jarred

autumn sweeps in inconspicuously, with restrained fanfare. blink and you may miss the tawny oranges, fiery magentas and mellow golds – a rather awesome and comforting exodus. throughout my life, this time has always been marked by the annual collecting drying and sorting of beans, herbs and grapes. yet, the most significant of all these harvests is that of the tomato. each september, family members gather to make jars upon jars of sauce that will serve as many meals throughout the seasons to come. it is a harried, chaotic time when hands, faces and smiles are covered in a sea of red. while years of practice has made the process efficient, there is always room for giddy foolishness (squishing boiled tomatoes has always been a favourite diversion). after a lengthy process of ripening, boiling, straining, ladling, tightening, sealing and cooling, nothing quite compares to the sight of rows upon rows of crimson jars that line the cellar shelves – fall’s greatest inauguration.