Doris and Jilly Cook » Fermentation

Spring Loaded Carrot Kimchi

dorisandjilly — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 13:05:56 +0000

Last weekend I pulled up the carrots I had left to overwinter at my community garden. The boards on the raised bed were rotten, and my billy goat had offered to build me a new frame so I could put in my spring seeds. While I was grateful, that meant that I had to rip out everything still in the ground, ready or not. The carrots were a pleasant surprise. When I last checked on them a few weeks ago, they looked small, sad, lonely, and frozen. Turns out a few days of sunshine and warmer weather perked them right up.

We’ve eaten about half of the big ones already, in a slaw, a roasted carrot and beet salad, and as aromatics in yet another lentil stew. The little guys, being too delicate to cook, have found their way into a kimchi. We’re still finding daikon radish at our local farmer’s market, and carrots and radish are a natural pair. This is a quick kimchi that needs only a couple of days instead of the usual three or four to get just the right amount of tang. It’s tasty, too—I’m tempted to buy up all the daikon I can find to have enough to enjoy all summer.

Carrot Daikon Kimchi

Approx. 1/2 lb. carrots, cut into matchsticks (quartered lengthwise if small)
Approx. 1/2 lb. daikon radish, sliced thin (I used the 4 mm blade on my food processor)
3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2″ quarter ginger root, shredded
1 dried hot pepper
Scallions, if you have them
4 1/2 T kosher salt
6 c. water

1) Dissolve the salt in the water to make a brine.

2) Combine all the vegetables in a quart-sized, wide-mouthed sterilized jar. You may think they won’t fit, but push.

3) Pour the brine over the vegetables. Remove the air bubbles and convince the vegetables to stay submerged using whatever technique you’d like (I find that a jelly jar filled with brine makes an excellent weight).

4) Put your jar on a saucer (to catch spillover) and let it ferment for 2 to 4 days, depending on your preference, in cool, dark place. You should start seeing bubbles (indicating fermentation) within 12 to 24 hours. Kimchis are happiest when fermenting at 50 to 60°F, but note that the cooler your room, the longer the fermentation will take. Stored in the refrigerator, this will keep at least a month, possibly much longer.

The Preservationists Vs. the Artisans

dorisandjilly — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 13:05:38 +0000

Sometimes the New York Times annoys me.

Yesterday—in case you missed it—the Dining and Wine section featured a “D.I.Y. Cooking Handbook.” For most of the day, at least until nuclear fears and March Madness pushed it down the page, the story held a coveted spot just to the left of the videos. Click through, and you encountered an invitation to make your own mustard, vinegar, kimchi, and even Nutella. But do not fear, apartment dwellers! The author assured readers that the recipes are not seasonal and that they would require neither canning nor freezing. “Before getting underway,” Julia Moskin writes, ” it’s not necessary to understand lactic fermentation, or to learn the difference between bacon and pancetta.”

ARRRRGH. Where to begin. Let’s start with this. Has the author tried freezing kale, which she mentions as a particularly terrifying activity? I’m wondering which part of blanching vegetables and sticking them in plastic bags is so complicated, especially compared to, say, making tesa, a kind of cold-cured pork belly? And how do you reconcile the line that “You can’t get more local than your own kitchen” (from the introduction) with recipes that involve hazelnuts and chocolate? Are there secret cocoa plantations hidden in the wilds of Long Island? And what’s with the random swipe at Charcutepalooza’s February challenge?

I was trying to figure out what, exactly, ticked me off about this article. To begin with, I have a knee-jerk reaction against reporting that presents knowledge as bad. As an editor, it makes no sense to me that the Times will front complicated diagrams of nuclear reactors, but somehow decide that explanations of canning, lactofermentation, and freezing (?!!) are beyond its readers. The piece was also sort of randomly researched. The bibliography includes some useful links, like the National Center for Home Food Preservation, Hank Shaw’s Hunter Angler Gardner Cook, Kate Payne’s The Hip Girls’ Guide to Homemaking, and Charcutepalooza (at which I seem to be 1 for 3, but that’s another story). But no Food in Jars? Seriously? And what about Punk Domestics, your one-stop-shop for kitchen DIY? No Canvolution? No smaller-but-just-as-brilliant blogs, like Hitchhiking to Heaven?

I recognize that I’m partially annoyed that the New York Times does not recognize the brilliance of my hard-working canning friends, without whom there would be no canning phenomenon to merit a backlash against. I’m biased. Fair enough.

But I think this is about something deeper. For me, this article highlighted the fundamental divide in the DIY food community between artisan production and resourcefulness. On the one hand, you’ve got what I would call the Artisanal Brooklyn Movement (or perhaps Moment)? These are the folks bringing you $9 pickles. It’s a movement fueled by a desire to achieve freedom from corporate producers and industrial food. (These are values I share, by the way.) It is not, however, a movement that’s about simplicity or locality. As the Artisanal Brooklyn Movement moves toward self-parody, it seems more and more like its proponents are suggesting that you continue to eat the stuff that you get at high-end restaurants and specialty groceries—but instead of purchasing them, they suggest that you learn to make them yourself. And this, my friends, is how you end up making your own maple vinegar.

The most avid proponents of local food preservation, on the other hand, push austerity and making do. How long can you push the harvest? What’s the maximum distance of your food shed? Do you find that blueberries in March are better dehydrated, frozen, or canned? Sometimes you sacrifice quality for the satisfaction of knowing where your food comes from. Rather than something to be worked around, seasonality is the point. In spring you plan and plant; in summer you eat from your garden; in fall you harvest and preserve; in winter you eat from your stores. It’s alternatively exhausting, exhilarating, and monotonous. And this, my friends, is how you end up eating frozen kale salads in March.

Don’t confuse DIY with food preservation. There’s something to be said for each. While I happen to find frozen kale delicious, I wouldn’t eat nearly so much of it if it didn’t keep so well. It’s not very exciting, and I doubt that I’m going to see it offered up in my local boutique grocery anytime soon. It is, however, extraordinarily dependable, and cheap. So, I’ll stick with it. At the same time, I recognize the joys to be had from homemade artisanal products made with specialty or imported ingredients. As I type this, I’m sipping organic coffee imported from Costa Rica, sweetened with sugar from God-only-knows where. My coffee would be even better accompanied by a fancy homemade cracker topped with homemade Nutella—maybe I’ll try my hand at it next week.

All of which is to say that maybe the DIY Cooking Handbook isn’t necessarily so awful. It’s just not talking to me. I’m trying to take this as a reminder that I want my own posts to be as inviting to those of you coming at this from the artisanal side as this piece was originally off-putting to me. And I offer my solemn promise that knowing how lactofermentation works won’t make your kimchi taste any more sour (unless you like it that way).

But enough of my grumpiness. What did you think? How’s that tomato chili jam?

Canning on the Hudson

dorisandjilly — Wed, 09 Mar 2011 14:05:42 +0000

It’s the time of year when the days get longer, the crocuses start to bloom, and intrepid gardeners put in their peas. And as our larders from last year grow thin, we start to think about how, what, and how much to preserve from the coming year’s harvest. This projecting business is the hardest part—how many jars of pickled beets do I really need? Why on earth didn’t we can twice as many tomatoes as we did? How is it possible that we ran out of frozen kale? And who knew that the dried zucchini would hold up so well?

Learning strategies for putting up food is more fun in a group. I know I’m still learning—never more so than when I teach. On June 10–12, I’ll once again be teaching a three-day food preservation workshop on the peaceful grounds of the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York. We’ll cover not only the basic techniques of water bath canning, pressure canning, dehydrating, and fermenting, but the ever-so-important questions of how to decide which technique to apply to which foods. We’ll talk about finding reasonable ways to integrate food preservation into our lives and share strategies for estimating amounts.

Registration is limited, so sign-up early! Click through for more details and registration information, or drop me a line at dorisandjilly@gmail.com for more information.

Ask the Goats: Canning Kimchi?

dorisandjilly — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 06:55:48 +0000

Ask the Goats is a semi-regular Monday feature in which we, the goats, attempt to answer your food preservation questions. Got a question? Drop us a line at dorisandjilly@gmail.com.

Q. I would like to can kimchi so that it can be preserved without refrigeration and for longer periods. Is this possible? You have no information on your site.—Robin A.

A. Alas, no. All sources I’ve seen say that while it’s safe to can sauerkraut and fully fermented cucumber pickles, it is not a good idea to can kimchi. Although I have yet to find an extended explanation, there seem to be two separate issues. First, there’s the practical problem that kimchi is generally too fragile to withstand the heat of a water-bath processor. Fresh kimchi is delicious; boiled kimchi, not so much. But putting aside the texture, there’s also the question of acidity. In fully fermented foods, like sauerkraut, the lactic acid produced by the bacteria is strong enough to bring the acidity below a pH of 4.6—the magic number necessary to make a food safe for water-bath canning. The shorter fermentation period in kimchis, however, is usually not strong enough to ensure such a high pH.

There’s one other thing to consider. If you’re eating fermented foods for their health-giving properties, keep in mind that canning will kill the good bacteria along with the bad. Killing bacteria is, after all, the point of water-bath processing.

And finally, yes, you really should refrigerate your kimchi. I just had to throw out a batch that I’d been storing in my 55°F basement. I had hoped that the temperature would be cold enough to inhibit the growth of molds, but such was not the case. The kimchi at the very bottom of the jar was still edible, but the rest of it had an off-taste from mold spores that had dissolved in the brine. Another jar of fully fermented pickled green tomatoes, on the other hand, had been more successful at fending off the molds. Presumably the higher acidity level had something to do with it. Chalk it up to lessons learned.

The Accidental Salt Mine

dorisandjilly — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 13:55:52 +0000

This has to be the coolest thing I’ve ever found growing in my basement. Fermented things, as you probably already know, require a lot of salt. To make sauerkraut, for instance, you mix approximately 4 1/2 T of kosher salt per 5 pounds of cabbage, stuff everything into a jar, and weight it until the cabbage is submerged in its own brine. Weight 3 to 6 weeks, and you’ve got sauerkraut.

Sometimes, fermentation gets messy. Your jars leak and leave little salty puddles on the floor. And because the basement gods were smiling, I got crystals instead of scum and mold. And although I do know that there’s a perfectly reasonable scientific explanation, I’m happy to chalk this one up to magic.

Giveaway: Put ‘Em Up!

dorisandjilly — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 13:00:22 +0000

Earlier this summer, the nice folks over at Storey Publishing sent me a copy of Serri Brooks Vinton’s Put ‘Em Up. Sometimes, when I sit on a review copy, it’s because I’m trying to decide what, if anything, to say (on the theory of “If you can’t say something nice….”). But that’s not what happened here. I love, love, love this book. I’ve been dithering ever since as to whether I should keep it, or give it away. Lucky for you, my bookshelves are just about full.

I like so many things about this book that it’s hard to pinpoint just one thing. If I had to narrow it down, I’d point to the author’s focus on ingredients rather than method. There’s been so much excitement about canning over the past year—enthusiasm that I share!—that I think some people are missing the point. The point of canning is not just to assemble a pretty pantry, or to recover lost skills, or display hipster credentials. It’s definitely not about making life harder, contrary to the advice offered in one odd little not-quite-a-cookbook. Ultimately, we can to preserve food. And there’s the rub. Canning is not the only, or even the best, way to preserve many foods. Vegetables freeze well; peppers are terrific dried; cabbage was seemingly made for sauerkraut.

Once you get the hang of food preservation, you start to develop a sixth sense for what method might work best for any given food item. You also develop preferences for what you like to eat and how you like to spend your time in the kitchen. Unfortunately, most food preservation handbooks focus on technique, with long sections on water-bath canning, pressure canning, pickling, freezing, and dehydrating. This is great if you’re looking for an introduction to how to make pickles. It’s not so helpful if you’ve got 30 pounds of tomatoes and need to know the pros and cons of freezing vs. canning vs. dehydrating. Vinton’s section on cherries, for instance, includes instructions and recipes for frozen cherries, a sweet refrigerator sauce, a shelf-stable cherry bourbon infusion, dehydrated cherry leather, basic dried cherries, a savory cherry-walnut relish for canning (really a pickle), and cherry preserves. It’s really the most useful and versatile book I’ve seen for people who are dabbling in food preservation because they want to transition to a local foods lifestyle. And everything I’ve made from it is delicious.

My only complaint? It’s too short! I’m as excited about the next person about pickled ramps, but where’s the eggplant? And I do so sorely wish someone would break the ban on pressure canning in “mainstream” canning books. But these are small complaints. It’s really terrific, and if you don’t win the giveaway, you might want to buy it.

So about that giveaway? Leave a comment describing a new technique that you’ve explored this year by Friday, September 24. And—though it’s not required to enter the giveaway—it would really make our day if you could “like” us on Facebook! Just click through and join the party.

Three Ways to Preserve Greens

dorisandjilly — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 13:24:00 +0000

Based on your recent Google searches, I gather that I am not the only one drowning in beet greens, turnip greens, collar greens, chard, and kale. Earlier this week I went out to my garden and cut about 5 pounds of kale, turnip greens, and beet greens. This seemed like a manageable project. That’s when my CSA showed up with about a pound each of collards, red beet greens, yellow beet greens, spinach, and frisée. We’ll eat the spinach and frisée in salads, but realistically there are only so many hearty greens that two people can eat in a week. My solution is procrastination: preserve them and figure out how to eat them in winter.

You’ve got three basic options: freezing, dehydrating, or canning. More ambitious folks can try fermenting, like I did with my bumper crop of bok choi last year. But let’s stick with the basics here.

Freezing Greens

This is the easiest, and probably the best, solution. It’s very, very easy to freeze greens. You just blanch them, cool them in an ice bath, and freeze. I’ve got step-by-step instructions and photos here. Assuming you’ve got a good freezer, these will keep very well for a year. We used ours all winter in soups, stews, pastas, dips, and even just sauteed with garlic. They shrink dramatically when blanched—plan on about a pound of fresh greens to make about two cups.

For most people, this is the way to go. If, however, you have limited freezer space, you live in an area that experiences frequent power outages, or are planning for a future without electricity, you need other options. Alas, they’re not great. But, you asked, so here goes.

Dehydrating Greens

Are you one of those people who likes to sprinkle seaweed flakes over your rice bowl at the local health food store? Then you might like this. Steam your greens just until they’re wilted. Transfer them to dehydrator trays and dry at a low temperature (say, 110ºF) just until they’re crispy. You’ll want to keep an eye on them—within two hours, mine looked like this:

Now what, you may ask, would you do with dehydrated turnip greens? That’s an excellent question. I rehydrated some with a little bit of room temperature water, and they looked pretty good. The problem was that they had no perceptible taste. In the end, I crumbled them up and stuck them in a spice jar:

I sprinkled an entire leaf’s worth of flakes over a bowl of roasted potatoes and couldn’t tell they were there. I suspect that they’re still fairly nutritious, though, so maybe this isn’t such a bad way to incorporate hearty greens into your diet. I guess.

Canning Greens

The things I do for science.

Yes, it is possible to can hearty greens. It requires a pressure cooker and a processing time of 1 hour, 10 minutes for pints and 1 hour, 30 minutes for quarts. Yes, you read that right. And after you’ve subjected these poor, innocent vegetables to 240ºF to more than an hour, you get this appetizing product:

(And that’s the glamor shot.)

The nutritional value of all of this is questionable. They taste about like you would expect them to. If, however, you have absolutely no other options and feel strongly about having a pantry full of shelf-stable vegetables, this technique will serve you well. But Lordy, do they smell bad. Here’s how you do it.

1) Bring about 3 quarts of water to a boil. You need 2 quarts for the pressure canner, plus some extra to pour over the greens.
2) Steam the greens until wilted. Cut them into manageable pieces.

3) Stuff the greens into canning jars. Add 1/2 t. salt per jar (optional) and cover with boiling water, leaving 1″ headspace. Don’t forget to remove the air bubbles. Adjust two-piece lids.
4) Transfer the jars to a rack on a pressure canner. Pour in 2 quarts of boiling water. Lock the lid into place, but do not place the regulator on the steam vent. Turn on the heat and exhaust steam from the vent for 10 minutes. Then place the regulator on the steam vent and bring the canner to 10 pounds of pressure. Start timing once the regulator starts rocking—70 minutes for pints, 90 minutes for quarts. (If this is confusing, see the step-by-step directions, with pictures, in this post.)
5) Turn off the heat and let the pressure drop of its own accord. When the pressure has dropped, remove the regulator. Now open all your windows. After waiting a few more minutes, open the lid away from your body. The pungent aroma of overcooked turnip greens will fill your house, and you’ll have all the shelf-stable greens you want. Plan on 2 to 5 pounds per pint, depending on the kind of greens involved. Um, yum?

Other ideas?

Canning on the Hudson

dorisandjilly — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 12:19:13 +0000

I’m baaaaack! Posts on gardening, cooking, and canning soon to follow—but first, an announcement.

This June I’ll be offering a three-day, four-course sustainable food preservation workshop on the beautiful grounds of the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York, June 4–6. We’ll do water-bath canning, pressure canning, picking, fermenting, dehydrating, and more, all with seasonal produce from farmers in the Hudson Valley. As with all my classes, you’ll leave with canned goods, recipes, and the confidence to try food preservation at home.

I’m especially excited that this workshop is happening at Omega, because course registrants (and me!) get to participate in the full Omega experience: besides the canning workshops, you’ll have access to yoga and meditation classes, spa services, canoeing and kayaking, swimming, or just lounging around the lovely property. This is the first time that Omega’s offered a food preservation workshop, and we’ll need your enthusiasm to make it a repeat event. Please help us spread the word by reposting, tweeting, or however you newfangled folks communicate these days.

Course tuition is $125, plus a $20 materials fee and accommodations at Omega. You can register here.

Questions? Concerns? E-mail me.

Roasted Cabbage and Brussel Sprouts

dorisandjilly — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 14:55:00 +0000

The more dedicated readers among you may remember that a few months ago I found myself the proud owner of a bumper crop of red cabbage. I turned most of them into spectacular pink sauerkraut, but I also tried an experiment. When I cut the heads, I left the bottom of the plant behind, much like you would when cut broccoli or turnip greens. Jilly’s husband assured me that, left to their own devices, the plants would eventually grow miniature cabbages, sort of like brussel sprouts. Sure enough, three months later, I cut another four pounds or so of cabbage. A few were almost the size of small regular cabbages, but most were more like large brussel sprouts. A photo for comparison:

I kept a few aside for tacos—each one is just about exactly what you’d need for enough garnish for two hungry people—and decided to co-mingle the rest of them in a roasting pan with the brussel sprouts. If you’ve already got the oven on, this couldn’t be easier. The high heat brings out the cabbages’ secret sweetness.

Roasted Cabbage and Brussel Sprouts

About 1 pound of small red cabbages
About 1/2 pound of brussel sprouts
Salt
Olive oil

1) Preheat the oven to 425°F or whatever temperature is convenient.

2) Cut the brussel sprouts and small cabbages in half. If your cabbages are significantly larger than the brussel sprouts, cut them into fourths so everything will cook evenly. Douse everything in olive oil and some salt and arrange in a roasting pan.

3) Roast for about 25 minutes, stirring a few times to make sure nothing’s burning.

Enjoy!

Canning Sauerkraut

dorisandjilly — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 12:10:50 +0000

Remember my pink sauerkraut experiment? It worked! And it’s delicious! And it made 2 1/2 quarts! Fortunately, sauerkraut cans well, so it’s now safely tucked away in jars. It will also keep well for months in the refrigerator if you have enough space.

Pink Sauerkraut (can be canned)

5, 10, or 15 pounds of red cabbage
lots of salt
a big jar or crock
a large plastic bag

1) Shred the cabbage very thin. If you don’t have a kraut board, a mandoline is your next best bet. If, like me, you’re frightened of mandolines, you can use a very sharp knife.

2) Combine each 5 pounds of cabbage with either 3 T of pickling salt or 4 1/5 T of kosher salt. Using your hands, make sure it’s evenly distributed.

3) Pack the cabbage as tightly as possible in large jars or crocks. The tighter it is, the better the fermentation will be. As a guideline, I was able to fit 8 pounds into a 3/4 gallon jar.

4) Move it to a cool dark place and wait one day. By now, the cabbage will have started forming its own brine. If the cabbage is not yet covered in liquid, make a new brine by dissolving 1 1/2 T pickling salt or 2 1/4 T kosher salt in 1 quart of water. A trick to keep the cabbage submerged is to insert a food-grade plastic ziplock bag in the jar and fill it with brine.

5) Wait patiently for 2 to 5 weeks, depending on the temperature of your basement or other cool place. It will ferment faster at higher temperatures, but you’ll get a better flavor in the 50 to 70°F range.

To can:

Pack as tightly as possible into clean, sterilized jars. Process pints in a boiling-water bath for 15 minutes, quarts for 20 minutes.