Preserving

Liquid Gold: The Tomato Water I Couldn't Let Go

Two jars of golden-orange tomato water on a butcher block counter

Let me tell you about the thing I almost poured down the drain.

I pulled four gallon bags of tomatoes from my garden out of the freezer to thaw. As they thawed, they left something behind: a pool of golden, amber-orange liquid. Freezing breaks down the tomatoes' cell walls, so when they thaw, the watery part slips away from the pulp. It's called tomato water, it's loaded with tomato flavor, and I looked at it and thought: absolutely not. I am not pouring liquid gold down the sink.

So I went hunting for jars. Here are the first two, mostly filled, one a deep orange, the other more golden, with a little red sediment settling at the bottom like it has something to say. A little citric acid went into the tomato water, then a trip through the water bath canner, and now it lives on the shelf, labeled and ready.

A rebel canner confession: eagle eyes will notice that my liquid gold is in reused store-bought juice bottles, original caps and all. That’s me being a rebel in my own kitchen, and I’m not recommending it. Commercial bottles and their one-piece caps are made for a single trip through the factory, not your canner. The glass can crack, and those old caps may not seal reliably. If you’re canning juice, use real canning jars and new two-piece lids. Your kitchen, your rules, but you didn’t learn it from me.

What's tomato water for? Soups and stews, where it adds tomato flavor without turning everything thick and red. Rice, cooked in it instead of plain water, for a shortcut to something that tastes like you tried much harder than you did. I'll find more uses. I always do.

Meanwhile, the tomatoes themselves pulled their weight: four gallon bags turned into seven quarts of pasta sauce, plus all this liquid gold. Nothing wasted, everything working, which is the part of homesteading I'm secretly proudest of. (Looking for a sauce recipe? My Get-er-Done spaghetti sauce is right here.)

Everything is labeled, because I've learned I will not remember which liquid is which. In January, I'll open a jar and it'll taste like August.

Labeled jars of tomato water and cranberry juice lined up on a cutting board

If you'd like to can tomato juice yourself, NCHFP has a tested process, with added acid and times that depend on your jar size and elevation, at nchfp.uga.edu. That's where I'd send you.

— Granny

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