You know those “I’ve got to dash to the store and grab one or two urgent items…” evenings? Well, I had one of those on Friday.

Friday, after I picked juicy, plump, and intentionally ripe-enough-to-rot peaches for jamming that same night. Something about ‘from the tree to the bottle in 24 hours’ felt very stealth…like capturing the summer sun’s sweetness in a jar for the winter ahead. Not mentioning, of course, the 5 cups of sugar that goes into each batch of peach jam… for 6 cups of peaches. Mmmmm. Now there’s some sweetness.

Which brings me to one of the items I needed on my dash: sugar. That, and mason jars, and pectin, and chalk, paper towels, and cotton balls, the last three totally unrelated to the jamming. So, where do you head for that random assortment of items at, say, 9:30 pm on a Friday night? Target, of course! Ahem…unless you are me, and the Target lies ten minutes farther down the road than the unmentionable, ghetto, totally boycotted-except-in-desperate-times-like-now: Walmart.

A little shiver ran down my arms as I realized that I was definitely going to Walmart instead of Target. I have been on very bad terms with Walmart since…well, since everyone else has. Something about child labor in China and underpaid, though-still-cheerfully-greeting employees. Right? Or was it Big Box smashing Ma and Pop? Whatever the reason, and I’m sure there are a few that I do would agree whole heartedly with if I became more informed, I don’t like the store. And don’t shop there…almost.But seriously, I’ll be in and out with a grab bag of last-minute, random, unable to purchase at the Farmer’s Market or Trader Joe’s things, then home to can, can away.

The sugar was easy enough to locate, despite the shuffle of people in the store. Next, I asked a blue-clad employee where I might find pectin. “Pectin?” “Yeah, like the powder stuff you use for canning?” “Pectin?” “Um, yep…do you have that?” “Ahhh…Pectin, for canning…yes…follow me.” Which I do, winding through housewares and back-to-school, and he drops me off at an almost empty aisle, two boxes of sure-jell on the bottom shelf, and a few random Ball Mason canning accouterments strewn on the others. I push the vision of what I’m sure is Target’s cleanly organized and well-stocked canning display out of my head, and go about looking for what I need to get the job done. Pectin, check. Mason Jars, I’ll go with the “quilted” variety, check. Hmm…this canning starter pack looks convenient, and I remember how hot that sugary boil got when I helped my dad a few years back, check.

Now, I think I’ve covered the canning supplies. Until I wander one aisle over and spot some huge stock pots. I don’t have a stock pot. Just a 4 qt sauce pan that I use for everything. And a relatively new 7 qt dutch oven that I use for everything else. I’ve had my eye on this stock pot for a while, but just haven’t rounded up the money, or the urgency. So, it was with distracted interest that I surveyed the stock pot scene on aisle 14. Hmmm. Maybe useful, but definitely not worth the $19.99…I mean…that is obviously not even 3-ply stainless steel (yeah, I’m a bit of a cookware snob after two holiday seasons at Williams-Sonoma:) I firmly decided to make-do with what I had. And I walked away.

Only… at the other end of the aisle there she was. A teal and turquoise speckled beauty that tugged at my vintage-loving heart-strings and strummed along with the peach-picking-on-the-farm country melody in my head. I was in love. Dumbstruck. I am actually very good with decisions, sticking to our student budget, and de-cluttering, rather than collecting. Once in a great while, though, I become emotionally attached. And when I do, I buy and never regret it. There, standing in the most unlikely of places, all clear-headed, budget-minded, eye-on-the-eventual-prize rationality wafted up into the huge carbon footprint ventilation system, and I was sold.

At $34.00 she was a find! Enamel on steel has good heat-retention and fantastic durability. And the color? One of my all time go-to favorites. Leave aside the jars of jam that will be bathed in her, it is simply dreamy to imagine putting spaghetti in to boil without having to watch that the strands hanging over the edge don’t burn. And how much easier will steaming tamales be when they can sit inside of the pot, rather than sticking out with a wet cloth over the top? Sigh.Paula Deen did a great job with this one…more than I can say for this recipe. But, I think I love her now, too! At least enough to visit her restaurant in South Carolina next week and hopefully see her to say “thank you” for the speckle.

And, with that the decision was made, the pot was in the cart, and I was on my way to the cotton balls, smiling as I went. I fell hard in Walmart. Turns out love has no boundaries.

As for the jam? Turned out perfectly. I could fit a whole batch of jars into the stock pot boil bath at once, therefore validating my purchase as not only a beautiful and meaningful addition to my kitchen (we’re talking heirloom folks) but also as a tool for food storage and self-sufficiency. What a great buy! As for the slight deviance from this month’s budget? I forewent the paper towels (mainly because I only like these, and Walmart didn’t have them-shock!)… okay, so that doesn’t totally cover it, but it helps. Right?