A New Pie and Beer

I'm finally getting the new blog up and running (I have no idea what I'm doing), so head over there for new posts, pictures, recipes, and new-look fun. I had to delete all the old posts from the WordPress version because the wonkiness was crazy-making, but you can still jump back here if you want to browse through the P&B archives. If you're seeing this on a reader of some sort, be sure to change the address so you don't miss any of the action (ha) at pieandbeer.wordpress.com.

Finally

Well, folks, it's about time this blog got a new look. I'm working on getting it all gussied up, so stay tuned for the vastly improved, prettier, hipper P&B, coming in a couple weeks to screens right in front of you!

Letting Go and Catching Up

Three weeks ago I turned the manuscript for my next book over to my publisher. As I wait, with no small amount of dread, for the first round of edits to come back, I thought I'd post a few pictures here, with some nattering commentary to go with them—you know, write a blog post.

The book I was working on is a vegetable cookbook, and even as I was hitting "Send" I wasn't completely convinced that it was, in fact, finished. There are always more recipes I want to include, and this would be especially true of a vegetable book, wouldn't it? Can't you easily come up with something even better? The last recipe I developed for this book, though, was a comfort to me in a couple ways: This rough-hewn version of South Indian–style pepper water might actually be the best dish in the book, and that thought made it a bit easier to tell myself I'd reached an end point of sorts. And that afternoon, sitting down by myself at our bright red table with the winter sun streaming in the window, with a bowl of steaming, tamarind-sour, spice-fragrant broth in front of me, I truly wished that every future reader of this book could be sitting there with me, sharing and enjoying this meal with me. I guess that's why I want to keep learning about food and writing about what I learn. 

The morning after "Send," Derek and Thalia and I headed out on a road trip. As one does. We crossed from Nebraska into Kansas in midmorning, which was probably the ideal time of day to be driving through the Flint Hills in the northeastern quadrant of the state. We hit Dodge City by midday, and from that point west, we realized later, we were essentially following the Cimarron, or southerly, route of the Santa Fe Trail.

From a surprisingly hard-core kids' book we picked up for Thalia.

For the casual traveler, Kansas west of Dodge City is, shall we say, difficult to love, not a part of the country in which to linger. But eventually we found ourselves on small roads in the Oklahoma panhandle, which was rougher and less cultivated, more classically beautiful, more pull-over-worthy.

Kansas was less visually interesting than this.

We pulled into Clayton, New Mexico, our town for the night, just before sunset.

For the next few days we tooled around Derek's old stomping grounds in Albuquerque and up toward Santa Fe. We stayed at a lovely lavender farm just at the edge of Albuquerque that seemed to have been made with us in mind. There were goats, chickens, guinea hens, a milk cow, and a sweet "farm shop" just outside our room.

The lights of the city and on top of the Sandia range behind it were especially beautiful from the lavender field.

We've been living in Nebraska, which as you might know is sort of flat, for about eight months now, so being in a place where the topographical lines are crowded closer together was especially refreshing.

The food we ate looked mostly like this:

And it was delicious.

On our way home we followed much of the northern, Mountain route of the Santa Fe Trail and spent the night in La Junta, Colorado, so we could visit Bent's Old Fort, a place that's held much fascination for Derek since we moved west. The fort has been reconstructed of adobe (real adobe) on what is thought to be the original foundation footprint, within sight of the Arkansas River, the old boundary between the United States and Mexico. We were very proud of Thalia when the reenactor asked her if she knew what kind of fort it was and she answered, correctly, "A trading fort!"

 In the spirit of the place, at the nearby Safeway I traded some American dollars for these:

Look for a chicos del horno (dehydrated sweet corn) post in the not-too-distant future.

When we got home to Lincoln, it was Thalia's seventh birthday, and I made a horrendous pink strawberry cake that we enjoyed very much.

Guest post on Foodpocalypse

Since moving to Nebraska, I've been lucky to have made the acquaintance of the thoughtful Lincolnite writers of the blog Foodpocalypse, tagline: "farm to table and all the ugliness in between." They invited me to do a guest post discussing two New York Times cookbooks, and I encourage you to check it out—there are a couple of good recipes toward the end, if you get that far (it's longer than I thought).



If you're in Lincoln, first of all, please introduce yourself! Second, you might also be interested in the other little blog I started up, focusing on local restaurant reviews, LNK Eats. There aren't many reviews up yet, but I'm working on it.

Cookie Reviews: Week 4

We're behind the Butlers at Step into My Thimble, who have already posted week 5's reviews from Dubai, featuring more Bahlsen.

So we actually did choose two different cookies last week, but forgot to take a picture of the packages. They weren't cookies I'd like to buy again, so here's a brief review of each: Carr's Ginger Lemon Creme cookies (these were my choice but they were way too sweet, and I actually didn't care for the spicy ginger with wan lemon flavor) and Pepperidge Farm Milano Melts (the whole point of a Milano cookie is the flavor that goes with the chocolate—the mint or orange, for example—and these just have chocolate in the center; in fact, if you closed your eyes, these tasted a lot like a Chips Ahoy from a vending machine; also the faux "melted" aspect of the filling was a little disconcerting to me—i.e., how'd they do that?).

Anyway, moving on . . .

Up top we have my choice, Bahlsen Kipferl, which are "delicate" hazelnut cookies.

Thalia's review:  it locs licke bred  but is'int

My review: They are delicate: crisp and light, with a powerful hazelnut flavor (the nuts are ground finely and part of the dough) and a light dusting of granulated sugar. I'm afraid there's not much else to say about them. They're fine, but I don't think I'd buy them again. I think maybe hazelnut, which is so distinctive, needs something equally assertive to go along with it, like, of course, chocolate.

Thalia's pick this week, Voortman Assorted Festive Cookies, is something she's been considering for a while—there's a whole endcap display of Voortman holiday cookies near the meat case where we wait for the butcher to cut our order (one excellent benefit of living in Nebraska is the local dedication to good-quality meat; few of the grocery stores we frequent sell very much meat that's already in packages), so she's had plenty of time to consider which kind to choose. I'm sure she decided on the assortment so that she could legitimately taste all three varieties in a sitting. Smart girl.

Thalia's review: swet with paldrd shogr. wich is the snoeman. [Ed. note: I don't know why she consistently spells the "ow" sound, as in powdered sugar, with "al"; she did this on her spelling test last week: "braln" for brown.]

My review: These taste pretty much exactly as you'd expect, which is kind of the beauty of them.

(Not) Cookie Reviews: Week 3

I didn't think it'd happen so soon, but I can't buy another box of cookies just yet. So instead, this week, after reading a little article about them in the New York Times, Thalia and I tried peanut butter and pickle sandwiches—small ones, because we both thought they'd be terrible. I mean, I've known about them for a long time and know that they're popular with a lot of people, but I thought that at the very least the fancy McClure's garlic dill pickles we had in the fridge weren't the kind of pickle people mean when they say they like them on peanut butter sandwiches. And maybe the unsweetened peanut butter wasn't the right peanut butter, either. We both took our first bite at the same time, like two kids jumping into cold water. We needn't have worried, as we both liked this sandwich so much I made another one for us to share, with our last two slices of bread. 

Thalia's review: the picl tastes like jely or huny on the peinutbutr.thats wie i love it!

My review: The vinegary, garlicky pickles did serve very much the same purpose as tart jam or jelly, with the added benefit of being crisp-crunchy and salty. It's such a natural combination—peanuts, salt, sour—it's a wonder it's not more common. I'll definitely be making these again, though I'm sure I'll be enjoying them as little afternoon snacks rather than, you know, lunch.

Actual cookie reviews will return next week! And be sure to check Step into My Thimble for more from Heidi and Maeve in Dubai!

Cookie Reviews: Week 2

Heidi and Maeve's Operation Eat All the Cookies continued this week with some real lovelies, including a hazelnut chocolate wafer cookie made in Italy that sounded so up my alley (despite Maeve's description of it as being "sort of made out of oil") that when I saw the very same ones at the local "gourmet" store today I picked up the box to try them myself. Indeed they were tasty and rich, and appropriately small.

Thalia's surprisingly subdued choice this week are Natural Nectar Cocoa Lady Fingers, made in France. This is the same brand, I see now, as last week's Choco Dream Cookies.

Thalia's review: its swet and shugry! [Ed note: I'm struggling with the urge to copyedit. Thalia is actually learning editing and proofreading marks in her class at school, so I might begin doing some gentle corrections in future reviews, see how she reacts. I don't want to discourage her from writing, of course, but I think she's ready for it.] 

My review: These are narrower and less flat than store-bought ladyfingers I've had in the past, and a little more dense and uniform in texture, though still very light. The cocoa aspect, as you might expect, is very mild. They'd be good in a dessert in which they're soaked, but for straight eating I think I'd prefer the plain vanilla type, just for the purity of its sugar flavor.

Continuing with the oats theme from last week, my choice was Gille Sweet Oat Crisps, made in Sweden.

Thalia's review: ther crisp and fin.thar fary fary gud.thar kindof braln on the egis.

My review: Love these. Crisp-crunchy, airy but substantial, with simple and comforting oat and browned-butter flavors. There's also a slight baking soda flavor that is not unpleasant. They're sweet, almost caramelly, and I'd like to try one with some good blue cheese or a sharp Cheddar. I had mine with white wine after supper, but tea in the afternoon would be even better.

Please feel free to join in the cookie-reviewing fun. Heidi suggests using #cookiereview or just let us know if you're doing reviews in the comments so we can link up. 

Cookie Reviews

My friend Heidi and her six-year-old daughter, Maeve, have started reviewing store-bought cookies—for the fun of trying the interesting, mostly British cookies available in her local (Dubai) shops and as writing practice for Maeve. My six-year-old saw their reviews and spied a good opportunity to eat more cookies while doing "writing practice" herself. Heidi suggested we do a back-and-forth on our respective blogs, so here we go. Her post, "Operation Eat All the Cookies," is here, at Step into My Thimble. Our reviews follow, with pictures by Thalia.

First up are Trader Joe's Oatmeal Cranberry Dunkers, which we happened to have and which I suppose would be my choice even though we'd had them before.

Thalia's review: dunkers haf wit choclit designs on them. they are bumpy and sumoof. they are swet. they are good wif milk. i love them.

My review: White chocolate drizzle melts on contact with fingers, which is annoying. I'd say they'd be better without it, except that that would make them less addictive. These are hard, stale-seeming cookies with a mild spice flavor. Softens with a brief dip in tea.

Thalia's choice, Choco Dream Cookies, is more urbane because we were in the fancy-ish Open Harvest Co-op near our house, in Lincoln, Nebraska (yes! we moved to Nebraska about three months ago!). Heidi, I didn't realize these were "choco" until I looked at this picture—odd indeed. I'm not sure where they were made, but they are probably Euro.

Thalia's review:  i love dem a lot. the edges are scalupt.the choclit luks like a pichr wif a fram. i hope i can haf it ugen.

My review: These are just like the more common chocolate-topped butter cookies you'll find in any supermarket (I can't remember the brand, but they come in dark and milk chocolate varieties), but the fair-trade chocolate part of these is much better: smooth, dense, almost chewy, and guilt-free. There are no unexpected ingredients in the crisp butter cookie base, but I always seem to sense something like coconut or some other nut flavor. These are good. I ate almost the whole box. 

Stay tuned for more, and see Heidi's blog for the next installment from Dubai.

Sanjeev Kapoor's Potato, Banana, and Pomegranate Chaat

I just came across a picture of a chaat I made a couple months ago and thought I'd share the recipe now. It's from Sanjeev Kapoor's first U.S.-published book, How to Cook Indian [Food], which I worked on a bit for STC in late summer. The book is well worth checking out when it's released in April—it's absolutely loaded with fun, authentic, but do-able dishes from all over India. I especially liked the chaats, of course.

Aloo Kachalu Chaat
Serves 4 to 6.

This is only slightly simplified from Sanjeev's version.

1 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt, or more to taste
1 teaspoon tamarind concentrate
1 teaspoon chaat masala (see Note)
1 large ripe banana
2 potatoes, boiled, cooled, peeled, and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 sweet potato, boiled, cooled, peeled, and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 hot green chiles, minced
1/4 cup fresh pomegranate arils
Handful of fresh cilantro, chopped
1-inch piece fresh ginger, cut into thin julienne

In a large bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, salt, tamarind, and chaat masala. Add the banana, potatoes, sweet potato, chile, pomegranate, and cilantro and toss to coat. Taste and add more salt if necessary. Pile on a platter and scatter the ginger over the top. Serve at room temperature.

Note: The spice mix chaat masala can be purchased at Indian grocery stores, or you can mix up some of your own, or just sprinkle in a little coriander, cumin, and ground cayenne. Sanjeev's chaat masala: 1/4 cup coriander seeds, 2 teaspoons cumin seeds, 1 teaspoon ajwain, 2 or 3 dried red chiles, 3 tablespoons black salt (which I think is rather a lot), 1/2 teaspoon citric acid, 1 teaspoon amchur, 1 tablespoon regular salt, and 1 teaspoon ground black pepper—whole spices toasted and ground and then everything mixed together. Makes 1/2 cup.

Bulk Valentines

After last year's ill-advised adventure in elaborate preschool Valentines made weeks in advance (and the heartbreak that ensued when we found out that the class Valentines were not to be addressed to individual students, nor were they to contain any sweets), this year we made it easy on ourselves and did our anonymous cards assembly-line style.

I taped two sheets of 9-by-12-inch watercolor paper down on the table in front of the kid, and masked off six rectangles on each with tape, plus a border all around the edges. She just painted over the whole thing every which way (I painted some too), let it dry, then peeled off the tape and I cut them up into cards. Then I taped together some rubber letter stamps spelling out "THALI" and had her stamp each of them one night before bedtime; we untaped and added the final "A" at the end. Done.

She can write her name, of course, but I weighed the benefits to her of practicing her handwriting on twenty-eight cards against the possibility that it would make her mom go absolutely mad, and so she stamped.

A Pretty Good Way to Hem Jeans

Not at all food related, but I thought I'd post this anyway, along the lines of my little invisible zipper tutorial from way back, on the assumption that perhaps not a lot of people know how to hem jeans. Hey, at least it's content.

Almost all of my jeans have needed to be hemmed—I'm just that kind of shape, I guess. That is, not willowy. This is how I do it so I don't lose the nicely frayed and washed-in factory hem.

1. Fold the hem to the outside so that if you were to fold just the hem back down toward the floor it would be the length you want. In this picture, the red line will be the final length of the pant leg. Press well.

2. Put a jeans needle in your machine if you have one, and an edge-stitching foot if you have one. I've recently started using the edge-stitching foot whenever I can—it just makes it easier to sew a straight line—but it's certainly not necessary here. I don't use any special kind of thread here, but you could use heavy-duty if you'd like. I used a dark blue in the needle and a dark gray in the bobbin. Using a slightly longer stitch than usual, sew right next to the turned-under edge of the original hem. Depending on the jeans and your machine, it may get tricky as you go over the side seam and inseam. Go slowly, and help it along by turning the wheel manually if necessary. If you can't get over the inseam, don't force it: cut the threads and continue by hand.

3. In this case, I did have to stop before I got to the inseam because it was too thick to fit under the presser foot, even when it was raised (these are men's jeans; I haven't had this issue with my own), so I sewed that part by hand with a doubled thread, a long needle, and a thimble.

4. Using a regular presser foot and switching the needle thread to light gray (if you want to be fussy about it), line up the left edge of the foot with the line of stitching you just made, and sew a line of zigzag stitching (scribbled in red here) all the way around the pant leg.

5. Cut off the folded edge as close to the zigzag stitching as you can, being careful not to cut the stitching and being extra careful as you cut through the thick side seam and inseam so your shears don't go where you don't want them to.

6. Sew another line of zigzag stitch that extends just over the cut edges to keep unraveling to a minimum; note that you're sewing through two layers of seam allowance here.

7. Turn the zigzagged edge up to the inside of the pant leg and the original hem to the bottom. Press the bejeezus out of it, using lots of steam.

7. By hand, tack the seam allowances up to the side seam and inseam to keep them from flopping out.

8. Press some more, and you should have a pretty good-looking hem that you'd have to look closely at to see wasn't the original. You may have to press them again after they go through the wash, you may not. You could also, I suppose, take them to a dry cleaner and ask them to hit the hems with the professional steam iron.

Just in Time for Christmas Eve

A couple of oldies but goodies from the hot drinks book are featured today on STC Cooks: mulled wine, and broiled dates stuffed with curried cheddar, apple, and walnuts. I'd almost forgotten about those dates, but I may just have to indulge. Especially since I still have a few of the amazing selection of a dozen or so very different varieties of dates my dear friend Heidi sent us from Dubai, where she's lived for almost a year now. Win!

Contest at STC Cooks

Y'all should head over to STC Cooks and enter their cookbook giveaway by November 30. Just tell them about a memorable Thanksgiving and you could win a stack of really nice food books—they're good; I've read most of them.

Kimchi Ferment-along-a-thon!

Please join me and my publisher peeps over at the new STC Cooks blog for the first in a series of posts about making kimchi, Korean fermented cabbage and daikon (or other vegetables; here's a fun list of kimchi types—and some good-looking recipes—from Saveur to spark your imagination). Kimchi is one of the easiest preserves to make yourself: after giving the cabbage and other vegetables an overnight soak in a simple salt brine, you mix them up with a chile powder–orange paste, stuff them into a jar, and just kind of let the whole thing sit there until it tastes good, four or five days. Unlike, say, fermented dill pickles, there's no day-to-day maintenance required. You just leave it alone for a while, then screw a lid on and stick the jar in the fridge. It'll keep for weeks, very gradually becoming a little more sour.

Lots of readers (we hope) are going to make their own kimchi along with us, so if you've been wanting to be part of an enormous online community of enthusiastic cabbage and radish fermenters but didn't know where to start, here's your chance!

Thanks, Internet

D. had to go to the ATL for a book event tonight, so it's just us girls tonight (and our guard dog, Cooper). We had a nice meal inspired by this post and recipe for aloo simla mirch (potato and sweet pepper curry) on one of my new favorite blogs, The Perfect Pastry. "Supper was better than I thought it would be," proclaimed the four-year-old, but I knew it would be good even with my (minor) changes: I just put one slit serrano in and kept it aside for my own plate, I grated in half a tomato I had sitting around, and instead of making fresh all-out curry powder I used a little of the stuff from Taj Mahal and then coarsely ground some cumin and coriander seeds. Served with some leftover spiced brown basmati with some peas. Oh, it was wonderful. Thank you, Margie.

After supper, I turned on a movie, thinking maybe T. would kind of fall asleep on her own, saving me the whole drawn-out bedtime routine—we were both so tired this afternoon—and I could get some work done. Not a chance. We sat on the couch, huddled together, gripping our girlie nightgowns, totally engrossed in the extremely manipulative and simplistic but highly effective Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, which I'd seen on a list of a few recent non-snarky movies for youngsters blogged on Sweet Juniper!. (Thank you—really—Sweet Juniper! writer.)

For my part, once I managed to separate the Spirit Matt Damon voice-over from the ADM Informant! Matt Damon voice-over recently experienced, I was fine. T.'s reaction was a little more complex: She was sobbing through most of it—with sadness as well as happiness—but she would not let me turn it off no matter what happened. Or even turn down the volume so the sappy (but again, highly effective) Bryan Adams–Hans Zimmer score wouldn't get to her so much. This movie was intense for a kid, veering from euphoric relief to wrenching heartbreak every ten or fifteen seconds. Seeing T. parsing all that was almost too much for me. She enjoys the long form—Ponyo, which I find incredibly slow for an animated feature, has been a favorite of hers for a couple months—but I've never seen her so thrilled about a movie. She couldn't stop talking about it afterward. We watched all the DVD extras, and I learned how to sort of draw Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron, and she colored him red and green, and then she ran and got lots more paper and announced that she was going to make a movie about the horse. "But it's going to be different. It will be shorter. And no people will try to ride him, because wild horses aren't supposed to be rided. And the good guy will use a rope to get apples from a tree for all the horses." (And there was something about a strip'ed pebble.) She added, "I think you're going to like this movie. Half of it will be scary, and half of it will be good." Which sounds perfect to me.

Note the tissue handy. (And that's my wine, not hers.)

Some Lunchbox Inspiration

I just noticed that Hugh Acheson's new place in the ATL, Empire State South, seems to have opened, and the menus are up online. It all looks intriguing, but I'm especially delighted by the tiffin box lunches: you pay a deposit for the tiffin, take your lunch to work or wherever, and then return the tiffin. The meals themselves sound great, and I'm definitely going to steal many of those down-home ideas for T.'s lunches. (I also love the little half-cup canning jar of what looks like a yogurt of some sort in the second picture.)

I'm glad this came along, because today's box lunch for T. would appear to be the work of an insane person: a couple pieces of leftover sushi from her supper last night (I was getting some sliced turkey in the deli at Kroger; she spied the premade sushi and insisted on that for her meal), a turkey sandwich, and about a pound of grapes.

As a side note, I'm wondering where the restaurant got its supply of tiffins. I'd love one (or two), but retail is pricey! Anybody know of a good source for those?

Questions and Errata

There's something missing in the Cardamom Plum Jam on page 116.

Indeed, a line got dropped. The plums should be pitted and diced.

In the Tomato and Basil Jam with Sherry Vinegar on page 176, what do you do with the apple–lemon–tomato juice mixture?

Yikes, a whole paragraph is missing. After you cook the apples and lemon in the tomato juice for about 15 minutes, it should read: "Dump the tomato solids into the bowl and place a sieve over the bowl. Pour the apple and lemon mixture into the sieve and press as much of the juice and apple pulp through the sieve as you can. Discard the solids in the sieve."

Where do you add the lemon juice in the Nectarine Jam on page 107?

Add the lemon juice with the nectarines and sugar—you just put everything in at once and cook it till it looks like jam, which is kind of the beauty of this particular preserve.

Can you substitute one kind of vinegar for another in the pickle or salsa recipes?

No, please don't, unless you're using a vinegar of a higher percentage acidity than the one called for in the recipe. Otherwise you could compromise the safety of the pickle or salsa by lowering the acidity (that is, raising the pH), which could make it unsafe to can in a boiling-water bath.

Is that how you spell Seebee?

Well, that's embarrassing. It's Seabee. As in "sea," where the navy is.

Where else can you find citric acid?

I just noticed that the local health/gourmet food store here, Earth Fare, has citric acid in the bulk spices section for $9.99/pound, which is a little bit more expensive than yogurt-covered pretzels. So if you have a Whole Foods or some such near you, try the bulk section.

Imagined Asked Questions

It's fig, glorious fig season here in Georgia, and while looking at the two fig preserve recipes in my book I realized I hadn't made something clear. Some figs, as many of you probably know, are—like some tomatoes—not quite acidic enough to can in a boiling-water bath unless acid is added; here I use lemon and lemon juice, in quantities that should be—and have been, in my experience—sufficient. (The USDA/NCHFP, e.g., suggests 2 tablespoons lemon juice per quart of preserved figs in a light syrup; my recipes each make 4 half-pint jars and call for 1 lemon and 3 tablespoons, respectively.) What I didn't make clear is that the lemon or lemon juice in those two recipes (slow-roasted fig preserves with lemon, and honeyed fig jam with sesame seeds) is necessary for preservation purposes and should not be viewed as optional. These preserves, like most in the book, are low in sugar, so you need the added acid to make sure the pH is in the safe range. If you don't have lemon juice or aren't comfortable making a not-sugar-saturated fig preserve, these recipes make such small quantities that you could certainly just skip the canning and keep them in the fridge, from which they'll quickly disappear.

Padron Peppers

This was a really special treat for me: fresh Padron peppers from Mill Gap Farm, via Athens Locally Grown. Olive oil in a hot pan, plus plenty of coarse salt. (The National here in Athens sometimes serves them like this as a tapas.) You eat everything but the stem. The flesh and seeds are tender, pleasantly bitter. Some are hot, some mild, but they're never sweet. They just taste like little explosions of chile and salt. I don't often get all rhapsodic about foods, but these, last Thursday night, with a glass of cold white wine, were transporting. We need more of these in our lives, all of us. I get the impression they're not easy to grow, but can we please try?

Asked Questions

I thought I'd post a few of the canning questions I've gotten from folks over the last several weeks, posed here or on Facebook or by email or in person. If you have more, leave them in the comments, and I'll post again with answers if I have them, and eventually I'll figure out how to put an FAQ page on this blog thing. So here goes . . .

Where can you find citric acid for canning tomatoes and tomato sauce?

Some health food stores carry it, as do some Indian groceries (where it may be labeled "lemon salt"). It's available online from Amazon, Kalustyans, and Leeners, among many other vendors. If all else fails, you can use lemon juice or Fruit Fresh, which is citric acid stepped on with ascorbic acid and anti-caking agents (see the quantities for lemon juice and Fruit Fresh in the recipes in the book).

Do you have to dry off the flat jar lids after they've been in the hot water and before you put them on the jars?

No. Just slap ’em on.

Can you forgo peeling the tomatoes for sauce and just blend them up, skins and seeds and all?

Sure. Just wash the tomatoes really well first (there are more bacteria on the surface of the tomatoes, obviously, though those will be killed during the long processing time in the canning pot).

Can you can pesto in a boiling water bath?

No. Pesto is not an acid food (it has a high pH), and so it's not safe to can it in a boiling water bath. Freeze it instead!

What are your favorite things to preserve?

Sour cherries, all-purpose tomato sauce, salsa verde, and grapefruit marmalade are some of my favorites. They're extra-fun to make and delicious and useful.

Are your recipes approved by the USDA?

No. As far as I know, the only recipes officially approved by the USDA are the ones published in its handbook and online at the National Center for Home Food Preservation. The USDA is not in the business of evaluating or testing recipes to be published by private companies; the agency has developed its own recipes, and those are the ones they officially stand behind. That said, all of the canning methods described in my book conform exactly to current USDA standards for processing: I don't advocate the so-called open kettle or inversion method, I ask you to sterilize jars in boiling water rather than in a dishwasher or oven, processing times are totally in line with the USDA's recommendations, and so on. Fruit preserves in my book are significantly lower in sugar than those made by standard recipes, but when fruit (which is high acid) is canned using reliable methods sugar is not necessary for preservation purposes. The canned pickles in my book were tested for pH levels at several stages in the process—before processing and several days or weeks later—and packing and processing times conform to those recommended by the feds (in addition, temperatures were checked during processing using the method required of commercial canners by the FDA). If you still have concerns about a recipe—mine or any other—you can always send it to your local extension agent to ask if it looks okay to him or her. And, as always, use your judgment when opening and using a canned food, whether it has sealed properly or not. If anything doesn't seem right to you, toss it!