Mom and I both love to make jam. I think we have dominant pioneer genes. We also enjoy putting ‘food by’ in general. Eating jam, however, has gone by the wayside for me. It slipped away when the doctor told me gluten and I we’re no longer friends. No PB&Js? Why bother? I still make it though!
My husband and I are getting ready to take a long weekend to the coast. Friends throw and huge bash on the coast this weekend, which we will drop in on, briefly. I thought, “What a great way to move some jam!” The revelers always welcome additions to the larder for their 10 day party. As I sorted through the not insignificant jam stash, I found four jars that were no longer sealed. This is what I realized while emptying the jars this morning:
Jar #1: Labeled 2008, made by mom. Outside of jar was never wiped off, inside edge of jar not wiped. (Alchemy meets science in canning via scrupulous jar edge cleaning in order for the seal to take place, hence a long shelf life sans refrigeration.)
Jar #2: Labeled 2008, made by mom. Same as above.
Jar #3: The lid has residue of the same label on it. Assume it was made by mom. The outside was clean. The inside edge and the actual top of the jar had jam all over. This jar could never have sealed.
Jar #4: No label at all. Otherwise, the same as jar #3. Made by mom.
Mom is far more relaxed than I am about most things, but not canning. There’s no room in canning for sloppiness. Sloppy canning makes people ill enough to end up in hospital, and, depending on that person, possibly not leave.
I think this is a 7 year old sign of dementia that I’m seeing for the first time.