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A Jarring Revelation

Some friends came from the South to visit one July and brought a bushel of fresh peaches. They were so big and juicy that I decided to make my favorite fruit cobbler.

I made the dough just like my mother taught me, then peeled the delicious peaches. The aroma from that wonderful cobbler filled the house as it baked. And when I took it from the oven, it was picture-perfect.

My husband couldn't wait to try it. But as he took his first bite of the cobbler, he made a face.

"What did you do?" he asked. I took a bite and knew immediately. I store my food staples in unmarked glass jars and had never had a problem identifying what's in the jars. But this time, when I reached for tapioca, I got coarse salt instead. For my husband's sake, I now label all the jars. —Rita Reifenstein, Evans City, Pennsylvania