Many Georgians are at work this fall, preserving the bounty of the vegetable gardens they planted back in the springtime. In this week's commentary, Salvation South Editor Chuck Reece shares found memories of canning and putting up time spent with his Aunt Mary.

Cabbage on a table
Credit: Stacy Reece/Salvation South

TRANSCRIPT:

In Georgia, it's canning and putting up time. And for all y'all who planted vegetable gardens this year, I hope that you've had a bountiful harvest season and that you are now in the middle of preserving that bounty to last you through the winter months.

When I was a kid, I loved canning time at my Aunt Mary's house. Her enormous kitchen was the buzzing heart of our entire family's canning and putting up operations at harvest time. And my Aunt Mary did all the canning work even though glaucoma had long since taken her eyesight. She operated giant canners on her stove without seeing the pressure gauges. She regulated the pressure with her ears during the urgency in the sound of the steam and adjusting the stove burners accordingly.

After my mother died when I was 11, I spent a lot of time every fall at Mary's helping her put up food. She was famous in the family for her sauerkraut and cutting cabbage became one of my primary jobs. I remember so well the day she taught me how to do it. "There's a little foot stool over yonder in the corner," she said. "Go get it and bring it over here by the sink so you can stand up tall enough to do this." I did, as I was told, and she presented me with a tin dish pan filled with fresh cabbage. Each had cut into quarters. She pulled a pocket knife from her ever present apron, put the sharp edge of an open tin can down on a wooden cutting board, then unfolded the knife and punched several holes in the top lid. She's blind, I thought. She's going to jab a hole in her thumb. She did not of course. She had done such work for years in her darkness. "Okay, see here," she said, "I made you a kraut-cutter. You hold it in one hand and you put your other hand on the rim of the dish pan and chop up all that cabbage until it's about kraut size. You eat my kraut. You know what it looks like." And that's how I came to love the ritual of cutting kraut for her.

A few weeks ago, a writer named George Lancaster sent a story to Salvation South, the online magazine edit. It was about his annual ritual of making and preserving his grandma Nai Nai's  apple-spice jam. Every year he peels and slices the apples, simmers them down with sugar and spices, and then preserves the resulting jam in mason jars. He sends those jars all over the world to folks who are part of his family circle.

Few things in this life are more satisfying and sharing the food you make with the folks you love. And I hope this fall is bringing you many opportunities to do just that. Come visit us at SalvationSouth.com.

Salvation South editor Chuck Reece comments on Southern culture and values in a weekly segment that airs Fridays at 7:45 a.m. during Morning Edition and 4:44 p.m. during All Things Considered on GPB Radio. You can also find them here at GPB.org/Salvation-South and now on your favorite podcast platforms as well.