Green Tomato Pickles

The days seem to slide off, one by one, in a rapid sequence like a string of pearls breaking and scattering on the floor.  Where did the summer go?  Where is August?  Where is July?  It’s almost time to bid farewell to September, and I’m just not ready for it.  I think when you have things that you have to plan for, like a wedding or school, the days become more streamlined and fall away even faster.

The days went too fast for my tomatoes to keep up, too.  They were planted in late May, but I had hoped with lots of plant food they’d make it to the end of summer.  Well, with the equinox, the nights became too cool and moist for ripening tomatoes to finish turning red or gold or orange (I had four different kinds this year).  So I went out yesterday and gathered up all the big green ones and a few with blushes of color.  The coloring tomatoes went on my kitchen shelf to finish what they were doing.  The green ones I made into green tomato pickles. 

When life gives you green tomatoes, make green tomato pickles!

            I love pickles.  They are part science project, part housework, and just a little bit magical.  With the vinegar bubbling and the cheesecloth of spices simmering in the liquid, the process feels like witchcraft with its cauldrons and its potions.  The smell of the spices was warm and salty and made my mouth water.  I had to go to the store to pick up extra ingredients.  The recipe I used came from an old Ball Jar magazine.  It called for spicy peppers to be added to the tomatoes as well as pearl onions and garlic cloves.  I put in some fresh bay leaves for good measure, but not too much, I didn't want to overwhelm the flavor with the astringent taste of a bay leaf.  I substituted most of the spicy peppers with some sweet peppers in bright colors.  Even so, my hands were burning with the vinegar and hot pepper juices clinging to my skin.  It was a small price to pay for eight quart jars of autumn magic. 

            One of the best parts of the whole process was getting to break in my new apron.  Joseph bought it for me from Ikea on our last visit.  It has handy pockets and some pretty flowers on it.  When I was little, I always admired the aprons in Grandma Alice’s kitchen and elsewhere, but could never play with them satisfactorily.  Well, now I have a small apron collection that more than makes up for it.  And yes, I might look a little funny in them, but that is part of the fun.  

I may need to bust out the iron!

eight quarts of autumn magic