My grandmother knew no other way. She fed a family during the Great Depression and World War II. Food that came out of the ground went into jars. It was food for the winter, supper when times were tight.

        When she died more than 20 years ago, home canning was already going out of style. After they laid my granny to rest, they buried dozens of jars of her vegetable soup — chunks of scarlet tomatoes flecked with yellow corn, green okra and pale butter beans — in a big hole in the sandy soil. The lids had rusted fast to the sealing rings on the old jars, and the soup was well past its prime. All those years, my grandmother kept canning vegetables, even though there were no mouths to feed. She just couldn't stop herself.

Foolish grandson

        Today, home canning is making a modest comeback, probably because there's a growing interest in vegetable gardening and cooking. Depending on the produce, though, freezing can be the best preservation method, holding in more nutrients and flavor. It's certainly easier, and what fool wouldn't prefer sticking their head in a freezer to standing over a scalding water bath on a hot day?

        Well, I am my grandmother's foolish grandson. We barely have enough room in our freezer to wedge in two pints of Graeter's. So for more than a month now, I've been canning on weekends. The gardener in the family has outdone herself this year, despite the cruel, dry weather. (We just received an outrageous water bill to prove it.)

        I have canned tomato sauce, salsa, tomatillo sauce, roasted red pepper sauce, oven-dried tomatoes in olive oil — just about everything but vegetable soup with okra — probably because I have an okra-avoidance issue. Usually, I never put up sweets, but I even canned a couple pints of raspberry jam in June. That seems so long ago.

Why canners can

        I knew I was in trouble when I went out and bought a tall metal shelf to store our surplus canned goods in the basement.

        It's difficult for a canner to explain to a non-canner why we do it: why I'll stand on my feet for hours; why I'll crank tomatoes and onions through a food mill; why I'll blister my fingers on hot metal jar lids.

        Maybe there's a little survivalist in me. I can sleep better knowing that, if Indiana invades Ohio or if the stock market finally scrapes bottom, I'll have tomato sauce in the basement ready to eat.

        Maybe it's because I take great pride in handing someone a jar and saying: We grew this. (And I can tell you it's not quite the same when you hand them a frozen slab of tomatoes.)

        I do know there are few things more satisfying than hearing the chorus of lid clinks, as the jars cool out of their hot water bath.

        I just hope that when they lay me to rest, someone will help themselves to the shelves in my basement.

        Please, please don't bury my tomato sauce.

Recipes

        I've been canning this tomato sauce, adapted from Flavors of Tuscany (Broadway; $37.95), for several years. The secret, I've learned, is cooking the sauce down until it's thick without scorching the tomatoes. Use a heavy, thick-bottomed pot and stir often.

        There are plenty of books on home canning, but the bible as far as I'm concerned is still the Ball Blue Book, which costs about $4.95 and is available at many hardware stores, at www.homecanning.com or by calling (800) 392-2575.

Tuscan Tomato Sauce

        5 pounds ripe, red tomatoes
       2 cloves garlic, chopped
       2 medium yellow onions, chopped
       1 rib celery, chopped
       1 medium carrot, chopped
       About 1 tablespoon each: Salt, black pepper
       About 1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (or to taste)
       1 small bunch each: fresh sage, parsley
       Leaves from 1 sprig fresh rosemary
       1 bay leaf
        1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
       4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 1/2 lemons)

        Wash tomatoes, core and cut away any soft spots or bruises. Cut tomatoes into chunks and add to heavy pot or saucepan large enough to hold all ingredients. Add remaining chopped vegetables, salt, pepper, red pepper, herbs and olive oil. Set pot over medium heat, and when tomato juices began to boil, cover and boil 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

        Reduce heat to low and simmer slowly, covered, for another 15 to 20 minutes until tomatoes are soft and juicy. Raise the heat to medium-high, remove the cover and cook rapidly to reduce contents to thick paste. Stir often to prevent scorching.

        Remove tomatoes from heat to cool a few minutes. Remove bay leaf and put tomatoes and vegetables through large disk of a food mill. (This should remove most of tomato seeds and skins.) Return tomato sauce to gentle simmer and taste, adding more salt, pepper and pinch of sugar if necessary. Keep sauce at slow simmer.

        To preserve sauce, sterilize clean pint jars and lids for 20 minutes in boiling water. Remove jars from hot water bath and add 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice to each pint jar. Ladle hot tomato sauce into jars, leaving 1/4-inch head space. Cap jars with sterilized metal lids and rings and screw on tightly.

        Immediately place jars in hot water bath. After water returns to boil, process pints of tomato sauce 35 minutes. Remove jars from water and allow to cool. Label and store sauce in cool, dark place. Serve within a year. Makes 3 to 4 pints.

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