Doris and Jilly Cook » Pickles

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?

Hot Zucchini Relish

dorisandjilly — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 13:00:30 +0000

My grandmother used to make and sell the most astonishing hot pepper relish. This isn’t that recipe—some family secrets are meant to be kept—but it’s almost as good. It has a proven track record in winning over zucchini doubters, relish doubters, and hot pickle doubters. It’s also an excellent use for leftover, end-of-season yellow squash and zucchini.

And the best part? Because the liquid component of the syrup is unadulterated vinegar, you can vary the ratio of peppers to zucchini to your little heart’s content without compromising the relish’s safety for water-bath canning. You’re in much greater danger of burning your fingers from the hot peppers than you are of contracting botulism. If you’re sensitive, be sure to wear gloves while handling the peppers.

One other thing: in honor of my late grandmother, this hot and sweet. Feel free to cut the sugar by as much as half if that’s not your thing.

Hot Zucchini Relish

Approx. 2 pounds zucchini or yellow squash, shredded
Approx. 1/2 pound onions, shredded
Approx. 1 1/2 pound peppers, combination of sweet and hot, shredded
2 c. white or raw sugar
2 c. cider or white vinegar
2 T kosher salt
1 T mustard seed

1) Make your life easier by shredding everything in a food processor. Trust me on this.

2) Combine the sugar, vinegar, salt, and mustard seeds in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Add in the vegetables and simmer 10 minutes.

3) Meanwhile, prepare a boiling water bath and sterilize 4 pint jars* and lids. Transfer the hot relish into the hot jars and adjust the two-piece lids. Process in a boiling-water bath for 10 minutes.

I made my version with cider vinegar, white onions, and about equal parts (by weight) sweet and hot peppers. The hots ranged from a relatively mild serrano to three surprisingly hot banana peppers and a couple of cayenne. I could stand in the kitchen, eating this on crackers, all afternoon.

*Note: I will swear up and down that this made 4 half-pints for me, but everyone else is getting 4 pints. Maybe my scale’s off? Maybe I was typing the recipe from another dimension? In any case, thanks for the feedback!

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.

Mixed Vinegar Pickle #1

dorisandjilly — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 21:27:22 +0000

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.

Pickled Beets with Fennel

dorisandjilly — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 12:55:16 +0000

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.