pickles to swear by

 According to family lore, the Boy Scout's first word was "pickle." He loved them -- still does -- that much.  His maternal grandmother's recipe landed in our in-box this spring, shortly after we found a 5-gallon crock. The lid came from a completely different vendor in the same ginormous antiques mall. You'd think they'd get together, a la ice cream and waffle vendors at the Saint Louis Exposition. But I digress.

So, we planted a couple cucumbers in the community garden one lovely May day and within weeks, they became our vegetarian overloads.

See, the thing about this pickle recipe is that it calls for teensy cucumbers, specifically the "size of your thumb." You can't buy these from the grocery store, and I've never seen them at a farmer's market.  If you want this (and you do want this), you gotta DIY. You will not find 300 of these cucumbers at the same time; you'll have to add them to the crock as they become available. In practice, this means harvesting your cucumbers every 2-3 days.

The Boy Scout was hazy on just how big his parents' pickle crock was, but we (correctly) predicted that one recipe only filled about a third of ours -- and the cucumbers just kept rolling in. It didn't take long before we decided to add half a batch of brine, then another full recipe (if you're keeping count, that's 2.5 total batches of pickles). Also? You come from a family that depends on their garden to feed their many kids? You don't waste anything. We ate Italian summer salads and Greek summer salads and gazpacho and we gave pounds of them away to the neighbors. Six weeks into harvesting, I was praying for those cucumber vines to die already.

The recipe itself requires a lot of time. You cannot skip a day of adding sugar and stirring. You cannot blithely frolic past the brine-drain-dry method that keeps your pickles crisp and teed up for fermentation -- unless you want to flirt with, oh, say botulism. This is serious business: I designed a pickle tracker to make sure we didn't die. (I am inordinately proud of it and may provide a template and semiotic explanation in a separate post.)

Here's the real secret: if you're already going to spend this much time making this recipe, do not deviate from the New York Times spice mix recipe or something just as kick-a**. Nana's just calls for "mixed pickling spice" and it's one of those old skool things where everyone knew what that meant and everyone had their own spin on it. We didn't have Nana's spin, so we researched. You need to invest the same care in your spice mix that you do in the rest of the pickling process. Those dusty, old, overpriced bottles of pickling mix sold at the grocery store ain't gonna cut it.

Also, don't fret about the size of the cucumbers too much. We tossed in some 4-6 inchers just because we were so sick of eating them. They are fine. They just need a little longer in the crock to soak up the pickling brine, and as time goes on, they will shrink/wrinkle more, become a little less crisp, and hollow out in the middle where the seeds were. Otherwise, they taste just like the tiny ones.

Finally, be patient. Adding cucumbers throughout the 19-day period means it's going to take at least one month, probably two, before your batch really shines.

And I promise, it's worth the effort. Our neighbors took care of our cats when we were away for a summer weekend, and we dragooned them into the pickle coddling. We finally dished up a sample for one of them last month, and we nearly made him cuss at their deliciousness. They will make you and your friends and your family happy throughout the fall and holiday feasting season and the cold, gray winter days following -- and give you the needed nudge to do it all over again next summer.

Nana's 19-Day Crock Pickles

prep cucumbers

• 300 small cucumbers (size of your thumb)
• 1 cup coarse pickling salt*
• boiling water

1. Scrub cukes well, rinse, and place in crock.*  Add salt and boiling water to cover and let stand overnight.
2. In the morning, drain crock. DO NOT RINSE cucumbers, but wipe/pat excess salt brine from each one with paper towels (really). Put cukes in crock. 

* If you are "small batching" cucumbers, use 1/4 c pickling salt per 2 quarts water.

pickling spice recipe

adapted from The New York Times

• 2 tbsp black peppercorns
• 2 tbsp mustard seeds
• 2 tbsp coriander seeds
• 2 tbsp hot red pepper flakes
• 2 tbsp allspice berries
• 2 tbsp cardamom pods, lightly cracked
• 1 tbsp ground mace
• 2 small cinnamon sticks, crushed or broken into pieces
• 25 medium bay leaves, crumbled (fresh is better than dried, if you've got 'em)
• 2 tbsp whole cloves
• 1 tbsp ground ginger

1. Combine peppercorns, mustard seeds and coriander seeds in a small dry pan. Place over medium heat and stir until fragrant, being careful not to burn them; keep lid handy in case seeds pop. Crack peppercorns and seeds in mortar and pestle or with the side of a knife on cutting board.
2. Combine with other spices, mix. Store in tightly sealed plastic or glass container.

Yield: a little over 1 cup.

 

pickling brine and process

• ½ gallon cider vinegar
• 4 tablespoons sugar
• 4 tablespoons salt
• 4 tablespoons dry mustard
• ½ cup whole mixed pickling spice
• 3 pounds sugar

1. Add first 5 ingredients to 3-gallon crock (or larger) and stir well. Add cucumbers and place cover on crock.
2. Each day for the next 18 days add 1/3 cup sugar – stirring until dissolved; then replace cover.

Pickles may be placed in jars after all sugar has been added. If you added cucumbers to the brine in batches, wait at least one month after last cucumbers have been added to allow flavor to develop.

a plethora of peaches

Peach season rolled in like a juggernaut last week. For the past several summers, Grandma K. has placed an order on our behalf with an orchard about 5 minutes from her house for hard-to-find Sunhighs. It's much like Prohibition, this order: you show up and pay when you're told, you take what you get, and you're happy with this arrangement because there aren't many other options if you want this particular variety. And my golly, do you EVER want this particular variety.

Sunhighs are freestones, and when ripe, their skins peel off in big swaths with a couple tugs of a paring knife. They are extremely fragrant and juicy, plenty sweet enough to eat plain. They also make a killer crisp or pie and are sturdy enough to hold their shape if canned or frozen. Finally, they make a knockout spiced peach jam. We made several batches for wedding favors and more than one guest later told us they skeptically popped it open, intending to try a little on a piece of toast, only to devour the whole 4 ounces straight from the jar in one go.

This recipe works well with any variety of freestone peach, but really shines with Sunhighs.

Grandma K's Spiced Peach Jam

• 4 c prepared fruit (about 3 pounds fully ripe peaches)
• 2 tbsp fresh lemon juice (can substitute bottled juice)
• 1/2 tsp ground allspice
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves
• 5 1/2 c sugar (do not skimp on this or the jam won't set)
• 1 box Sure-Jell or other brand of pectin (if using low-sugar variety, read instructions for adjusted sugar amount)
• 1/2 tsp butter or margarine

1. Peel, pit, and finely chop the peaches. If you use a food processor for the "finely chop" part, make sure to leave some visible pieces of peach instead of turning it into a uniform slurry. Measure 4 cups into a 6-8 quart saucepan. Stir in lemon juice and spices.
2. Measure sugar into a separate bowl and set aside.
3. Stir Sure-Jell into fruit. Add butter or margarine. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally, then quickly stir in all of the sugar at once. Bring the jam back up to a full rolling bowl for exactly 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and skim off foam with a cold metal spoon.
4. Immediately fill hot, sterilized jars to within 1/8 inch of top. Seal with hot, sterilized lids and rings. Keeping jars level, move each to a rack or a cloth-covered wooden board to cool off and seal. You'll hear the lids pop over the next few hours. (We always sing out a "yay!" when they do this. Feel free to do the same.) If some of the jars don't seal in 3-4 hours, just put them in the refrigerator. They should be good for several months.
5. Do not move the sealed jars for 8-12 hours so the jam has a chance to set well. If the outside of a jars is sticky, remove the ring and gently wash the jar and ring with warm soapy water. Dry well, label, and put in a cool dark place until ready to use.
   

winter-to-spring salad

So I was working from home one day this week and trying to figure out what to do about lunch. I really dislike cooking or even thinking about putting together a normal, everyday meal, especially when it's just me. And when I say "really dislike," you may as well read that as "avoid at all costs." Given the choice among pulling out a cookbook and browsing for inspiration, falling back on something I can make with my eyes closed like a pot of red beans and rice, or pulling out the Cheerios, I'm going to go for the breakfast cereal every time. I can't tell you just HOW GREAT it is to be married to someone who loves to cook meals. I totally hit the lottery and I'm thankful every time the Boy Scout looks at me with a gleam in his eye and a stack of open cookbooks on the counter and asks, "How do you feel about [fill-in-the-blank-with-some-ridiculously-gorgeous-entree-that-takes-hours-of-dicing/steaming/assembling]?" And the leftovers? I'm drooling just thinking about it. You think risotto is good on the first night, wait until the flavors have a chance to develop for 24 hours.

But alas, on this particular day, there were no leftovers, and the fridge was pretty bare. Ends of cheeses, almost-gone relishes, a few pieces of fruit nearly ready for the compost. Luckily, the salad greens in the backyard were going great guns and in serious need of a trim, so I threw together this salad in about 5 minutes. If you've never tried chive flowers, you should. Not only are they colorful, they have a garlic-onion kick that elevates this salad to something a little more along the lines of what the Boy Scout turns out.

Winter-to-Spring Salad

• 1/4 large ripe pear, sliced into bite-size wedges
• 1/4 c goat cheese, crumbled
• 2 tbsp good olives, sliced
• 3 tbsp broken walnuts
• 2 c fresh salad greens, preferably a spicy mix
• 1 tbsp chive flowers (dried or fresh)
• balsamic dressing

Toss together and go outside into your garden to eat it.
Serves 1

It seemed like a good idea at the time

I've this lovely new friend who is working on a project that requires her to research cooking and food. At work. It's her JOB. How lucky is she?!

She's been emailing interesting recipes my way, and she even gave me an Irish-themed cookbook because I was flipping through it and found instructions for making Guinness ice cream, quite possibly one of the best edible things on the planet. (Did anyone besides me buy a gazillion pints of what turned out to be a limited edition of the Ben & Jerry's version, circa 2006? The name -- Black & Tan -- caused a bit of a stink with Irish Nationalists, but boy was it yummy.)

Anyway, knowing that I love to bake and love Guinness, my friend sent me this recipe for Guinness Bread. Looks amazing, doesn't it? And the description of slathering it with butter and cinnamon sugar had me drooling. I decided to whip up a loaf last night, which required 2 bottles of the good stuff, since if I'm not getting it straight from the tap, I prefer the draught version with the widgety thingamajig inside that creates a better head of foam and those bottles are 11.2 ounces.

Thank goodness I got to enjoy the vast majority of that second bottle because that bread was TERRIBLE. The fresh version gave me a stomach ache and was the consistency of library paste. I wanted to believe the hype about the toasted version, but alas, the result was the thinnest of crispy coatings and the same gummy middle. I hate to waste food, and even more, I hate to waste a good bottle of Guinness, but the Boy Scout and I agreed that there was no saving this wreck of a recipe. There's a lovely yeasty starter blobbing away in the kitchen right now. Here's to a better outcome with the ice cream!

grey day, sunny outlook

I found this poem while engaged in the Sisyphean task of cleaning my home office last weekend and thought I'd share it with y'all. It conjured up the slow summer sunrises of London and renewed my faith that we humans are connected in ways we can't begin to fathom, but some of us keep trying to see. I hope it's as powerfully evocative for you.

Blake

I watch William Blake, who spotted angels
every day in treetops
and met God on the staircase
of his little house and found light in grimy alleys--

Blake, who died
singing gleefully
in a London thronged
with streetwalkers, admirals, and miracles,

William Blake, engraver, who labored
and lived in poverty but not despair,
who received burning signs
from the sea and from the starry sky,

who never lost hope, since hope
was always born anew like breath,
I see those who walked like him on graying streets,
headed toward the dawn's rosy orchid.

Adam Zagajewski
translated from the Polish, by Claire
in The New Yorker, August 13, 2007