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.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 8,000 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 7 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

To those who bravely till the ground
And those who make the wheels go ’round
To those who dig the coal and shale
To those who succeed and those who fail
To weak or strong, this word of cheer:
We wish you all a good new year
—author unknown, heard in late December 2010 on “Thistle and Shamrock”

The sun sets on the Wichita Mountains, Dec. 26, 2011.

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.

Mushroom Sauce
from Simply in Season by Mary Beth Lind and Cathleen Hockman-Wert (This is a great cookbook. Thank you, Christine!)

:: 3 T butter
:: 2 ½ c chopped mushrooms*
:: 1 c minced onion
:: 1 t salt
:: 7 T sherry or broth (use sherry!)
:: 2 T flour
:: 1 large garlic clove, minced
:: pepper to taste
:: 2/3 c water or broth**
:: 1 c sour cream or plain yogurt (room temperature)

Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add mushrooms, onion and salt. Cook uncovered for 10 minutes. Stir in sherry, then turn heat to low and slowly sprinkle in flour. Keep stirring for a minute or two after all the flour is in. Add garlic and pepper to cook and stir over low heat 5-10 minutes. Stir broth and yogurt into sauce, mixing well until it is completely incorporated and heated throughout. Serve over hot cooked pasta and top with freshly grated cheese. Fall variation: Serve over sweet potatoes or on toast.

*Don’t you hate it when there is an asterisk with no corresponding footnote? I promise to never do that to you.
To the matter at hand: I used dried golden oyster mushrooms from Om Gardens.
**I intended to use chicken broth for the sauce, but realized I could use the strained liquid reserved from reconstituting the dry mushrooms. It’s full of flavor and tastes earthy, delicious and nutritious.


The sweet potatoes roasted while I made the sauce and sautéed chard from my garden (thanks, Chelsey!).

Last night I used the last of my mashed potatoes to make something like Bittman’s garlic-rosemary potato fritters. Instead of garlic and rosemary, I used caramelized onions (which I cooked the night before to save time) and thyme. Some crumbled blue cheese would have been a fantastic addition; I found my fritters a little dull.

An aside: How I love fritters! Here are posts on pumpkin fritters, corn fritters, and zucchini fritters.

Onion-thyme potato fritters with Greek yogurt and some endive and olives.

Along the same lines, read this great essay by Tamar Adler about applying Thanksgiving-meal planning to everyday cooking:

We see in everything we buy and cook the promise of leftovers, and the makings of meals to come. … To cook sustainably, we need meat and vegetables to come in their own skins and on their bones and covered in their leaves, because they’re more economical and will leave us more to turn into future meals. We need to cook a bit more at once, and then do little cooking, and more adjusting during the week, which is often all we have time for, anyway.

Sounds a lot like someone I know.