Canning

On September 1, 2003, WILLIAMPATRICK, beloved husband of Anne E. Canning (nee Rider), father of Maureen Hill and Christine Marie Hahas, step-father of Margaret, Edward and Paul Mullen and Mary Bush, brother of Margaret Mary Geckle, Pauline Eckenrode, Rita Brulinski, John Canning, Patricia Tracey and Angela Canning. Also survived by 14 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Mass of Christian Burial at Sacred Heart Church, Glyndon, Thursday 10 A.M. Interment in Dulaney Valley Memorial Gardens.

James McSherry Shriver Jr., a member of an old Carroll County family and a former canning company executive who lectured widely on agricultural history, died Monday after being injured in an automobile accident. He was 82. Mr. Shriver was driving south on Greenspring Avenue near Lindemann Lane in a 2000 Oldsmobile Alero when he swerved, hitting a mailbox and then striking another vehicle. He was taken to Sinai Hospital, where he was pronounced dead. The accident remains under investigation, a Baltimore County police spokeswoman said.

On Friday, January 6, 2006, MRS. DOROTHY ANN (nee Ford) CANNING, wife of the late Thomas L. Canning, mother of Nancy La Fon and Thomas Canning, mother-in-law of Laurie Canning, grandmother of Zachary, Cory, Adam, Mark and Philip, great grandmother of Nathan, sister of Gerald Ford. Friends may call at the LOUDON PARK FUNERAL HOME, 3620 Wilkens Avenue, on Monday, January 9, from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 P.M. Funeral services will be held 11 A.M., Tuesday, January 10 at the funeral home. Interment Loudon Park Cemetery.

Marie K. Razulis, a retired chemist, died of heart disease April 10 at Carroll Hospice's Dove House in Westminster. She was 89 and lived in the Fairhaven Retirement Community. Born Marie Kuulei Goo-On in Washington, D.C., she was the daughter of parents who lived in Hawaii. Her ancestry was Chinese, Hawaiian and Portuguese. Her father took a job in Washington as a government translator and she spent her childhood in Falls Church, Va. As a child, she demonstrated artistic talent and played the piano.

James McSherry Shriver Jr., a member of an old Carroll County family and a former canning company executive who lectured widely on agricultural history, died Monday after being injured in an automobile accident. He was 82. Mr. Shriver was driving south on Greenspring Avenue near Lindemann Lane in a 2000 Oldsmobile Alero when he swerved, hitting a mailbox and then striking another vehicle. He was taken to Sinai Hospital, where he was pronounced dead. The accident remains under investigation, a Baltimore County police spokeswoman said.

Mary Clyde Streett, who helped operate a once-thriving Harford County tomato cannery, died of dementia Dec. 26 at the Bel Air Convalescent Center. She was 98. Born Mary Clyde Spencer in Forest Hill, she worked alongside her father in his canning operation in Frogtown, between Bel Air and Forest Hill. Their Spenceola Farm was once a well-known tomato-canning hub. Before graduating from Bel Air High School in 1929, she rode to classes in a horse-drawn buggy. "Her yearbook called her the 'bright light' of the class," said her son, Dr. Richard P. Streett Jr. of Churchville.

BALTIMORE USED TO BE THE KIND of town where gin mills had free bowls of steamed crabs on the bar to keep up their patrons' thirst for beer.The deep-water port on the Patapsco was once a city where seamen just in from South America walked off of ships carrying parrots and monkeys to give away to friends and family as pets.And some 88 years ago, Baltimore was the kind of place where Mike Manning's grandmother could start a food-canning business in the back yard of her Canton row house at 2425 Foster Ave."

Why can? Y2K, for one. Perhaps you believe the predictions that the new year will bring widespread chaos, with the Y2K computer glitch causing electrical failures and kitchen appliances and ATMs to shut down. You want to be sure you have your own food supply.Perhaps you plan to take your cue from computers, which, at the turn of the calendar to 1-1-00, may not know whether it's 2000 or 1900. You decide you would rather revisit the past than face the uncertainties of the future."Close your eyes and let yourself be transported to a Victorian house, its garden sprawling with vines and bushes from which the bounty will be reaped," write Barry Bluestein and Kevin Morrissey in "Home Made in the Kitchen" (Viking Penguin, 1995)

Now is the prime time for Howard County gardeners to enjoy the fruits and vegetables of their labors. Harvesting, even from a garden of three or four tomato plants, is rewarding.But most of us can't eatfast enough to keep up with the onslaught, and we rue the spring daywhen we tucked in those extra tomato plants or row of beans.But, it's more than the satisfaction that comes with success, or the extra good food that winds up on our tables and in our freezers and pantries. It's a feeling of participating in a recurring rite of human existence, a sense of community with all who preceded us.Harvesting and preserving our food gives us some feeling of control overour own lives in an era when such occasions are rare.

Pickling is so hot it's cool.Once a necessity to feed a family through the winter, pickling -- using vinegar or lemon juice to "cook" or preserve food and inhibit bacterial growth -- has become a nostalgic hobby for people who see it as a reminder of simpler times and an outlet for culinary creativity. Even chefs have embraced pickling to add pungent flavors to their trademark dishes."People are literally begging for a good homemade pickle, a bread and butter pickle, a sweet pickle, a sour pickle.

Mary Clyde Streett, who helped operate a once-thriving Harford County tomato cannery, died of dementia Dec. 26 at the Bel Air Convalescent Center. She was 98. Born Mary Clyde Spencer in Forest Hill, she worked alongside her father in his canning operation in Frogtown, between Bel Air and Forest Hill. Their Spenceola Farm was once a well-known tomato-canning hub. Before graduating from Bel Air High School in 1929, she rode to classes in a horse-drawn buggy.

Mary Clyde Streett, who helped operate a once-thriving Harford County tomato cannery, died of dementia Dec. 26 at the Bel Air Convalescent Center. She was 98. Born Mary Clyde Spencer in Forest Hill, she worked alongside her father in his canning operation in Frogtown, between Bel Air and Forest Hill. Their Spenceola Farm was once a well-known tomato-canning hub. Before graduating from Bel Air High School in 1929, she rode to classes in a horse-drawn buggy. "Her yearbook called her the 'bright light' of the class," said her son, Dr. Richard P. Streett Jr. of Churchville.

Our grandmothers punctuated the summer by capturing the flavor of that month's bounty - strawberries, peaches, beans or tomatoes - in gleaming glass jars with coppery lids and seals. They called it "putting up" or "putting by" and the basement pantry shelves would be lined with the color of fresh fruits and vegetables, to be opened and served in gray winter months. Home canning may have skipped a generation as working wives and mothers found the process too time-consuming. But it has found a resurgence not only as a result of difficult economic times, but as the next step in a new determination to eat fresh and eat local.

John Joseph Canning Sr., a retired Air Force lieutenant colonel and pilot, died Thursday of cancer at North Arundel Health and Rehabilitation Center in Glen Burnie. The Odenton resident was 77. Born in Midland, Allegany County, he was a graduate of Calvert Hall College High School, attended Loyola College and graduated from the U.S. Air Force Academy. He served in the Air Force during the Korean and Vietnam wars, retiring in 1971 after 22 years of active duty. He also served for five years in the Air Force Reserve.

On his one day off from his 20-date tour in the United States, Canadian indie rocker Brendan Canning chills in his hotel room in Pensacola, Fla., relishing TV shows he hadn't seen since childhood. Now, the Broken Social Scene co-founder is watching The Jeffersons on Nick at Night. "I grew up with this," he says over the phone. "I don't get to see shows like this anymore." These days, Canning doesn't get to do much outside of making music with his sprawling band, which includes 15 members plus two or three other musician friends, depending on availability.

I never gave much of a thought as to why we had stewed tomatoes on the dinner table a couple of nights a week. It was just a part of Baltimore. And not only at my family's house on Guilford Avenue. They were regularly served at the Maryland Club. And only a few weeks ago, I enjoyed some of the best at a luncheon preceding the Grand National steeplechase race. Stewed tomatoes? Basic food, terribly out of style today, but so evocative of the cuisine that has been vanishing from Maryland since the chefs all got their culinary arts degrees.

On his one day off from his 20-date tour in the United States, Canadian indie rocker Brendan Canning chills in his hotel room in Pensacola, Fla., relishing TV shows he hadn't seen since childhood. Now, the Broken Social Scene co-founder is watching The Jeffersons on Nick at Night. "I grew up with this," he says over the phone. "I don't get to see shows like this anymore." These days, Canning doesn't get to do much outside of making music with his sprawling band, which includes 15 members plus two or three other musician friends, depending on availability.