My grandma canned.
My mom canned, when I was young.
My sister cans.
I don't can... unless you count freezer jam... but I don't.
Amber has an awesome back yard filled with nature's bounty. She and Tawnya made grape juice and grape jelly last year. This year, the birds thought Amber's grapes were yummy.
Amber called me worried that the birds would eat them ALL. She talked me into, sweet-talking my mom into, sweet-talking my grandma into, lending me some canning jars and her grape juicer.
We rescued a shallow bucket-full of grapes.
We washed. We smooshed. Then we put the grapes into the juicer, boiler thingy.
As the water boiled, the steam rendered the juice out of the grapes. We then released the clip on the tubing and fresh grape juice flowed into the hot, sanitized jars. We didn't strain the juice at first, but decided it was a good idea, when we noticed a few chunks.
Then we put the lids and rings on and turned them upside-down to seal.VOILA!
Grape juice.
Thanks to Amber I can now say, I didn't can.
