Nothing like writing a chipper, up-beat piece about canning to ensure a less-than-pleasant canning experience will follow.
This morning while I was out watering the front plants my husband came out and asked me if I knew what was in the plastic bags on the floor of the food storage room. My heart sank. I knew what was in them. Chicken. Chicken that started out frozen. Chicken that my son was supposed to put in the freezer in that room, not on the floor. Fifteen pounds of boneless-skinless chicken that was on sale and that now needed immediate attention.
What do you do with fifteen pounds of chicken that needs to be cooked? Well, I decided to can it. So today I canned 12 pints of chicken in my pressure cooker.
You could say that I'm a task-oriented kind of person. I like to plan out what I'm going to do during a day . . . sometimes weeks in advance. Having to can chicken on a day that I was going to use for something else really made me grumpy. And because my son was gone golfing with his grandpa, I couldn't even vent at him.
By the time he got home I'd decided that instead of yelling at him, I'd have him buy about ten dollars worth of chicken that will end up in the freezer. He wasn't too happy, but neither was I. I bet he'll listen a little more carefully when I'm asking him to put things away.