Tomato weekend

I'm trying to get over feeling guilty about not canning this year. Can you help?

I planted an orchard. I hung paintings. I overhauled a flower garden. I did not can.

(Okay, I did make three quarts of three bean salad and nine pints of bread and butter pickles. But I did  not can tomatoes. Or jam. Can we still be friends?)

I froze a lot of stuff this weekend. I pulled up my six basil plants (which were, at this point, more like shrubbery), and made a ton of pesto. I roasted a big box of red bell peppers. And I made tomato soup, tomato puree, tomato paste, and two different kinds of tomato sauce.

I'm such a junkie for the sights, sounds, scents, and sensations of food preservation. A couple of times I had to walk to the garden for fresh herbs, or carrots (for the soup!), and opening the door on my warm, steamy, fragrant kitchen was heavenly. Just like coming into mom's kitchen after a chilly afternoon of playing outside, only so much better. Because now it's my kitchen, and nothing smells better than bubbling tomato sauce.

Nothing.

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