About this time last year a friend introduced me to Wild Fermentation. I was familiar with the title, but when he described the book as a life-changing read, I decided to finally check out the library’s copy, which had tattered edges and splattered pages. (I love getting a well-loved library book; it’s an instant bond with other nameless, but like-minded OKC residents.)

After scanning through the first third of the book — the part that explains the history and basic science of fermented foods (many of which are my favorite things: beer, sourdough bread, cheese, yogurt) and the author’s interest in them — I knew I needed my very own copy.

The first recipe I tried was for sauerrüben (like sauerkraut, but with turnips instead of cabbage), since turnips were in season and are pretty cheap. I picked up a couple of pounds from W Bar M at the OSU-OKC farmers’ market.

Feb. 20, 2011

Grated turnips and sea salt packed into a crock, covered and weighted.

Evidence of fermentation after three days.

I tasted the sauerrüben every day. I decided the flavor was right on day six, but the fermentation slowly continues in the refrigerator. My palate hasn’t quite adapted to enjoy sauerrüben on its own, but it’s a delicious complement to meats, especially barbecued brisket.

Combine the vinegar and the sugar in a large pot. Cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves. Arrange the whole pears, peeled but still with their stems, in layers in the pan. Boil, covered, over low heat for three hours, and then uncovered, for an additional three hours. Do not stir. Then, holding the pears by their stems, transfer them to jars or a stoneware pot. Cover the pears with the remaining syrup. Seal the jars. The pears will keep as long as jam.
Variation: Add one or two cinnamon sticks and a few cloves. Some recipes require less cooking: one and a half hours covered, followed by one hour uncovered.


Dessert pear and rice pudding

Dessert pear with cardamom whipped cream

While the process was pretty easy and fun, I think this was an instance when I simply should have enjoyed the raw fruit. The jars of amber pears looked lovely, but the contents left something to be desired. I couldn’t figure out what to pair them with, which led to more time and effort. Contrasted with canned applesauce or peach wedges, which are a hit without any additional effort, the preserved pears were an exercise in inefficiency. Perhaps I should create a food-preservation decision-making flow chart?

“This unctuous, giving gastronomic tool will become all chefs’ and cooks’ friend, finding untold uses in the kitchen. No fridge should be without its jar of Trotter Gear. … Nuduals of giving, wobbly trotters captured in a splendid jelly. One can sense its potential even now.“

—from A Healthy Jar of Trotter Gear in “Beyond Nose to Tail” by Fergus Henderson and Justin Piers Gellatly

I did sense the potential, but mostly I was intrigued by the seemingly magical ingredient listed in many of the book’s recipes. And how could I resist that delightfully descriptive language?

Even as I embarked on this cooking adventure, the ambiguous description left me unclear as to the end-product. I imagined it spread on a baguette. I actually planned on taking trotter gear to a potluck! However, I didn’t give the trotters enough time to cook, so I ended up resorting to Plan B: a carton of Braum’s ice cream. Thank goodness, because trotter gear is essentially a concentrated soup stock made gelatinous from the slow-cooked bones. It is pork jelly or aspic, and — I’ve learned — it is intended to add flavor and “mouthfeel” to sauces, gravies and soups, or perhaps a pot of greens.

I let the trotters cook until they were “totally giving,” about eight hours in a “gentle oven” (which I deciphered as 250˚). I did not have “nuduals of trotters.” The recipe directs the cook to pick off all the flesh, fat and skin, but I couldn’t find any flesh and decided against keeping the bits of fat and skin. I poured the liquid into jars. Once chilled, the fat rose atop the jiggly pork Jello. I scooped off the fat and reserved it for frying some greens pies. Or perhaps I’ll make some biscuits with it.

And a “healthy jar,” indeed! The recipe yielded about three quarts of trotter gear, most of which I froze. I shan’t be without trotter gear anytime soon.

Feet from Doug Hill’s pigs in Jones, Oklahoma.

I did take advantage of my neighbor’s bumper crop of jalapeños that she shared with me. I already have some roasted peppers in the freezer, so with this batch I turned to Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning to make pickled peppers.

Ugh, these photos are disgusting. Please bear with me until I can afford a real camera.

The jar on the far right contains peppers I pickled in mid-July.

Instructions for pickled peppers:
slice peppers
mix with copious amounts of salt
cover and refrigerate for 24 hours
drain on a towel or in a colander
fill jars with peppers
top off with vinegar
secure lid
let them set for at least one week
ta-da!

Not only is this book great because of its low-tech premise, but the “recipes” are straightforward instructions for assembling ingredients, which makes food preservation a lot more approachable. Guidance on traditional preservation techniques (salt, sugar, oil, vinegar, alcohol, etc.) is uncommon in this age of hyper-liability-conscious USDA food preservation manuals, and seeing these simple instructions in a formal (published) form, gives them credence.

Pickled garlic, pistou, basil vinegar, basil oil

I always plant too much basil, so finding new uses for it is a perennial task. What do you do with it? Last weekend I made “pistou,” the Provençal cousin of the Italian pesto.

Pistou
from Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning
1 large bunch of basil
4 cloves garlic
salt
1 c olive oil
small jars and lids

Grind the garlic and basil, add a pinch of salt and cover with oil. Mix all the ingredients well and spoon into small jars. The jars will keep very well for more than a year if kept in a cool place. I look forward to cooler weather when I can bake some bread to eat with my pistou.

With the remaining basil I made basil-seasoned vinegar and oil. I used a chopstick to shove the leaves into bottles and filled most of the bottles with apple cider vinegar. One bottle was filled with olive oil.

After I finished the basil projects, I started on the garlic. I put on some good music (Wilco, Neko Case, Neil Young) and went to town peeling garlic cloves. And then I took a nap. It doesn’t look like all that many, but it was time-consuming, and eventually, painful. I began to really appreciate the cloves with skin that slipped off in large, cohesive, crispy pieces. Were those a different variety, or just older? I’d like to know.

Look at the variety of shapes.

Pickled Garlic
from Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning
1 lb. garlic
1 quart water
1 T salt
bay leaves
black peppercorns
1 c vinegar
½ c water
¼ c sugar
a saucepan
small jars and lids

Peel the garlic. Boil one quart of water with 1 T salt. Add the garlic and continue to boil for 3 to 5 minutes. Drain the garlic. Fill small jars with the garlic, one bay leaf, and five black peppercorns. Boil the vinegar along with ½ c water and ¼ c sugar, pour this mixture over the garlic, and immediately close the jars. The garlic will keep for a very long time, and is particularly tasty in salads.

Check out my earlier post (as well as the comments) on vinegar-making for helpful tips and informative web links.