The July Can Jam stumped me. It wasn’t so much the trans-Atlantic translation problem of “marrows” as the fact that my favorite pickle, a just barely tangy half sour, isn’t acidic enough to can. Then I found a jar of cornichons in my basement (Linda Zeidrich’s recipe, of course). I’m usually fairly diligent about labeling my jars, but this time, I apparently forgot, and I frankly have no idea how long it’s been there. My best guess? 2007. Please don’t tell the USDA. I opened it anyway, and let me tell you: those pickles were DIVINE. Having been stewing in vinegar and spices—no sugar—for at least two years, those things were so tart that I believe they may have stripped some enamel off my teeth. Tart, but delicious.
So, that did it. This year, I have decided, will be the year of vinegar pickles. Sure, I’ve got a quart or two of half sours in various stages of fermentation floating around my kitchen, but I’m hoping to can at least half a dozen pints of pure pucker pickles for my winter enjoyment. This is a mixed batch of random vegetables, including the obligatory cucumbers and zucchinis, but the recipe is fairly flexible. You could certainly add cauliflower, beans, celery, asparagus…you get the idea. Ziedrich recommends a 20-minute water-bath processing time for a version that includes mostly easily pickled things (cucumbers, peppers, onions) plus just a few carrots. If you’re planning on using lots of carrots, you’ll probably need to increase the time, but not necessarily by much. Remember, even the sturdy pickled beet only need 30 minutes. In any case, I’m not a carrot-canning expert, so change the vegetable proportions at your own risk. Please, please, please do not change the ratio of water to vinegar, but feel free to add sugar to taste.
Stuff the following things in a pint jar, in more or less the amount recommended:
3 kirby-size cucumbers
About half of a 5″ zucchini or yellow squash, cut into spears
One medium garden carrot, cut into thin spears
2 hot wax peppers, slit down the side
4 jar-length pieces of fennel, with feathers attached
1 clove garlic
1/4 t. peppercorns
1 sprig thyme
1 sprig tarragon
Combine 2 3/4 c. vinegar (I used cider vinegar) with 2 c. water and 1 1/2 T. kosher salt. Bring to a boil. Pour this over your vegetables. You’ll have canning liquid leftover—just stash it in the fridge until the next time you’re ready to assemble another jar of garden delights. Adjust two-piece canning lids and process 20 minutes in a boiling-water bath. You don’t have to wait three years to open them, but do give them at least three weeks to let the vinegar do its work.
Sour cherries are one of those ephemeral gifts of nature: if everything goes right, and it’s not too hot, or too cold, and it rains just enough, but not too much, and it doesn’t hail, cherry growers (and eaters) are rewarded with about two weeks of sweet-tart perfection. Because they are so precious, I had never tried to preserve them before this year—I have yet to arrive at the U-Pick the appropriate week, and they’re quite expensive at my local farmer’s market in Clark Park. Last year, though, Marisa over at Food in Jars gave me a rather extraordinary jar of her sour cherry preserves. I wanted some of my own, and, by God, I was going to have some.
But then I went on vacation and missed the harvest at Mood’s. Yet again.
Oh well, I thought. Isn’t eating locally all about learning that food is all about timing?
But to my surprise, some of our market’s Pennsylvania farmers showed up with a few boxes of sour cherries. I bought three pints for $3 each and dived in. I ended up with 4 pints of absolutely divine sour cherry preserves, then promptly opened one jar back up to serve to friends. And next year, I’ll pick my own and can all I want. Really.
Sour Cherry Preserves
3 pints sour cherries, pitted
2 1/2 c. sugar
Juice of one lemon
1 T real vanilla (or use a bean)
1 cinnamon stick
1) Combine all of the ingredients in a pot and bring to a boil. This is never going to gel, but bring it close to the gelling point. I used a candy thermometer and cooked it to 214°F (at sea level). Fish out the cinnamon stick and the vanilla bean, if you’re using them, and turn off the heat.
2) Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil and prepare 4 half-pint jars. Prepare your lids. Transfer the hot preserves to the hot jars and adjust the two-piece lids. Process in a boiling-water bath for 10 minutes.
Picking fruit is a glorious way to spend a day. Picking fruit with friends is even better. Last Friday Kate (on the left) from The Hip Girl’s Guide to Homemaking and her friend Liz came down from Brooklyn to join me (on the right) at Mood’s, my preferred berry-picking location. (I like how the very top of my hat just barely reaches Kate’s nose.) At this point, Kate’s nearly two-thirds done writing her book, and it was time for a berry-picking break. Mood’s came through, as always, with great fruit (and great prices).
I came home with about 8 pounds of blueberries, 10 pounds of plums, and a scant pound of raspberries. The raspberries are one their way out at this point—the lack of rain and crazy heat have done their work. But the plums! Oh, the plums! Never have I had such spectacular plums! Mood’s has both red and yellow Japanese sweet plums. The yellow ones (Shiro, I think) still needed a few days, but the red ones (possibly Au Rosa?) were easy pickings. You just reach up, pick two red plums, eat one, and put the other in your basket. Repeat. Experience bliss.
OK, all you beet doubters! I’m offering a tomato canning class on Sunday, July 25, at 1 PM. We’ll make some salsa and stuff some tomatoes in jars. You’ll learn the difference between a hot pack and a cold pack. We’ll also discuss pros and cons of water-bath versus pressure canning for tomatoes and how to can sauce safely. And yes, you’ll leave with a jar.
When: Sunday, July 25th, 1 to 3 PM
Where: Doris’s house in West Philadelphia (details upon registration)
Cost: $25 includes all supplies
I had no idea that so many people had such a strong aversion to beets. My beet class last weekend was somewhat under-enrolled, and I kept getting e-mails that said, more or less, “I really want to come and learn how to can, except that I can’t stand beets!” How can I convince you that beets are delicious, nutritious, and beautiful to boot? Will this post help?
Picked beets were a staple in my house as a kid growing up. My mother always goes for your basic pickled beet: nothing but white vinegar, water, and sugar. I usually do, too, but on Saturday my CSA included several heads of fennel. Fennel and beets are a natural pair, so the few dedicated beet-loving souls who attended the Saturday class left with a slightly more sophisticated product. If you don’t like fennel, no problem—just leave it out. If, on the other hand, you like a spicy pickled beet, feel free to add any of the following (but probably not all at once) to your pickling jars: peppercorns, cloves, allspice, star anise, dill heads, garlic, or strips of hot pepper.
Beets are a low-acid food, so please don’t change the proportion of vinegar to water. You can, however, use cider vinegar, so long as it’s at least 5% acidity. Finally, the purpose of the sugar is merely to counteract the tartness of the vinegar and preserve the color—it’s not really involved in the safety equation. Feel free to add more or less, depending on your taste, or to substitute brown sugar, raw sugar, or a sugar substitute. I can’t predict what making all of these kinds of changes will do to the color and texture of your beets, but so long as your acid is 5%, it’s safe for water-bath canning. Finally, be sure to wait several weeks to let the beets develop their full flavor. Then devour at leisure.
Pickled Beets with Fennel
About five pounds of beets
One long fennel frond, cut into seven pieces
7 peppercorns
3 1/2 c. distilled white vinegar (5%)
1 1/2 c. water
1 1/2 c. sugar
1) Wash your beets, leaving the roots and 1″ of stems attached. Cook your beets your preferred way. Some options: pressure cooking, boiling, roasting, or wrapped in foil in the crock pot. Cool. If your beets are thoroughly cooked, the skins should slip right off. Leave small beets whole, but cut larger beets into bite-sized pieces (or slice, or quarter, or whatever appeals to you).
2) Make your canning solution. Combine the vinegar, water, and sugar in a small pan and bring to a boil. Meanwhile, heat water for a boiling water bath, warm your jar lids, and have 7 pint jars ready.
3) Place a piece of fennel and a single peppercorn in each jar. Transfer the beets to the jars and cover with hot syrup. Remove air bubbles and add more syrup if necessary, leaving 1/4″ headspace. Adjust two-piece lids. Process in a boiling-water bath for 30 minutes.
4) After the jars have cooled and you’ve checked for seals, be sure to remove the rings. The syrup is sticky, and the rings become difficult to remove if you leave them on too long. Once you’ve opened the jars, you might want to switch to a plastic lid, as the vinegar will quickly corrode a standard canning lid.
This little experiment for the June Can Jam was one of the only times that I’ve taken a spoonful of preserves and thought, “By God! I’ve got it!” This is a mixture of blueberries, apricots, lemons, and walnuts, and it’s just about perfect. It’s a “conserve” rather than a “jam” or a “marmalade” in that it has more than one kind of fruit in it (“con-”) and that the texture is more of a preserve than a jam (soft with little pieces of fruit in it). Like most of my jams, this one doesn’t have pectin in it, so the texture may vary. At first I thought I had merely created sauce, but within a few hours it started to set. At this point it’s still loose, but definitely firm enough to eat on a cracker. When you eat it, the first taste is blueberries, pure and simple, but it leaves a wonderful lemon sensation in your mouth. You can’t really taste the apricots per se, except that it’s sort of floral. You’ll just have to try it for yourself and see.
I used individually quick frozen blueberries because I still had a couple of bags in the freezer from last year and have yet to make it over to New Jersey to pick this year’s batch. No changes if you’re using fresh.
Finally, about the nuts. Nuts are a low acid food, but the blueberries and lemons are acidic enough to make this safe. I based on this a published recipe that I have now misplaced. I don’t remember the specifics except that it included raisins, more nuts, and probably more sugar. I’m therefore very confident that this is fine for water bath canning, nuts and all. If you want to be on the safe side, give it another 5 minutes in the water bath.
Blueberry Pucker Conserve
6 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
4 cups sugar
3/4 c coarsely chopped walnuts
About 12 dried apricots, chopped
2 lemons
1) Slice your lemons as thin as possible, removing any seeds, like this:
Now run your knife across them a couple of times to make strips. If you’d like, you could remove the pulp from the peel and trim out the pith, but I never bother (and besides, the pith provides needed pectin).
2) Toss everything in a pot, stir, and turn on medium heat. Add just a splash or two of water to make thing moist, then stir gently until the blueberries start to break down, the sugar melts, and you have a sauce, like so:
Meanwhile, bring a pot of water to boil for the water bath and sterilize your jars. I needed 5 half pint jars (actually, 4 half pints and 2 4-oz jars, but who’s counting?).
3) Bring the blueberry mix to a boil and cook rapidly to the gelling point, approximately 20 minutes. Be sure to keep an eye on it—it will foam.
4) Transfer the hot conserve to the hot jars and adjust two-piece lids. Process in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.
Want one? Leave a comment by Sunday, July 4, at noon.
Last summer, my friend Alex gave me a packet of kohlrabi seeds that she had purchased on a recent visit with her family in Switzerland. The instructions were in German, but I thought I could figure out what I needed to know: you plant them in early spring for a summer crop or mid-summer for a fall crop. I thought it odd that the illustrations suggested starting the seeds indoors, but hey, who am I to question Swiss ingenuity?
So I planted my kohrabi and watched them grow. Huh, I though. They look a lot like broccoli.
Then last week I started poking around the soil. I had seem some kohlrabi at my local farmer’s market, and some of my beets were starting to show their shoulders, so surely the kohlrabi should be on its way, right? But when I pushed the dirt around, no sign of a root vegetable. Disappointing.
Then I looked up. Then I smacked myself on the forehead. As you can see in the picture, that little knob of kohlrabi deliciousness forms ABOVE GROUND, as a sort of engorged part of the stem. Um, obviously. That part of the description must have been in German.
My understanding is that I should harvest them when they reach about 3″. They’re planted too close together, so I may not have much choice in the matter…but now that I know what I’m doing I’m definitely going to plant another batch for fall, this time giving them more room to breathe.
Clearly, I’m a kohlrabi novice. What do they taste like, anyway? I’m guessing a cross between broccoli stems and turnips? Can anybody fill me in?
I have no idea why, but I’ve been on a total pie kick this summer. This is the second strawberry rhubarb pie I’ve made, plus a cherry pie for a picnic. Perhaps I’ll look back fondly on the summer of 2010 as the summer of pie?
I usually use Joy of Cooking as a reference for both flaky pie crust and sugar/filling ratios. I generally cut back a bit on the fat. If I know I’m cooking for omnivores, I’ll throw in maybe a tablespoon or so of rendered bacon fat…but I wouldn’t suggest that for potlucks and picnics, where vegetarian friends might get tricked into eating pork pie. You’ll notice that I have a bit of trouble maintaining the integrity of a pie crust, but my feeling is that one eats a piece of pie for its taste, not its looks. And finally, rest assured that you can make this from fresh or frozen fruit.
I’m curious: how do you store your pies? My family always left theirs out on the table until someone ate it. Usually this would take a couple of days. Presumably one should refrigerate it if you’re planning on having it hang around, but what’s the turning point?
Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
For the crust:
2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 T sugar
1/3 c. unsalted butter
1/3 c. vegetable shortening OR 1/4 c. vegetable shortening + 1 1/2 T bacon fat
Pinch of salt (omit if using bacon fat)
About 1/3 c. ice-cold water
For the filling:
3 c. fresh strawberries, hulled and halved (see below for frozen)
2 to 3 c. rhubarb, cleaned and cut into 1″ pieces
1/2 to 1 c sugar, depending on your tartness preference
3 T cornstarch
1) Make the dough. Combine the flour, sugar, and salt. Cut in the fat, either using a pastry cutter, two knives, or a food processor. Add in just enough water to make the whole thing stick together. Squeeze it together, wrap it all up in plastic wrap, and refrigerator for at least half an hour. It needs to be good and cold to keep it from melting when you roll out the dough.
2) Preheat the oven to 425°F.
3) Divide the dough into two slightly uneven halves. Roll out the larger half into a circle slightly larger than a 10″ pie plan. Transfer the dough to the pan. Tip: Fold it in half, fold again, to make a little quarter. Put the point in the center of the pie pan and unfold.
4) Combine the filling ingredients and let sit no more than 10 minutes while you make the top crust.
5) Roll out the smaller portion of the dough into a circle large enough to top your pie.
6) Transfer your filling to the pie pan. Carefully cover with the dough for the top crust. If you have miraculously done this without ripping it, you’ll need to add some decorative vents. If you, like me, have created several little rips, use them creatively to begin a vent design. Trim the edges a hair beyond the end of the pan, and so that the bottom layer is slightly outside of the top. Fold over the bottom crust overhang over the top, then seal using your preferred method: crimping with a fork, your fingers, etc. Brush the crust with a little bit of milk and dust with sugar. Transfer the pie pan to a baking sheet (to catch drips) and put on a rack in the bottom third of the oven.
7) Bake for 30 minutes, then turn the heat down to 350°F and bake another 30 minutes. The crust should be golden brown, and delicious strawberry rhubarb goo should be spilling out of the pie.
To make with frozen berries: If using whole, individually quick frozen berries, just substitute them as if they were fresh. If using berries frozen in sugar, you’ll need an entire quart, and you’ll need to drain all but 1/4 c. of the liquid (Keep it! Strawberry syrup!). Add just a bit of sugar—say, 1/4 c.—and be sure to include the cornstarch.
Wait…you didn’t think I preserved ALL of my greens, did you? Of course not! I’m managing to eat some, though hardly as many as I probably should. Besides sauteed in garlic, this is probably one of my favorite ways to eat them. This particular version was made with the greens of yellow beets. Yellow beet greens taste remarkably like chard, but pretty much any of the sturdy greens would work: spinach, chard, beet greens, and kale are all good. Collards might be pushing it. Because it’s vegan and doused in vinegar, it travels well and makes a great summer potluck contribution. And last but hardly least, it’s a a good pantry salad: it uses last year’s dehydrated cherry tomatoes, and I’ve successfully made a version of this with frozen greens, minus the fresh basil.
Serves 4 to 6, depending on your fondness for beans.
Beans and Greens Salad
2 c. dried navy or Great Northern beans, or 4 c. cooked
1/2 c. dried tomatoes
1/2 lb or so fresh greens (beet greens, spinach, chard, kale, etc.) or 1 c. frozen
1 clove garlic, minced
handful of basil leaves, chopped or chiffonaded
1 T + 1/2 c. olive oil
1/4 red wine vinegar
salt and pepper
1) If using dried beans, cook via your preferred method. I like to soak them, then cook 5 minutes in a pressure cooker at 15 pounds of pressure. Rinse. If using canned beans, be sure to rinse them well to remove excess salt.
2) Rehydrate your tomatoes. Cover the tomatoes with boiling water. Let them steep for about 10 minutes. Drain, saving the delicious tomato water for another purpose.
3) If using fresh greens: Wash in several changes of water until the water is clean. Remove large stems, if necessary. Give the leaves a few big whacks with the knife to make them more manageable. If you’re using chard, save them stems and dice them. If using frozen greens: remove from the freezer bag and chop them up to ensure a more even thaw in the pan. Heat up the 1 T oil in a large pot and add the garlic and chard stems (if using). Cook carefully for about 5 minutes, making sure to not let the garlic burn. Turn down the heat, add the leaves, stir to coat with the oil and garlic, and cover. The remaining water on the leaves should be sufficient to steam them, but add more if necessary. Just cook until wilted or tender, depending on the heartiness of the green. Frozen greens won’t need much time at all—the goal is basically to warm them up.
4) Make your vinaigrette. Whisk the remaining oil into the vinegar. Add salt and pepper to taste.
5) Toss everything together. If time allows, let the flavors marry for at least 20 minutes before adjusting the seasonings.
