From garden to jar, canning is a celebration of nature’s gifts. ~ Unknown
Back in the 70s, I would do a little canning every summer, but it was almost always tomatoes, and the process was a choice, not a necessity. The situation was entirely different for my grandmothers, who were born more than seventy years earlier. How did they manage to preserve so much with so few modern conveniences? Some time ago, I mentioned the invention of can openers, but I didn’t delve into home canning. It’s time to remedy that oversight.
Where did canning originate?
No, not Mesopotamia this time. France. Yes, shocked me, too. I never think of practicalities in connection with the French–yet another error in judgment to add to my ever-lengthening list. Anyway, according to the USDA, the impetus for this invention (discovery?) was a 12,000-franc* reward. Napoleon made the offer in 1795, hoping to generate innovative ideas for long-term food storage. *The average wage was 1 franc per day. $2400 USD and the current value would be over $60,000.
Note that this was not an altruistic act. This was smack-dab in the middle of the French Revolution, and Napoleon’s troops needed provisions that would travel without spoiling. As it happens, there was no quick fix. Nicholas Appert, a French chef, won the prize 14 years later when he developed a method to process food using heat and airtight containers.
Onward to canning that doesn't need cans
By 1810, Peter Durand^ had created the tin can, but it was better suited to commercial canning than to home kitchens. Spruce Eats tells us that half a decade passed before glass food jars with metal clamps and rubber rings were available, and it wasn’t until 1858 that John Mason came up with a screw-on lid and its flat accompaniment, a rubber seal. I would have jumped onto the canning bandwagon at that point, but its time had not yet arrived–not with a high degree of adoption, anyway. ^Stories vary on this point.
During World War I, many resources that were ordinarily used for home and farm use were redirected for the war effort, according to IFAC. Women were encouraged to can at home, as the tin was needed elsewhere. The growth of home canning accelerated further during World War II, as extra sugar rations were offered as an incentive. Also, around that time, pressure cookers arrived on the scene, and they accelerated the canning process. The trend faded somewhat until the 70s and a “back-to-the-land” movement, but that surge didn’t last.
Why did we put a lid on canning?
I can only speculate, but here are some possibilities:
- Commercial canning improvements in processing have reduced the possibility that your neighborhood grocer is selling you botulism.
- Those same commercial canneries may be processing vegetables more cost-effectively than we can at home.
- Storage in 21st-century homes is not what it was in post-WWII. Not all of us have room to store a gross of quart-sized Mason jars.
Of course, it’s easier to bypass that kind of mess, not to mention that kind of work. When people first started canning at home, they had to start a fire and tend it to keep the heat at a consistent temperature. Even though most U.S. homes now have gas or electric ranges, running water, and dishwashers, canning still requires significant effort. It’s not for everybody. It isn’t for me anymore, either, but I do remember the gratification I felt when looking at the canned tomato or chili sauce lineup I had worked on for hours.
Is home-canned food better, nutritionally? I don’t know, but I’m confident that those jars contain only ingredients that most people can identify. Does it taste better? That’s subjective, naturally, but in my experience, home-canned food is miles better because someone you know, perhaps someone you love, added effort to each jar.
Yes, I think it’s better. Every. Single. Time. How about we bring back canning and send bell-bottoms and platform shoes back to the 20th century?
I have memories of canning plums, pears, peaches and tomatoes. Since commercial canning can’t match the flavor or love in home canned food it was worth the effort 😉
Well, we’re all filling our time with something else. In your case, I think it’s bread, and that’s a worthy trade-off.
Momma worked in payroll at the Milan arsenal in the late ‘60s. The Vietnam war was still raging so her workweek was 6-7 days. That left daddy and I to can tomatoes. We had a juicer, too. No pressure cooker, but we heard the satisfying plink when the can sealed and never lost a jar. I canned green beans, tomatoes, and plum preserves into the early ‘80s. I finally realized I had too many more important things to do.
A lot of people worked in that Arsenal, me included. For me the summer of 68 between high school and college.
I am very impressed that your daddy was involved in the canning process. Seriously.
Both grandmothers canned. The maternal grandmother seemed to have have more to can as she lived in the country and had a large garden. I also remember the large peach tree very close to the back of the house and a pear tree a little further back. There were two beds and the quart mason jars were stored under these beds. This practice was not a hobby but a way of life.
I remember Grandma Perry’s garden, but I was never there when she was canning. I guess Grandma Gibson bought her tomatoes. Don’t know.
First you gather what is cannable. Then you wash and prepare it. Peeling takes a lot of time. Hours!! Sterilize the glass jars and be sure to seal them. Lucky not to lose a jar. Our summers were work if there was anything to can for winter.
I just remember that tomato soup was always better with home-canned tomatoes as a base.
Especially enjoyed Mary Lee’s comment saying they never lost a jar. Exceptional.
You’re right. That’s a lot of canning to accomplish without any lost jars.