IT WAS THE FALL of ’06 and I was busy. There was a crowd of locals and tourists encircling our booth at the Charleston Farmers Market, all vying for my attention. This Saturday ritual repeats itself weekly, until the rural fields surrounding the old city go fallow with winter’s chill. Off to my right, two men beckoned. I held up my index finger, as if to say “I’ll answer your question shortly.” Busy making suggestions, taking money, and bagging products, I answered the usual hum of questions. The press of the crowd continued. Finally, the patient men’s time came.
One asked. “Have you ever considered writing a book?”
I swallowed, and thought, maybe good fortune isn’t so elusive. I returned to reality and chuckled, “Boy this is your lucky day; it was just this morning I put the finishing touches on my second novel.”
The two men looked at each other and smiled. The taller one turned to me and spoke. “Sorry! Not that kind of book!”
“Do you make all these products?” the other inquired.
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I’ve been doing this for twelve years and I hope to keep doing it for another twelve. It’s not the money, believe me, it’s not the money. I do it for, for, well . . . ,” I looked over my left shoulder. There she was, just the kind of person I had hoped to see.
“See that woman over yonder, the one getting ready to sample the artichoke relish?” I pointed to the far left corner of our space. “Watch!” I said. My eye told me she was a tourist; few locals carry a map of our town with the accompanying guide. She spread cream cheese on a cracker and then some relish. Two chews later her mouth stopped. Her eyes rolled. Before she could swallow, she was turning to her husband. She jabbed her index finger, pointing at the bowl while grunting. Finally, she was able to exclaim, “Oh, my God, you have got to try this!”
I returned to my conversation with the two men who would soon become my editor and my publisher. “That is why I do what I do. For me, canning gives a real feeling of accomplishment. There is little in my life that gives me more satisfaction than the scene you just witnessed, played over and over, with a diverse and growing array of products. Many I have created. Some of the recipes are as old as the Republic itself. I make them all.”
“Back to our original question, would you be interested in writing a book on canning?”
