2013 Perth Royal Show

     It's that time of year.  The Perth Royal Show is on (or, the state of Western Australia's State Fair) and in full swing. A city slicker from birth, I really like attending these agricultural shows. I'm not much on the rides, games or carny hokum but I don't begrudge those who enjoy these aspects along with the endless retail opportunities.  I like the animals, the artsy craftsy stuff,  the educational displays, free food samples, free entertainment and cookery competitions.

     The Show has promised one million dollars worth of entertainment this year. Probably didn't spend it all on the police bagpipe band although I did enjoy their performance. A new entertainer this year is the Ozrocketman.  Tired of just viewing that jet pack James Bond wore in Thunderball, our guy built his own (said to be the only jet pack in Australia and at a cost of $1000 per flight) and zooms around over the audience and showgrounds on a regular schedule.  Not quite a concert but it sure does fuel fantasy in the beholders. Being introduced to Australians here at the Show is Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  I have to admit to getting excited about the familiar, even if I don't actually like the product.  And Krispy Kreme doughnuts are not my favorite, but I think to myself "why not, home has come to you!"  The huge line at the K2 trailer waiting for deep friend delights and collectable trinkets went a long way to reminding me that I really don't have to eat hip-expanding doughnuts just because they are here.

     My fans ( hi, Mom ) are doubtless wondering how I did in the cookery competitions.  I had three entries: a brandied marmalade [using citrus "liberated" from the trees outside the Supreme Court building] that my tasting board said was a sure fire winner, and two Pantry Shelf -six sample items constituting a single entry- collections of which one represented an afternoon tea (Jam, Marmalade, Fruit Spread, Orange Butter, Apple Butter and Brandied Prunes)  the other represented a light supper (Pickled Onions,  Red German Cabbage, Pickled Beets, Root Vegetable shapes, Colored Sweet Peppers [these last two mildly vinegared] and Anchovy Paste).    It was the afternoon tea Pantry Shelf that won the ribbon.  I hadn't given it much hope. Too much of the contents are simply foreign to Australian taste buds. The fruit spread I called OPAL --a very Aussie gem used in acronym for orange/pineapple/apricot/lemon, not all of which is ripe at the same time so some allowances had to be made. No one has heard of apple butter and orange butter was sure to be confused with the translucent smooth yellow spread everyone eats called lemon butter.  This is why I called my orange butter (made with OJ , rind, honey and real butter)  Beurre L'Orange.  The French judge caught on right away.  

     There was a bit of controversy amongst the group of hanging around the French judge who had made herself available for general questions about preserving and competition.  Many people (including the judge) seal their jams by turning the jar upside down for a few minutes after filling.  All of my books say this old practice is a big no-no.  Juices could compromise the seal and welcome mold by the upside down method so everything needs a hot water bath for a complete vacuum seal.  The judge insisted that hot jars, hot lids and hot contents would do the trick just fine. Why boil water for one more step? One lady said she had never heard of a hot water bath.  OK, I come from a different planet.
 
     But, I still have a red ribbon and more ideas for next year.
   

Ribbons

I am an addict.

I have aspired to this state since I was about nine years old. On the outside, looking in. Eyes mesmerized by bright lights reflected off glass, wanting what others had. Plotting, planning, scheming how I, too, could come to glory.

Shelf after shelf loaded with bottled beauties. Tables of creations which able and amateur hands had made. Some worthy, some unworthy of the accolade draped upon them. Accolades that could be, would be, mine. Ribbons, of course. Prize ribbons at the State Fair are what we are talking about. And the first one sets a person on the path of obsession, nay, addiction to wanting more.

I had many nonstarters. First with my favorite bread to make called Sally Lunn-baked in a bundt pan. But the entry deadlines are months before the fair and I didn't develop a fever for it all until too late. The DT's hit during the fair itself, when sadly nothing could be done. A successful victor knows patience and when to strike. [This also describes terrorists, but we aren't going there.] My last year in Ohio saw my perfect opportunity to achieve goal. I was canning peaches when I had a vision. A dozen or so of the peaches were of equally small dimension. They twinkled. They winked. They waited without complaint while I carefully peeled and placed their worthy fruit into a mason jar. They held their shape and heads high when the blue Christmas ribbon I placed on the lid was replaced with a first place ribbon by the judges. They had delivered my dream.

But what to do in Perth? The Royal Show had different rules and the preservation method itself was different. I checked out the competition on my first Show here. Ha! This wouldn't be just a ribbon, this was going to be ownership of the competition. The fever never left. I measured peaches at the grower's market so they would fit my jars perfectly. OK, they gave me a funny look when they spotted this until they heard about my plan. I was then escorted to the nonpublic sorting room to have my pick of the harvest. I also carefully selected tomatoes for judge-blinding shape and size. My pickled pepper relish looked like heavenly confetti. Ammunition ready, I reached for the application.

Problem. The rules seem to indicate that every entry must have a twist-off lid to allow the judges to taste the contents. All well and good for jams & chutneys, but one never opens vegetables without using or refrigerating afterwards. I called the Chief Steward who agreed that was an issue and said to enter my canning jars as they were. Indeed.

But, in fact, my tomatoes were not rule-compliant. They were not pickled. The judges could/would not taste them...and I would not have expected them to. But who uses pickled tomatoes in their spaghetti sauce? Who pickles tomatoes? This requirement may be the entire reason that only three entries were turned in for the vegetable class. The other two were bread & butter pickles and a jar of pickled mini peppers. My red beauties were destined to be fourth in a three horse race.

My tomatoes won a red ribbon--second prize--untasted. Gosh, how bad were those peppers? You might notice that re-using commercial jars is perfectly OK here at the Royal Show. An absolute no-no at State Fairs back home.

I happened upon the Chief Steward during my day at the Show. She had the grace to look repentant. She realized about an hour after talking with me on the phone that she had given the wrong advice and had no way of correcting the information.

One can't function without a few extra fixes during the year. So during the off season, I enter a few creative contests-either ideas or writing- to scratch the itch. When one pays off, you'll be the first to know.

Fowler-Vacola

Being a long-time food preserver and Ohio State Fair blue ribbon winner, I was eager to start canning here in WA. As it was impractical to ship my complete kit, I planned on picking up a used set here right away and immediately start taking advantage of the long growing season. Canning is cheap therapy for this gal.

Easier said than done. After months of searching every possible corner of the city, I managed to score a set that is nearly 50 years old, 31 bottles, not all the accoutrement and considered myself lucky. Ancient, peeling paint and all evidence of having been well used, the Fowler Sterilizer is certainly not the Mason system. A holed platform is hinged at the bottom. Round jars, rubber gasket at the neck, and full lid clamped on top, are put into the pot, cold water is poured up to 3/4 the height of the jars. The water is supposed to take one hour to get to the desired temperature--which may be anywhere from 150 to 200F. And then kept at that 170F for two and a half hours or however long the directions require for the particular produce being preserved. Newer versions are electric; put in jars, water, plug in, set the thermometer and you're finished. No one was selling one of those for $30.

Second issue was the produce. U-Pick places are almost nonexistent. Double drats. Picking is part of the therapy for me. So I get my produce from farmers markets. Blue ribbons in mind, I measure the width of the peaches, sort the tomatoes by size (all to odd looks from the proprietors.) It's difficult to manage the sub-boiling temp on an electric stove. The peaches, shy of perfect, was my first attempt, also not perfect. Better luck with my tomatoes...a possible ribbon winner in the batch.

The pictures are a bit off. My Hannah Montana cam has a 'viewfinder' but not a captured image screen. I have no idea of the exact picture taken until I upload it into my camera. But still you can see the sun shining off the stainless steel lids atop the Vacola jars, the whole tomatoes in the left jar (my potential winner) and the old pot on our easy-bake-oven sized stove. I have a meat thermometer in the side water well.

The jars are stored in the cupboard under the stairs. I've put the kit up in the spare room but it is a very short distance to retrieve should another canning opportunity present itself.