One afternoon, I decided I wanted some pictures of my kids jumping. Because the sun was shining and I was bored and I hadn’t played with my camera in a while and, well, just because.

Really, does there have to be a reason? I AM MOM (WITH A CAMERA)! HEAR ME CLICK!

We started out on the deck. Thataway, I could go down the steps and get a ground view of their airbornness.

They did pretty well, but I didn’t like the screen door backdrop.

Also, I wanted a picture of all four kids in a row and there just wasn’t room.

“Let’s go out to the barn,” I said.

“I don’t want to jump,” my younger daughter said.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Jumping makes me hot,” she argued. “And you just get to sit there in the shade. It’s not fair.”

I hate it when my kids get all logical on me.

“I’ll give you some candy,” I wheedled. (Note to parents: when you can’t win, use sugar.)

Sugar works!

It wasn’t all fun and games, though. Even with a piece of candy dangling in front of them (figuratively speaking—I didn’t actually hang the candy from the edge of the barn roof), they still got balky. Like the infamous animal that shan’t be named but that is related to a horse.

They refused to jump in sync, and they kept shifting their assigned positions so I couldn’t see everyone.

Or they’d start jumping and refuse to stop, even when I was calling out orders.

I have a newfound respect for the people who coach synchronized diving. Or, rather, anyone who coaches anything synchronized.

A fist fight happened, of course. Because fists are how certain people in our family express themselves. And then there were tears and threats of “there won’t be any candy if you don’t get back out there and jump.”

I told some of the kids to look sulky while I ordered one to jump ecstatically.

The one kid couldn’t make herself look mad to save her life.

But then she stuck her tongue out.

That helped.

(Forgive the differently processed photos. I started playing around and then I didn’t feel like taking the time to make everything uniform. Sorry.)

The youngest went on a few solo flights. I call this one “A Study In Right Angles.”

In the end, the youngest fell over with his tongue hanging out.

“I was pretending to be dead,” he told me proudly.

The end.

This same time, years previous: a family photo shoot from 2008 (no jumping, but there was a strangulation)

I’m a novice at ketchup-making, but all experts have to start somewhere, right?

This year I made three kinds. One was good but a little too vinegary. (Plus, my husband didn’t turn off the crockpot like I asked him to and it got very dark. I canned it to use in cooking. The other day I added some to my sloppy joe recipe and it enhanced the joes tremendously. So, yay!) Another wasn’t really a ketchup at all, since I put curry powder in it, but still, I call it a ketchup. And the last one was straight-up simple, about as close to Heinz as you can get.

First, the curry ketchup.

This ketchup is like something you might find at a high-end restaurant, the kind of place that messes with the basics in a pleasantly surprising way. I don’t want my basics messed with all the time, mind you, but a bit of different now and again is a good thing, I believe.

The original recipe hails from Germany and is called currywurst sauce. It’s supposed to be eaten a-top sausages. I’m sure that would be most scrumptious, but we have yet to try it that way.

So far we’ve eaten this ketchup with oven fries, zucchini fries, and spooned over green tomato curry like a chutney. I figured that would be a stellar combo since tomatoes and curry are star ingredients in each recipe, and I was right. (Also, I suspect this curry ketchup would go well with the golden curry, but I haven’t gotten around to trying it yet.)

Curry Ketchup
Adapted from Saveur.com

The recipe called for hot paprika. I didn’t have any, so I used smoked paprika and a couple pinches of chipotle powder instead.

2 tablespoons canola oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 tablespoons curry powder
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
1/8 teaspoon chipotle or cayenne powder
2 cups canned tomatoes, including the juice
½ cup sugar
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
salt to taste

Saute the onion in the oil until soft. Add the curry powder, smoked paprika, and chipotle powder and saute for another minute. Add the tomatoes, sugar, and vinegar. Cook over medium-low heat until reduced a bit, about 30 minutes. Blend until smooth, season with salt, and cook until it’s the desired consistency—thick, like ketchup.

Yield: about 1½ cups. Store in a jar in the refrigerator.

The problem with many homemade ketchups, so I’ve read, is that they taste great but aren’t anything like Heinz. While I might be thrilled with a creative homemade ketchup, I was
pretty sure my children wouldn’t settle for anything less than something that tasted just like the store-bought variety. So I set about scouring the web for a homemade ketchup that tasted like mass-produced stuff.

I finally found a recipe with reviews that claimed you could hardly tell the difference between the homemade and the storebought. The only problem was that the recipe called for corn syrup.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve been programmed to believe that corn syrup is from the devil. It’s poison in a jar. It will give you cancer and make your butt big and absolutely ruin your reputation as an authentic, thoughtful cook. Corn syrup is for losers. Period.

But! I wanted ketchup that tasted like Heinz even if it meant I was a fraud, so I pushed my biases aside and made the stuff.

Wouldn’t you know, it was delicious! It had the same shiny, smooth consistency as Heinz, and it tasted wonderfully sweet and tart. It was the real deal!

So then, of course, I had to research corn syrup. I (lightly) read some articles on the web (here’s one, and here’s another) and discussed it with my biologist Dad, and you know what? Corn syrup isn’t as demonic as I thought! It’s just a syrup from corn—bad for you like sugar, but that’s all.

And get this: high-fructose corn syrup isn’t even all that evil—it’s just intensified corn syrup! The problem with the high-fructose stuff is that it’s double the sweet which equals double the trouble. So, you know, watch out. (Or maybe I am off my rocker? Maybe corn syrup is sticky poison? Am I missing something?) (Also, if you know of a non-corn syrup ketchup that tastes just like Heinz, do tell.)

In any case, I’ve concluded that homemade ketchup-that-tastes-like-Heinz needs to have corn syrup. It’s necessary for the trademark satiny glow and velvety texture.

I’m even willing to put my culinary reputation on the line for the stuff.

Just-Like-Heinz Ketchup
Adapted from topsecreterecipes.com

I used my own canned roasted tomato sauce instead of the called-for tomato paste, so my ketchup had a bit more texture—random seeds and such—and the kids took issue. I ignored them, because they were being ridiculous, but then I relented and let them mix the homemade with the store-bought, half and half. I have high hopes that they’ll soon acclimate.

1 pint roasted tomato sauce or 1 6-ounce can tomato paste
½ cup light corn syrup
½ cup white vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon onion powder
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder

Combine all ingredients and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring frequently. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until thick, unlidded, about 30 minutes. Cool to room temperature and pour into an empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Store in the fridge.

Yield: 1½ cups

This same time, years previous: hot chocolate

I just read somewhere that September is the big month for preserving food. That might be true for me some years, but not this one. The garden finished up early, thanks to the weird weather, and I am done, done, done. Sure, I want to dry apples eventually (maybe), score some butternuts from a farmer, and perhaps order a bushel or two of broccoli (if we can empty out our freezers enough before then), but only if I feel like it. It’s not my priority.

Even so, that comment about September made me a little anxious. Should I be doing more? Am I missing something?

It’s true, I was a little more moderate in what I put up this year. For example, even though we still have oodles of tomatoes out in the garden, I stopped putting them up because it seemed like we had enough. And we do, I think (I think?), but I can’t help worrying that I should maybe do a little more. Just in case.

When I start getting Guilty Gardener Pangs, you know what I do? I soothe myself by chanting, There are grocery stores. You won’t starve. There are grocery stores. You won’t starve. It works pretty well.

And then, if there is any lingering guilt, I tell myself, “You always over-preserve anyway. You’d think you lived through the Great Depression in a former life or something. Geesh.”

So anyway, this month is shaping up to be pretty relaxed, garden-wise.

 A lazy September? What a novel idea!

I think I like it.

2012 Garden Stats and Notes

spinach, frozen: 12 10-ounce bags and 11 4-ounce bags
strawberries, frozen, sliced: 31 quarts
mint tea concentrate: 16 pints (and another batch that I didn’t count)
sour cherries, frozen: 3 quarts
blueberries, frozen: 37 pints
sweet pickle relish: 3 pints
sweet pickles: 17 quarts
pesto, frozen: 17 batches
green beans, Roma, frozen: 29 1½-quart bags
green beans, Tenderette, frozen: 57 1½-quart bags
applesauce, canned: 86 quarts
corn, frozen: 36 quarts and  12 pints
corn, roasted, frozen: 3 1½- pints
peaches, canned: 45 quarts
peaches, canned, roasted: 5 pints
peach jam, canned: 18 pints and 2 half-pints
red raspberries, frozen: 10 quarts and 1 pint (and counting)
zucchini relish, canned: 5 pints and 2 half-pints
tomatoes, roasted, frozen: 4 quarts
tomatoes, chunks, canned: 27 quarts and 2 pints
salsa, canned: 16 quarts
roasted garlic pizza sauce, canned: 23 pints and 6 half-pints
roasted tomato sauce, canned: 6 pints and 2 half-pints
ketchup: 7 half-pints
grape jelly, canned: 24 pints and 5 half-pints
grape juice, canned: 15 quarts
trumpet squash, frozen: 4 pints

Notes:
*Don’t bother planting spinach. It’s much more effective to buy it in bulk from the neighboring farm.
*The old strawberry patch is done. Plant a new one already. And you don’t really like the Sparkle strawberries that you planted last spring. They’re sweet, but have zero shelf life—they can hardly even make it into the house without going all mushy. Plus they’re taking over the asparagus.
*Next year, take the time to make some strawberry jam.
*You didn’t get blackberries this year because the dam got mowed. Make them a priority for next year, please.
*One huge row of cucumbers and another of red beets was a brilliant move. (Thanks, Dad!) Finally, you got your fill of cucumbers.
*About those red beets: don’t hesitate to harvest them for their greens and tender little babies. When it comes down to it, you don’t need many full-sized beets to make you happy.
*For the love of fresh corn, do not cook all the corn at once and then let it sit on the cob while you scramble to play catch-up! Because then your delicious sweet corn ends up tasting like cobby sweet corn. (The horrors.)
*For the first time ever, the zucchini didn’t keel over and die. Four plants provided enough zucchinis for a whole summer of eating without ever being overwhelming. It helped that they were picked small, too.
*Roasted garlic pizza sauce is divine.
*There were no nectarines or apricots. Do lots next year.
*Finally, enough green beans! And, thanks to the rain, they kept producing and producing and producing! Who knew green beans did that?
*Two bushels of potatoes is just about right. You’ll run out in a few months, but you don’t like them when they grow whiskers and get all wrinkly anyway.
*It would be nice to have some sweet potatoes. Try not to forget them next year.
*Mulching the garden with straw was very, very worth it. Hardly any weeds and no watering (though that was partly due to the dripping skies).

This same time, years previous: rainy day writing, NY trip, family pictures, how to clean a room, almond cream pear tart, blasted cake, fruit-on-the-bottom baked oatmeal, grilled salmon with lemon butter, oven-roasted shallots, drying pears