I stripped the serrano bushes of their fruit. Time to finish putting the garden to bed.
Now I had a large pan full of peppers. What to do? I decided to pickle them. I halved them, cut out the core, saving the seeds for the pickling agent. How sore my hands were becoming only became clear as the afternoon and evening wore on. Blistered, even.
I washed and rinsed the jars and put them to boil along with the lids and rings. I mixed the vinegar, salt and stuff and set it to cook. At about which time my daughter, Ann, arrived to visit. At about which time the pungent aroma in the house would quite literally bring tears to the eyes. Both wife and daughter feigned annoyance with me for having created such an environment.
I canned the fruit, poured the liquid over the fruit, capped and inverted the jars. Great result. They sealed. We all went out to supper at the local restaurant. Yes, you may have more than one restaurant in your bailiwick, but not everyone does.
We concluded the evening with a wonderful visit with Ann while I rubbed aloe into my hands, admired my kitchen handiwork once more, and retired for the night.