This has been an unbelievable year in terms of the crop. Had I known, I would have planted the Roma (plum) tomatoes you need for bulk in a salsa, but for the past several years I’d be loaded down with cherry and plum types, with that occasional precious Big Boy used instead for BLT’s, and no salsa. This year, I’ve gotten plenty of the big ones, but they’re too juicy by themselves to use alone.
I’ve got five gallons of crabapple wine in Stage II of the process, and ten gallons of grapes in the Stage I. I have a gallon of juice clarified and ready to make a couple dozen more jars of grape jelly but I ran out of jelly jars and need to go out and buy more tomorrow. Meanwhile, the kitchen smells yeasty and fruity and you can get high on the vapors alone.
But the dangers: The grapes are in full galloping fermentation and while I’ve been elbow deep in it popping the grapes to get that done quickly, it keeps threatening to overflow its container and I’m afraid that it just might tonight. At midnight. Seep over and out and spill over the floor in a big sticky mess. Just managed by good luck to avoid an explosion this afternoon. Skimmed the top pulp that separates itself from the crabapple wine, wrapped it in a plastic bag to discourage fruit flies until I get it outside in the garbage and lo and behold! The stuff was still busy fermenting, putting out gas and the bag was blown up and ready to burst. That would’ve been a mess I’d have had to walk away from. Hop in the car and just drive.
Narrowly averted disaster, a stroke of luck, a happenstance to notice it in time. So I’m still here. But the peaches are just beginning.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
All of those fermenting grapes flooding the house and creeping up the stairs at midnight while you sleep — kind of evokes a Stephen King-like scary image!