I’m heading to Portland, OR tomorrow for a few days with my sister. She moved there last June, and is loving it, but we agree that thrifting and canning are two things that are more fun when done with someone else. I’m looking forward to doing quite a bit of shopping and sight-seeing while I am there, but maybe not so much canning.

So it seems fitting that I stopped by the farmers’ market this morning and found a big bucket of tomato 2nds at a table for $10. I thought “I am leaving town tomorrow, what better way to spend most of my day than canning tomatoes??” Thankfully, we had company over Saturday, so the house is still passably clean… and for the record, I did also get some laundry done… and ate lunch. Packing will happen eventually…

One of the best things my grandmother Whillock ever did for me (and there are a number of things on that “best things” list!) is introduce me to real, homemade, canned tomatoes. I could just sit and eat them out of the jar, I love them so much. When she was introducing me to fresh tomatoes as a wee one, she sprinkled sugar on them – I guess using the logic “kids like sugar, so let’s make their veggies sweet!” Thank goodness I grew out of that, and now one of my favorite snacks is a warm-from-the-vine tomato. I also love the way the plants smell – kind of spicy, and earthy. I imagine the scent is very close to what a woodland fairy’s wings probably smell like.

While grandma worked in the kitchen, I remember hearing her whistle at times, and if she got worked up about something or was feeling particularly silly – which was not a regular occurrence – she’d hike up the skirt of her shirt-dress above her knees and do a little jig. I’m sure there is some jig-dancing lingering in my genetic code somewhere, transported to the Ozark Mountains from Tennessee through the Oxford clan, and to them from ancestors who arrived in America from England with a twinkle in their eye and folk tunes hiding under their hats.

That love of folk music that grandma had passed down to my mother. She was a wannabe-political-activist in the 1960s, disguised as a Mary Tyler Moore clone. As a girl in college, she listened to The Kingston Trio, Peter, Paul & Mary, and New Christy Minstrels… and went on to raise four children who also love music. She was a successful Tupperware Lady, a frustrated artist, and a wearer of double-knit polyester.  She didn’t can tomatoes, but she made sure we spent time in her mother’s kitchen, which was good enough.

This is the best music I can imagine listening to while canning tomatoes. Or while doing laundry and avoiding packing… Or all of the above. Enjoy!