I took Thursday afternoon off from work to join fellow urban agriculture advocates at a meeting of the OKC Planning Commission. We sat through nearly three hours of mind-numbing discussion before our agenda item — a comprehensive urban agriculture ordinance — was up for consideration. But it was worth the wait to hear the commissioners earnestly discuss matters of compost storage and rainwater harvesting. Most eagerly anticipated were the provisions allowing for backyard chickens: six hens per city lot! Sara Braden, a dedicated champion of the cause, spoke eloquently before the commission and expressed the group’s appreciation for the planning department’s efforts. The measure passed unanimously; next it goes to the City Council, with a vote tentatively set for December 31.
Some of my friends were more prepared than I for the grueling city meeting: Christine brought a novel and Sara had her crochet project. I decided to try out haiku, inspired by the matters at hand:
backyard food for everyone
gather, eat, repeat
gentle clucking soothes
cast seed sparkles in the sun
and the quiche is served
clean food, full bellies
nourishment just steps away
empower us now
And as the hours progressed…
testing endurance eyes glaze
faithful get restless
shut blinds prevent lust
for two hours of sunlight gone
now where is my book?
hard seats in the church
the congregation fights sleep
SPUDs are not tubers
My “summer of the pickle” turned out to be a flop. After my first tasty batch, the others were disappointing, if not inedible. I forgot to add a grapeleaf to the horseradish pickles and they were a mushy mess. The dill tasted off. Some of the pickles were mottled. While fermentation is an inexact art, I’ve been doing some research to try to pinpoint where I went wrong. This is the best troubleshooting guide that I’ve found. So far I’ve learned:
- Certain cucumber varieties turn to mush during fermentation
- Summertime fermenting might be destined to fail in my too-warm kitchen
- In addition to adding a grapeleaf (or teabag) to keep the cucumbers crisp, I should trim off the blossom end, which removes the source for the enzyme that causes things to go soft
- Sunlight or incomplete fermentation could cause discoloration.
What does a somewhat anal-retentive gardener do when she goes away for a week in the middle of growing season? This:
After all the planning, weeding, watering, and inherent hope invested in my garden, I felt a bit of heartache about abandoning it for a vacation. (But I got over it!) Luckily my new neighbor was willing to help out, so I created this to offer some guidance. (Overkill?) I’m not sure how integral my crude illustration was in Shawn’s watering success, but I was relieved to come home to my lush garden, cucumbers and tiny tomatoes on the vine, and the promise of more to come.
June 17 | I’m quite fond of the trellis I made from two T-posts snagged on bulk trash day, a stalk from last year’s Maximillian sunflowers, and hemp twine.
I’ve been daydreaming of traditional pickled cucumbers since reading this article last August about “the beauty of fermented foods.” I have grown and pickled slicing cucumbers before, but this year I wanted to grow chubby ones that would look so pleasing in mason jars labeled “dill,” “horseradish,” or “hot pepper” — each jar a new experiment in fermented flavors.
I unsuccessfully tried to start some plants from seed, so I was happy to find pickling cucumber transplants from Renrick’s Farm and Garden, via the Oklahoma Food Co-op.
July 13 (left) and July 16 | Batch No. 1: basic fermented cucumber pickles! After consulting Nourishing Traditions for guidance, I started with a brine of 2 T sea salt in about 3 cups of water, added about 1 T McCormick pickling spice, and two garlic cloves. To help retain crunch, I added to the jar two leaves from Brian’s grapevine. Then you simply leave them at room temperature for three days (or more, to taste). So good, and I’m just getting started. Watch out, Claussen!
My first batch of fermented radishes was delicious — crisp, savory, flavorful. I followed this recipe and the general fermenting tenets I’ve gleaned from reading Sandor Katz. I was looking forward to building on, or at least replicating, that success with my second batch; however, the slices turned to mush and have a faint unpleasant odor. I think my first misstep was using radishes that were past their prime, which is doubly sad since I harvested them 50 feet away from my kitchen. (Why the hurry to harvest, when I just let them get pruney in my frig?) Since I really enjoyed the flavor of the first batch, I thought to reuse the brine. Was that a mistake? Seems likely. I probably should have just added a few tablespoons to a fresh batch. I hope you more experienced fermenters will comment.
You can read about my other fermenting successes and failures here.