled my own lips into two swollen, confluent canker sores, while over-caffeinating to the extreme of bilateral pseudo-DVT, Diet Coke-claudication of my calves—both symptoms pathognomonic for my stress response to Boards season—I am now finished being standardly tested in medical school. This last exam was my favorite because it thrust me into a perfect scene from Monsters Inc, where the eager monsters stand like cattle in a hallway of doors, waiting for the buzzer to begin. Clinical Skills boards.
Rarely have I ever made a dish that when photographed looks near identical to the magazine photography. This is it. Thrilled, can I just say— Thrilled— to have found a way to cook rutabaga, beets and carrots that has me and KP licking our plates clean.
Roasted Root Vegetables with Tamari
Adapted from Food and Wine
10 small white Japanese turnips, halved lengthwise
3 medium parsnips, quartered lengthwise
1 rutabaga, halved and cut into long sections
6 medium carrots, preferably mixed colors, halved lengthwise
10 small golden beets, scrubbed and quartered lengthwise (I used red beets)
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon finely chopped thyme
1 tablespoon finely chopped sage
1 tablespoon finely chopped rosemary
Kosher salt
Pepper
2 1/2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
2 tablespoons tamari
Preheat the oven to 425°. In a large saucepan of salted boiling water, blanch the turnips and rutabaga until barely tender, about 1 minute. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the turnips to a baking sheet to cool slightly. Add the parsnips and carrots to the saucepan and bring to a boil, then simmer until barely tender, about 2 minutes; transfer the carrots and parsnips to the baking sheet. Add the beets to the saucepan and simmer until just tender, about 5 minutes; transfer to the baking sheet and let cool slightly.
In a large bowl, toss the vegetables with the olive oil, thyme, sage and rosemary and season with salt and pepper. Spread the vegetables in an even layer on 2 large rimmed baking sheets. Roast for 20 to 25 minutes, until browned in spots. Transfer the vegetables to a platter. Drizzle with the vinegar and tamari, season with salt and pepper and toss to coat. Serve.
Beautiful! If this dish was an outfit, I would wear it.
Well, we finally had a graveyard smash at Fuchsia and Lime. Izzy really got into character as Beast when a long haired dachshund showed up unannounced as a guest’s costume accessory. KP, dashing in gold lamé, was the perfect Lumiere to welcome the masses…”Be our Guest, be our guest…”
The winners of our costume contest were a group dressed as Pussy Riot, the feminist Russian punk rock group. Then we also had a stick figure (black body suit with glow sticks tacked on) win runner up. Wish we had taken proper photographs, but I am a notoriously remiss photographer at my own parties. We served plates full of fresh pumpkin delicacies—bread, muffins with ginger and chocolate, and toasted seeds. KP even brewed an Octoberfest lager with a pumpkin aroma.
Pumpkin Bread
Because this time of year, I’m all about that pumpkin.
15 oz pumpkin puree**
4 eggs
1 cup olive oil
2/3 cup water
3 cups white sugar
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 TB ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two loaf pans.
In a large bowl, mix together pumpkin puree, eggs, oil, water and sugar until well blended. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger. Stir the dry ingredients into the pumpkin mixture until just blended. Pour into the prepared pans.
Bake for about 55-60 minutes in the preheated oven. Done when a fork or toothpick inserted comes out clean.
This recipe makes pretty good muffins too, just bake for 25-30 minutes instead of 50 at 250 degrees. I love a holiday that encourages putting eyeballs and legs with sneakers onto baked goods.
**What? You can take a whole pumpkin and turn it into puree for baking and soup??? Why yes.
Cut the pumpkin in half and discard the stem section and stringy pulp. …
In a shallow baking dish, place the two halves face down and cover with foil.
Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F oven for about 1½ hours for a medium-sized sugar pumpkin, or until tender. Then peel off the skin and puree the remainder pumpkin flesh. Yum!!! I freeze a bag or two, because the pureed fresh pumpkin is really only good for about three days in the fridge.
Save the seeds and put them on a cookie sheet in a single layer, drizzle with olive oil and salt (or Cajun spices) and bake for 10-15 minutes until they are toasted as crispy as you like. Also, don’t be tempted to “shuck” the seeds– they are healthier with their husk. More zinc, I hear.
Thanks to all who came over to dance and spook around last night: special shout outs to Mike Wizowski, Ditka, the Peacock, Cowboy, Avatar, Operation Girl, Luigi, the cast from Game of Thrones, Piccachu (even though I thought you were a double-headed banana at first), Will the sexy blonde braided librarian, Luke Skywalker, Anakin and Princess Leia, Olaf the snowman, the electrical socket and her handsome double-pronged plug, Firefighter, Holy Cow, Zebra, the Russian doll, Pinky and the Brain, Zombie Josh and his pirate, the Social Butterflies, and Daft Pumpkin.
The Roots are not only one of my favorite bands, they are the class of my favorite vegetables. Roots and Tubers (which would be the name of my chickens’ band if only I would let them into a recording studio) are the very last thing the Earth yields before turning to stone for a few brief months. I think we may be upon the edge of deep cementing here in Minnesota. The chickens are pecking frantically at the soil like these guys in the Lumberjack playoffs. Full-neck whelps at the ground. If I had potatoes in my garden, they would have found them by now and added them to their hind quarters. Gratefully, I get my potatoes from Earth Dance Farm, and at one point, I had so many that I began to throw them willy-nilly onto anything I was making in the kitchen. Like this focaccia. Great result, as it turns out.
Shape the dough as directed in the tartine country bread recipe. Let rest on a work surface for 30 minutes. Then cut the potatoes into thin, translucent slices. Place in a colander and toss with salt. Let stand for 20 or so minutes, and the potatoes will leech out copious amounts of water. Sponge it up, let it drip through the colander, and then toss the potato slices with pepper, olive oil, and thyme.
Preheat the oven to 500. Brush a rimmed baking sheet with oil. Transfer the dough to the pan and stretch into a rectangular shape—do not rip the dough. If it resists stretching, just wait. It will relax in a few minutes, and then you can try again.
Distribute the potatoes over the surface of the dough. Bake for 15 minutes, then rotate the pan so it can bake evenly. Continue until the potatoes are golden brown, 20-25 minutes total. Remove from the oven and top with shaved cheese. Cut and serve warm. Yum. I served this bread for a Calvary Episcopal Potluck, and it disappeared faster than summer in Minnesota.
I’m totally in over my head with this new baking group. Last time I made chimney cake. Now this. I spent four hours of my Saturday spackling this cake into the unimpressive mound you see here in this photograph. No shortcuts, every last moment of this project was painstaking–[See: straining apricot chunks out of boiled apricot glaze with a metal sieve for half hour.] It tastes amazing, but I have seen ant hills with better trim. I think my toddler-made sand castles looked better than this at Manzanita Beach on the Oregon Coast. Master Chef Rachel, when did you bake this fine art cake? It was during my Toddler Era.
Obviously inspired by the famous Vienna Sachertorte
Servings: 12-16
Cake Ingredients
4½ oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened at room temperature
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
6 large eggs, separated, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
pinch fine grain salt
Directions:
Preheat oven to moderately hot 375˚F with a rack in the center of the oven. Butter and flower the sides of a 9-inch (23 cm) springform pan, then line the bottom with a circle of parchment paper.
Place the bittersweet chocolate in the microwave until just melted. Set aside to cool completely, stirring often.
Place the butter in a large mixing bowl and beat with the paddle attachment of a stand mixer or electric mixer on medium speed until very light and creamy. Add the confectioners’ sugar on low speed, then increase to medium speed and beat again until light and creamy.
Beat in the egg yolks, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
Add the cooled chocolate and vanilla and beat until well-mixed and very light and creamy, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
In a scrupulously clean bowl using the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites with about one tablespoon of the granulated sugar on high speed until foamy. Gradually add in the rest of the granulated sugar and continue beating the whites until they form soft, shiny peaks -they should hold their shape but flop over on themselves.
Vigorously stir about 1/3 of the whipped egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then gently fold the remaining egg whites into the chocolate mixture with a spatula until just a few wisps of egg white remain. Do not deflate the egg whites! Marvel at them, but do not deflate.
Stir together the flour and salt and sift half of it over the chocolate mixture. Fold in with a spatula until almost incorporated. Sift over the remaining flour and fold to combine completely.
Spread the batter evenly in the prepared springform pan.
Bake in the preheated moderately hot 375˚F oven for 35-45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
The cake will crack and dome in the middle as it bakes but will flatten out as it cools. (Except for mine remained domed, so I had to cut off the dome, like making a flat top haircut on a bagel.
Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then run a knife around the edge to loosen it from the pan and remove the sides. Carefully invert the cake onto a rack and remove the bottom of the pan and parchment paper, then turn the cake right-side up onto a rack and allow to cool completely.
Assembly: Turn the cake upside-down so that the perfectly flat bottom of the cake is now the top. Cut the cake horizontally into 2 even layers, so that it looks like you’ve made the world’s largest chocolate English muffin.
Place 1 cake layer on the 8½-inch cardboard cake round (polka dots optional) and spread it generously with about half of the apricot glaze. Allow it to soak in.
Place the second cake layer on top and spread the top and sides with the remaining apricot glaze. Work quickly before the glaze has a chance to set and use a metal offset spatula to smooth the top. Place the cake on a rack set over a plate or baking sheet lined with waxed paper and allow the apricot glaze to set.
Make the chocolate glaze (it must be used immediately, while still hot) and pour it over the top of the cake, first around the edge and then in the middle. Let me emphasize that it must be pourable. I think my chocolate was too thick, because it immediately turned to plaster of Paris when it hit the cake. Instant fudge. Tastes AMAZING, looks a little bit like a drunk adobe job.
Spread the excess glaze over any bare spots using a metal offset spatula. Before the glaze has a chance to set, move the cake to a serving platter
With the writing chocolate, pipe the word “Sacher” in the middle of the cake and add any decorative flourishes you wish. Try not to feel bad when the frosting bag explodes and destroys the beauty of your word mid-A. Then, do not cry as you use a fork to spell the rest of the word. Do NOT, under any circumstances, Google images of Sachertortes professionally done. Just chill the cake until the glaze is completely set, at least 1 hour. And serve. When your guests ask what you were trying to spell on top, lie. Say perhaps, I wasn’t spelling anything. I was just doodling. Then grin and giggle like you don’t care.
To serve: Let the cake come to room temperature for about 1 hour before serving. Whip the cream to soft peaks (this is best done in a cold bowl with cold beaters). If desired, sweeten it with icing sugar to taste.
Cut the Sachertorte into wedges with a large sharp knife dipped in hot water and wipe off the blade between cuts. Serve each wedge of cake with a large dollop of whipped cream.
Apricot Glaze
Servings: 1 quantity (about 1 cup)
Ingredients
1¼ cup apricot jam or preserves
2 tablespoons rum (or other liquor) or water
Directions:
Boil the jam and rum/water in a small saucepan over medium heat.
Cook, stirring often, until the mixture thickens and drips slowly from the spoon, about 2-3 minutes.
Strain through a wire mesh sieve, pressing firmly on the solids. You should have about 1 cup of glaze. Use warm.
Chocolate Glaze
Servings: 1 quantity
Ingredients
1 cup granulated sugar
½ cup water
4 oz good quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped
Directions:
Place the sugar and water in a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.
Attach a candy thermometer and cook, stirring, until the mixture reaches 234˚F about 5 minutes.
Remove the saucepan from the heat and whisk in the chocolate. It might thicken up quite a bit. If it does, return it to low heat and add a few drops of water if necessary to thin it out to a runny, pourable consistency. The glaze should be smooth and shiny.
Off the heat, stir the glaze for 30-60 seconds to cool it slightly, then immediately use it to glaze the cake.
Any excess glaze can be stored in a container in the fridge and added to a mug of hot milk to make hot chocolate.
Writing Chocolate
Servings: 1 quantity
Ingredients
¼ cup chopped good quality chocolate
½ -1 teaspoons vegetable oil
Directions:
Heat the chocolate until just melted, then stir in enough vegetable oil to get a pipeable consistency. If necessary, let the chocolate mixture cool slightly to thicken so that it is not too runny.
Place the chocolate in a disposable piping bag or small Ziplock bag and snip off the tip to make a small hole.
Good luck, ye daring bakers. I think the key is to really make sure that the chocolate glaze is liquidy and fast-setting. Even if every last step of this procedure is perfect, the exterior is how it will be judged (since only twelve people get to enjoy the cake)–kind of like surgery. If the incision suture job is a botch, who cares how elegant the stitches on the heart?
Worst food photography ever on this stew, the word itself lending a sort of downturned mouth onomatopoeia effect, stew…ew. Rather than lead off with an unappetizing photograph of my tasty, hearty autumn gruel, I’ve chosen to provide a charming foreshadowing of Hallow’s Eve at our house, with my chunky little Beast (Beauty in her yellow dress is behind the camera—more hilarious portraits to come.) I love how her double, triple, and quadruple chins smother the smart little bow tie. And yes, that is my suitcase, still unpacked from last week’s travels, in the background. Priorities people–getting my bulldog a Lycra tuxedo is so obviously more urgent.
Shrimp and Sausage Stew
Adapted from Food and Wine
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 pound andouille sausage, cut into 1-inch rounds
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 large celery rib, finely chopped
1/2 green bell pepper, chopped
8 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
3 tomatoes, chopped (2 cups)
1 cup chicken stock or low-sodium broth
1 cup bottled clam juice (this is the key!)
One 10-ounce bag fresh or frozen baby lima beans, thawed if frozen
1/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 pounds large shell-on shrimp
In a large, deep skillet, heat the oil. Add the sausage and cook over moderately high heat, stirring, until lightly browned, 5 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a plate.
Add the onion, celery and green pepper to the skillet and cook over moderate heat, stirring frequently, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cayenne and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes and cook, stirring, until their liquid is nearly evaporated, about 5 minutes. Add the stock and clam juice and bring to a boil. Scatter the sausage, lima beans and half of the parsley on top. Add the shrimp, cover tightly and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes, until the shrimp are pink and cooked through. Let the stew rest for 5 minutes, then sprinkle with the remaining parsley and serve.
Serve with steamed rice and hot sauce.
See, I told you it was not a comely view, this stew.
Fall colors during an Indian Summer—the chickens are in heaven, frolicking in autumn leaves and striking distinguished profiles for the paparazzi.
To a bird, the bilge under the leaves must taste as good as this:
Pecan Shortbread with Chocolate Drizzle
Adapted from Food and Wine
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup pecan flour or 1/2 cup whole pecans, finely ground
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
Large pinch of salt
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 large egg yolk
8 pecan halves
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped and melted
Preheat the oven to 350°. Butter a large rimmed baking sheet. In a medium bowl, stir the all-purpose and pecan flours with the sugar, cinnamon and salt. Using a pastry cutter or your fingers, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles fine cornmeal. Add the egg yolk and blend it in with a fork. Lightly knead the shortbread dough until it is smooth.
Transfer the shortbread dough to the prepared baking sheet and flatten it into a 6-inch round. Refrigerate the dough until it is well chilled, about 20 minutes.
Using the blunt side of a knife, score the dough into 8 wedges. Lightly press a pecan into the wide end of each wedge. Bake for about 35 minutes, until the shortbread is browned around the edge. While the shortbread is still warm, cut it into wedges with a serrated knife. Let the shortbread cool to room temperature, then drizzle with the chocolate and serve.
My previous attempt at shortbread was a maddening experiment because the dough just would not come together. It crumbled so badly that I attributed the baking process to surgical morcellation. Ew. But this was an entirely different affair, perhaps because of the summer weather making the butter near liquid to work with, perhaps it was using Betty White’s eggs rather than the anonymous yolks of some angry caged fowl, who knows? It was heaven, and held heaven’s note through to last bite of every slice. After the smallish round had been consumed, I promptly made another.
Yum. In a mood for seafood when staring at the sea scape of San Diego! The sounds of seagulls and train bells along the bay are West Coast anthems I haven’t heard in ages. All the same, sun and sea breeze long lost friends found again. What a glorious Saturday in the Gaslamp District.
I find it very telling that my first thought upon the sight of this flower was–ha! A tropical deer. I now bear a Minnesota slant.
Spaghettini with Shrimp, Tomatoes, and Chile Crumbs
Adapted from Food and Wine
2 large plum tomatoes (about 1 1/4 pounds), cored and scored on the bottoms with an X
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground pepper
1 cup coarse, dried sourdough bread crumbs (about 2 ounces)
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
Crushed red pepper
12 ounces spaghettini
1 pound medium shrimp, shelled and deveined
2 tablespoons finely shredded basil
1/2 pound heirloom cherry tomatoes, halved
Preheat the oven to 450°. Put the plum tomatoes in a small baking dish and drizzle with the vinegar and 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Roast for about 20 minutes, just until the skins loosen and the tomatoes are barely softened. Let cool slightly, then peel the tomatoes. Using the large holes on a box grater, grate the tomatoes back into the baking dish and stir. Season with salt and pepper.
Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large skillet. Add the bread crumbs and cook over moderately low heat, stirring, until golden and crisp, about 5 minutes. Stir in the lemon zest and a pinch of crushed red pepper and season with salt. Transfer the crumbs to a bowl and wipe out the skillet.
In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the pasta until barely al dente. Drain the pasta, reserving 1/2 cup of the cooking water. Return the pasta to the pot and stir in 2 tablespoons of the olive oil.
In the large skillet, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons of oil until shimmering. Season the shrimp with salt and a pinch of crushed red pepper and cook over high heat, tossing once or twice, until barely cooked, about 1 1/2 minutes. Add the basil and pasta along with the reserved pasta cooking water and cook, tossing, until the shrimp are white throughout and the pasta is coated in a light sauce, about 1 minute. Transfer the pasta to bowls and scatter the cherry tomatoes all around. Top with the tomato sauce and bread crumbs. Serve right away.
I can identify with this split-face sculpture as I tool around San Diego with one foot in vacation, the other in the stress of school with an exam coming on Tuesday amid academic conference responsibilities. One half black and white and gray, the other half color wild.
In the Emergency Department, one of the primary goals is to “move people.” One of my consultants told me that a common question in an EM residency interview is to be asked, “how are you at moving people?” An inquiry into how efficient you are with patient care, with, I believe, more of an emphasis on quantity and velocity than the quality of care or management of emotions involved. I am decidedly not a people mover. Actually, I rather enjoy collecting people. I like to sign up for them when they come into my ED ward, get their work up started after physical exam, go back for a nice conversation, maybe linger over them while stitching something that has torn, or while packing a wound that I have numbed and cleaned out. I like to bring them meals, relieve their pain and calm their nausea, entertain with jokes, throw another warm blanket around their shoulders, and then when the doctor in charge asks me “Where are we with your patients?” I may nearly say that we are in my living room having a grand time before I remember that we are in the hospital, and that I have not eaten or sat down in ten hours. He will want me to move them along, admit or discharge, and each time I say farewell to this new person in my life I will always think, Too bad, I was just getting to know them. #sogladIchosepsychiatry.
It is calming to come home and mix yeast and flour and to know that you can’t hurry bread.
Whole Wheat Tartine Bread
Adapted from the Tartine Bread Book
Sourdough 200 g
Water 800 g
Wheat flour 700 g
Regular flour 300 g
Salt 20 g
Prepare the dough using the method of Tartine Country Bread, except let the dough rest for 60 minutes in the first rise, because it needs to absorb more water.
This is the spongiest and sweetest whole wheat bread I’ve ever made and eaten. Whole wheat flour absorbs more water than white flour—so while it is recommended that you let it rest for at least 60 minutes, it is also fine to let it rest overnight. There is no hurry with bread, especially with wheat Tartine. And as for moving people, for now I’m content to remain moved by people.
When this thick soup boils it reminds me of the paint pots at Yellowstone National Park, all glug and bloop. You know, if I had this to do again, I would leave the carrots completely out of it. Carrots and pumpkins have only their color in common—I don’t think they are really complimentary mates in the same soup bowl.
1 large can pumpkin purée (or 2 regular 14-15-oz. cans OR use a small baking pumpkin that you have baked, scooped out, and pureed—I did thanks to my CSA!)
3 Cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
Salt and pepper to taste
¼ tsp. sugar
¼ tsp. thyme
Melt the butter in a stock pot over medium-high heat. Add the onion, carrots and celery and cook until soft, stirring frequently-10-15 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour, stirring well until there are no little flour lumps. Add the rest of the ingredients and simmer for 30 minutes. Purée in a blender or food processor if desired. Serve with a dollop of sour cream.
Because I Googled “lycopene toxicity,” I decided that this year I would start canning tomatoes. Lycopenemia at its worst gets you orange skin and a fatty liver (accomplished by drinking like two liters of tomato juice a day for ten years). When I stared down what had to be several gallons of cherry tomatoes brought in from the yard, the chance of lycopenemia remote, I was still like “Ew.” I need a break from tomatoes. Thank God there is canning.
I wanted to learn how to can without using a pressure cooker. After researching web pages with titles like “Pioneering Today,” I found:
Wash tomatoes and dip in boiling water for 30 to 60 seconds or until skins split. Then dip in cold water slip off skins, and remove cores. Trim off any bruised or discolored portions and quarter. This I accomplished with the INTENSE moral support of Izzy.
Heat one-sixth of the quarters quickly in a large pot, crushing them with a wooden mallet or spoon as they are added to the pot. This will exude juice. Continue heating the tomatoes, stirring to prevent burning. Once the tomatoes are boiling, gradually add remaining quartered tomatoes, stirring constantly. These remaining tomatoes do not need to be crushed. They will soften with heating and stirring. Continue until all tomatoes are added.
Then boil gently 5 minutes. Add bottled lemon juice or citric acid to jars. Add 1 teaspoon of salt per quart to the jars, if desired. Fill jars immediately with hot tomatoes, leaving ½-inch headspace. Adjust lids and process.
To ensure safe acidity in whole, crushed, or juiced tomatoes, add two tablespoons of bottled lemon juice or 1/2 teaspoon of citric acid per quart of tomatoes. For pints, use one tablespoon bottled lemon juice or 1/4 teaspoon citric acid. Acid can be added directly to the jars before filling with product. Add sugar to offset acid taste, if desired. Four tablespoons of a 5 percent acidity vinegar per quart may be used instead of lemon juice or citric acid. However, vinegar may cause undesirable flavor changes.
Sterilizing
Don’t use jars with any chips or cracks. Wash the jars, lids, and screw bands in hot, soapy water, making sure to rinse well.
Place the jars upright on a wire rack in a large pot, fill pot with hot water until the jars are submerged, and bring the water to a boil. Boil for 10 minutes, turn off the heat, and leave jars in the water. Sterilize the lids according to the manufacturer’s instructions. I also used KP’s beer brewing sterilizer solution.
Using stainless-steel tongs, lift the jars from the pot, and place them on a padded layer of clean towels.
Sealing
Pour fruits or vegetables into the jars, and wipe the rims carefully. Each jar should be filled up to a quarter-inch from the top.
Eliminate air bubbles by poking through the contents of the jar with a chopstick or wooden skewer.
Place the lid onto the rim and, using one finger to hold the lid securely, twist on the screw band until it’s tight.
Put a wire rack on the bottom of a large pot, and fill the pot with hot water. Use a jar lifter to place each jar on the rack. Add enough water to cover the jars by 2 inches, and bring the water to a boil.
Boil the jars for 10 minutes; remove from the water with a jar lifter, and allow the jars to stand on the towels for 24 hours. When the jars are cool, check for a slight indentation in the lid, which indicates a vacuum seal.
And you’re good for the winter, tomato hoarder!
Leave no blushed orb on the vine. (One other trick I recently learned for those green tomatoes in the face of a coming frost is that you can pick them, put them in a bag sealed with a banana (EW), and they will ripen at an accelerated rate because of the ethylene gas released. Works!)
