On the red huckleberries, I treat them more like currants than cherries. They’re awsome in pancakes and in a shortcake.

You don’t need to do it survival style — which is how I learned it all as a kid during WWII — but you can do it speciality style. Make and can your own chili and salsa — do peach preserves rather than just peaches. But the skills and tastes Peanut learns now will be with her for years. Take advantage, transfer the knowledge.

Oh, I forgot. Every Christmas, my grandma and my Aunt Mable made candy. But that’s for another Saturday.

But I stuck with it and I would bring them in and my grandmother and I would rinse them and then put them in a huge pot that must have been two or three gallons, add water, and then fire up the stove.

Later we would transfer all the liquid to another pot and strain the residue of the berries and seeds thru cheesecloth. We actually had to wring out the cheesecloth, Grandma on one end, me on the other and let the liquid drain into pot #2.

Grandma made jelly out of the liquid in pot #2 and then she made jam out of the leftover seeds and berry residue.

The jam was my favorite. I can taste it today in my mind on warm toast or muffin on a cold fallmorning.

Canned Goods

Let those December winds bellow ‘n’ blow
I’m as warm as a July tomato.

Peaches on the shelf
Potatoes in the bin
Supper’s ready,
everybody come on in
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
You can taste a little of the summer
my grandma’s put it all in jars.
Well, there’s a root cellar,
fruit cellar down below
Watch you head now, and down you go
And there’s [repeat chorus]

Maybe you’re weary an’ you don’t give a damn
I bet you never tasted her blackberry jam.

Ah, she’s got magic in her – you know what I mean
She puts the sun and rain in with her green beans.
What with the snow and the economy and ev’ry’thing, I think I’ll jus’ stay down here and eat until spring.

When I go to see my grandma
I gain a lot of weight
With her dear hands
she gives me plate after plate.
She cans the pickles, sweet and dill
She cans the songs of the whippoorwill
And the morning dew and the evening moon
‘N’ I really got to go see her pretty soon
‘Cause these canned goods I buy at the store Ain’t got the summer in them anymore.
You bet, grandma, as sure as you’re born
I’ll take some more potatoes and a thunderstorm.
Peaches on the shelf
Potatoes in the bin
Supper’s ready, everybody come on in,
now Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
Taste a little of the summer,
My grandma put it all in jars.
Let those December winds bellow and blow,
I’m as warm as a July tomato.

One head of cabbage
One bottle Thai peanut sauce
One bottle vinegar (cider preferred)
One sharp knife (or decent grater)

Chop up or shred cabbage head, watching carefully for nasty things like cabbage worms (just throw away the contaminated part if you find any).

Put shredded cabbage in bowl. Dump in Thai peanut sauce, mixed with vinegar to extend it, to taste: about a teaspoon of this mixture per cup of shredded cabbage is about right.

There. The easiest salad/slaw in the Universe, and the Thai sauce gives it that chichi/swank/tasty vibe. You can fancy it up with some ground peanuts, but really there’s no need: What you have will get you kudos at the next potluck you bring it to.

Christy, I second the recommendation of the “Blue Book”. It also covers freezing, and the newer versions have recipes to use the stuff you’ve put up. I buy it (every time they put out a new edition!) at my local hardware-garden store (it’s OSH, and they have lots of canning equipment, as well as stuff for ’seal-a-meals’).