Cooking and eating had been such a huge part of our relationship. I cooked for him almost every day. We tried new restaurants and different kinds of food for date nights, and he’s the sole reason I learned how to preserve food.

I remember the first couple of weeks after he was gone, lying on the kitchen floor and staring at the canned goods we had made together. Holding the jars in my hands. Crying. Screaming. Wanting to smash every single one of them on the floor.

I could barely stand to be in the kitchen of the home we shared for over two years. A room that was once filled with life had suddenly become unbearable.

I hated that people were trying to force me to eat. My brain was so fogged by grief that I saw the people who loved and cared for me as enemies.

“Why won’t they just let me starve?” I remember thinking.

Every bite and swallow was painful. The only thing I could stomach at that point was alcohol. I think for at least two weeks I was surviving off whatever carbs Budweiser was giving me.

I remember the day I realized I was actually hurting myself. It was the day we designed his headstone.

Afterward, I stopped by to see my grandpa, and the look of horror on his face when he saw me for the first time since the funeral was enough. He didn’t need to say anything, but in the nicest way he could, he said, “You’re getting too skinny.”

I looked down at my stained sweatpants I’d been wearing for God only knows how long. They were barely staying up on my hips.

And I think, for the first time since he died, I really looked at myself.

Not at the person I had lost. Not at the food I couldn’t bring myself to eat. Not at the people I had convinced myself were trying to force me to do something I didn’t want to do.

At myself.

And I realized that grief was taking more from me than I was willing to admit.

That realization didn’t automatically make me go order a steak dinner, but it made me want to start trying.

So, I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Skittles at 7:30 in the morning? Fine. A bowl of cereal at 2:00 a.m.? Go for it. If I wanted something and could actually stomach it, I ate it. At that point, there were no rules. I wasn’t trying to eat perfectly or get back to the person I was before. I was just trying to eat.

The first time I walked back into the kitchen with the intention of actually making something, not reheating something, not grabbing something on my way through, but actually cooking, I remember how strange it felt.

The kitchen had spent months being a place I avoided at all costs. Every tool, every pan, every jar seemed to have a memory attached to it.

Cooking had been ours.

So, I made chicken and dumplings.

It was his favorite meal that I cooked, and I thought, what would be more fitting than that for the first meal I made?

As I cooked, I felt like I was making it for him. I could hear all his little remarks in my head as I made it. The things he would say. The little comments he always had about whatever I was cooking.

And for the first time in a very long time, it made me happy.

It’s been five months since he’s been gone, and now I’m cooking nearly every day again. I’m making all of mine and his favorites, along with some new recipes that I never made when he was here because of certain things he didn’t like.

He hated beans.

And now, every time they’re on my plate, I laugh because I know that if he were here, he wouldn’t even think about touching them.

I think that’s what I’ve learned about grief and food.

For a long time, I thought cooking again would mean accepting that he was gone. That enjoying the kitchen again somehow meant I was leaving him behind. But the opposite has been true.

Cooking has become one of the places where I still feel closest to him.

Sometimes it’s his favorite meal. Sometimes it’s a recipe we made together. Sometimes it’s opening a jar of something we preserved together and remembering how much he hated when I made a mess of the kitchen. And sometimes, it’s just eating a plate full of beans and laughing because I know exactly what he’d have to say about it.

He is gone, and I can’t change that.

But food is one of the ways I get to carry him with me.

And I think, in a strange way, finding my way back into the kitchen helped me find a little bit of myself again, too.

I will always love you Jim.

As crazy as the last few weeks have been, I can't help but notice something that's quietly sneaking up on us.

The mornings are getting colder, the sun is setting sooner, summer is already starting to loosen its grip. I’ve always loved late summer, there's a strange feeling of nostalgia that comes with it. It makes me think of when I went back to school shopping with grandma and when my friends and I were planning our last sleepovers of the summer vacation.

It's bittersweet but comforting, and as much as I'd love to hop into soup season and my cozy sweatpants right now, we have plenty of work to do before the leaves change here in Michigan.

If your garden is anything like mine, then it’s producing faster than you can keep up. I swear my peppers and cucumbers are doubling overnight, my tomatoes have finally started to ripen, and my dill and basil are begging to be harvested and dried. So I created a list so we can preserve our hard work while it’s at its best. When the garden is buried under snow, we can open a jar and, for a moment, remember what the season felt like.

1. Freeze all the tomatoes you can’t can (or don’t feel like canning), you can always get them out later and make salsas, tomato sauce, etc.

2. Hang and dry all your herbs for your future winter soups and roasts or homemade seasoning blends. Make sure to hang them in a dark, cool room.

3. Basil should be at its peak right now, make pesto and freeze it.

4. Pickling things is your best friend. It's simple and the easiest way to preserve your harvest when you're tired of thinking of 20 different recipes to fill your jars. Pickle cucumbers, carrots, jalapeños, beans, and even cherry tomatoes.

5. Plan where you will plant your garlic in the fall.

6. Save the seeds from your favorite flowers and crops.

7. FIND ALL YOUR CANNING SUPPLIES. Your pressure canner weight, lids, jar sizes, your funnel, and your tongs. Do not be like me, I have 3 boxes in my basement, and every year without fail I seem to misplace something, and then I have to delay what I was planning to make because I have to dig through everything, order something, or run to the store because past me never put it back in the right place.

8. Shred and freeze all your leftover zucchini, youll thank me when you want a fresh loaf of zucchini bread this fall. (Tip: freeze in the exact amounts you need for your bread recipe, such as 1-2 cups)

Every season asks something different of us.

Spring asks us to plant. Summer asks us to tend. Late summer asks us to work a little harder than we’d like. Before long, fall will ask us to slow down.

Happy preserving, and I'll see you next week, assuming my garden decides to cooperate.

My late boyfriend Jimmy was obsessed with these. He would go through a jar a week, so I always kept these stocked in our home, we even got his grandparents hooked on them (Hi Paula!).

Now, every time I crack open a jar, I think of him. It's one of those simple things that brings back so many good memories.

I love giving these out at Christmas because they’re always a crowd favorite. They’re spicy, don't get me wrong, but just sweet enough to keep you going back for more.

Ingredients:

16 cups of jalapeños

2 cups apple cider vinegar

6 cups white sugar

4 teaspoons garlic powder

2 teaspoons red pepper flakes

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Note: Sometimes I use red jalapeños with the green ones. It doesn't change the flavor, it's simply so they look prettier when I give them out around Christmas.

Instructions:

Combine everything except the jalapeños in a deep pot on the stove, bring to a boil for 5 minutes, stirring often.

Reduce to a simmer, add your jalapeños, and simmer for 4 minutes.

Fill your jars with just the jalapeños, and boil the liquid for an additional 6 minutes, then add the juice to your jars with the jalapeños, fill to about a half-inch headspace.

Save any leftover juice, you can use this in homemade BBQ sauce or spicy margaritas.

Water bath your filled jars for 15 minutes, then let them sit in a dark place for at least two weeks before enjoying.

How to enjoy:

You can usually find me eating these delicacies straight from the jar, however, a great way I love to serve these is with cream cheese and a Wheat Thin (or any cracker of your liking). They're great on burgers, tacos, or in your cocktails.

Please let me know if you tried this recipe; I would love to hear your thoughts.

Those are the cookbooks I want to share today.

Ball has been in business for well over 100 years, its likely each one of us has at least one mason jar in our cupboards. I found this book a few months ago while strolling around the local Tractor Supply, and I had to have it. I will admit that I bought it purely with the intention to have it sit in my kitchen and add to the aesthetic, but as I flipped through it, I discovered recipes such as a peach salsa, which I had never even thought of making before but now sits on my basement shelf, and let me tell you, it’s delicious.

It’s quickly become one of my favorites, and I would recommend this book to anyone beginning their journey in food preservation. Not only is it filled with delicious recipes, but it also teaches you tips, tricks, problem-solving, and easy, basic recipes to help you get started. There’s a reason they’ve been in business for over a century.

Hannah Taylor is a woman I found online a couple of years ago and immediately fell in love with her style of cooking, its comforting, it’s my grandma, and her personality and love of feeding her family is one that shines through in her videos. When I heard she was producing a cookbook, I instantly preordered. Just a few days ago, I had canned a blueberry jam, and I was craving a late-night snack when I remembered her buttermilk biscuit recipe. It's simple, utterly delish and classic, and every time I make it for someone, they fall in love with it. So I sat in my kitchen with a friend, and we ate a cast-iron full of her biscuits and the blueberry jam. My friend looks at me and says, “I'm moving in” so beware because these biscuits might give you roommates.

Another southern woman named Hannah, Hannah Dasher, like Hannah Taylor, is a woman I found online, and when she advertised her cookbook, it was another one I had to have. Although I'm a Yankee from Michigan, these southern Hannahs KNOW how to cook, and they are not scared of sugar, butter, and heavy cream, so it’s right up my alley because those are all things I believe in. Ms. Dasher is a person who is authentically herself, shes nostolgic, comforting, and unbelievably funny. If you love vintage recipes, old country music, and butter, I highly recommend this book. It’s filled with recipes I remember my grandmother making, along with some classics you still find at church potlucks.

This one is near and dear to my heart and at least 3x older than me, it was my great-great-grandmother's. A woman whom I was named after, and ironically, I now live in her home where this cookbook used to sit. It was passed down to my grandmother, and now to me, where it's back where it belongs in the same kitchen where it all began. When someone asks me if I have a recipe for something, I say, “Let me see if Grandma had something.” and usually she did. It’s filled with recipes from her and from ladies who are now long gone, who once shared them at their recipe exchange parties. (Let’s bring those back btw) Sorry everyone, but there’s only one copy, and you can’t buy these traditions anywhere.

Last but not least, my mother gave me this cookbook for Christmas. Long ago, when I saw the movie “Julie and Julia,” in which Stanley Tucci played Julia Child's husband, something about him stuck with me. I didn’t know that he actually cooked himself and had a cookbook, let alone that he cooked one of my favorite kinds of food, Italian. His book honors his family and his own heirloom recipes passed down to him, the recipes are a little more challenging if you’re a beginner, however, I think everyone should have this book if you love wine, pasta, and tomatoes as much as I do.

I’d love to hear from you and what your favorite cookbook is that you can't live without. Let me know in the comments. I'm always looking for recommendations, and I can always buy another bookshelf if mine gets too full.

What strikes me as odd is people's reaction to preserving food as if it’s an outdated or extraordinary skill, “You can your own food?” with a look on their face as if I just told them I send mail by pigeon or use an oil lamp to go use an outhouse in the middle of the night, but to me it’s not strange at all. Up until the late 20th century, preserving food wasn’t a hobby, it was just a part of life. Modern conveniences such as huge corporate grocery stores, DoorDash, and Dollar Generals every 10 miles made these skills that were second nature to most less common. Canning has made me appreciate food and myself in a different way. I'm working with the rhythm of the seasons and valuing what each harvest gives me, and I know exactly what’s in each jar because 9 times out of 10 I planted it, weeded around it, then harvested it.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve given out jars at work, during holidays, and as a parting gift when someone visits me. Without fail, I get a message a few weeks later asking for some more and that they will pay, but I’ll never charge, I just want my jars back. My favorite conversations are the ones where someone asks me to teach them how to make something. Recipes are meant to be shared, so if you’ve ever thought of starting canning but feel intimidated, I hope this recipe below convinces you to try.

Strawberry Lemonade Concentrate:

7 cups of strawberries (you can use blueberries if you don’t like strawberries)

4 cups of lemon juice

2-4 cups of sugar (to your taste)

Puree your fruit in a blender, then transfer to a pot with the lemon juice and sugar. DO NOT bring it to a boil, you just want the sugar to dissolve. While this is heating up, sanitize your pint jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes. When the sugar is dissolved, there will be a foam on top. Scrape this off and fill your hot jars. Put your lids and rings on just finger tip tight and place them back in the water bath, when it comes back to a boil, set a timer for 15 minutes, when the timer goes off turn off the heat and let them sit for 5 minutes before removing, NEVER set your hot jars straight on the counter, place a kitchen towel down and let them cool for 24 hours.

This will make about 5 pint jars.

Start now, because when it’s snowing outside, and you twist open a jar of lemonade concentrate, peaches, or cowboy candy that you made with your own hands, you’ll understand why so many generations before us took the time. It’s about more than food. It’s about slowing down, appreciating the work that goes into every bite, and keeping a tradition alive.

So if you make this recipe, I’d love to hear how it turned out. Recipes, like traditions, are meant to be passed around.

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Welcome to my blog! Here, we will explore a little bit of everything. I started this blog out of my passion for writing and research. This is my first time publicly sharing my writing, and I hope you find something here that resonates with you.

I discovered this space thanks to my mother, a fantastic writer who blogs on this platform (Black Sheep Mom). While she tackles more controversial and challenging topics, I write about whatever is on my mind daily.

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