Beans, Book Review, Zepbound Update, And Best Of All- The Rolling Stones

 Well, the pressure canner made its appearance outside the pantry today, along with my canning funnel and jar lifters. Those are my tools. For pickling, I use my canning kettle because with their vinegar and salt, they do not require the extra heat the canner produces but are happily and safely processed in what we call a water bath. In some ways, I really prefer the pressure canner because it requires less water in it, making it less heavy to deal with, and because the jars and lids do not need sterilizing before using as they do with the canning kettle. 

I snapped all of the beans I had in the refrigerator and they added up to seven fine quarts, which is the exact capacity of the canner. That was quite pleasing. I did, however, learn a lesson today and I learned it by making a mistake which is about the best way to really learn something. 

I've been using a pressure cooker my entire cooking life. I even bought one when I was in college and that was one of the few things I brought with me when I left college in Denver to move to Tallahassee. That, and a rocking chair, and some parakeets. 
I still have the rocking chair. Oh, I still have a pressure cooker, it's just a different one.

Anyway, when you're using a pressure cooker, you can sort of cheat when it comes to releasing the pressure after you've finished cooking. You can do this by running water over the lid after taking it off the stove or slightly tipping the little weight thing that goes on top of the cooker so that it releases the steam that's built up inside. You aren't supposed to do this but my mother always did it and some woman who taught her to use a pressure cooker must have done it too. And thus, that has been my habit as well.
I'd never done that with the pressure canner though because I'm a relatively new learner about the device and my theory is that you should follow the rules until you have a true knowledge of how something works. But today I was feeling sort of like I knew what I was doing and after the little valve on the lid which pops up when there is pressure in the canner, had gone down, I sort of tilted the pressure weight thingie which was still hissing just a tiny bit and thought I'd let all the pressure release, or at least well enough, and then I opened the lid and let me tell you- not a good idea. Nothing blew up or anything like that but one of the jar lids sort of buckled and the liquid in all the jars was still just boiling away. 
"I'm sorry!" I said to my beans, and put that lid back on and secured it. 
Everything turned out all right although I am going to put the one jar whose lid seemed to take the brunt of it all in the refrigerator and use those first. 

You can see that jar on the far left. 

And that took me about all day long. Okay. Not really. About three hours though, and I'm a fast bean snapper. While I was working, I was listening to a very good book that I finished about the same time the beans went into the canner. 

The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride.

Dang he's a good writer. He went to the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism as well as Oberlin Conservatory of Music because of course he's a musician as well. 
Sigh. I bet he's a good one. 

I'm not even going to try and tell you what the book is about because it is a rather involved story but at its core it's about a community in Pennsylvania in the 1930's where Jewish immigrants and Black folks who have moved up north searching for a better life, live side-by-side in a rather run-down neighborhood. McBride's mother was Jewish, his father Black so I guess in a way, this book is what he's done with his own heritage. The first book I ever read by him was a memoir. The Color of Water. That one was specifically about his mother and I will always believe that title is the best title of a book ever. 

I loved this book and I'll probably either listen to it again or read it with my eyes. 

Or both. 

On to Zepbound, Day Two. 
Well, y'all, after doing a little research, I have discovered that many people who begin taking the drug feel the effects within hours. It's not just me. Today has been much like yesterday. I think of food because I've got a seventy-year habit of that but I don't crave, or even want the food I'm thinking of. My brain isn't constantly doing a review of what I know is in the refrigerator to figure out what I want to eat next. I know I have a lot to learn here. If I am eating a great deal less, I need to make sure that what I eat is nutritionally dense. This only makes sense. And many people seem to report that their tastes change on the drug. That steamed vegetables are more pleasing. That they don't crave cream in their coffee. That they don't even crave coffee the way they did. Now I don't know what's going to happen in my experience but I know that my appetite has been very easy to satisfy again today. I do feel hunger when it's been some time since I ate but a small amount of food is enough. I honestly do not want more. This can and probably will change. We shall see. 

But I will tell you this- just the fact that I feel like a "normal" person when it comes to the meaning and importance of food in my life for the first time ever seems like a miracle. 
I do not use that word lightly or with hyperbole. People for whom food is basically fuel have no understanding whatsoever how different it is for many of us who, all our lives have been told to "just eat less, exercise more!" which is every bit as helpful as telling a junkie to "just stop doing heroin!" 

And speaking of junkies whom I love (okay, well, whatever), today is Sunday and this morning I ran across this video and it seemed to me to be the perfect Sunday morning hymn for the Church of the Batshit Crazy.

Mick may be the preacher, but Keith is the...well... cherished saint of all of us who are who are not saints, nor will ever be. 
Plus, he looks damn good. 

Here's to the Rock and Roll gods who make us dance, make us sing, and take us to a different place with the music they make. And also, to the science behind a class of drugs which may change the face of medicine as we know it. 

Love...Ms. Moon