Pickled

So you know how last time I said it was way too hot to cook so I gave you a crockpot recipe? Well the last few days it's been too hot to even turn on the crockpot. Like tonight, I went to scramble an egg for dinner and couldn't even take it. In other words, sandwich and microwave time. (Except for two nights ago, when I set my toaster oven out on the back stoop to bake some stuffed summer squash. Yum.) And you know what goes great on those sandwiches and doesn't require any added heat at all? Pickles.

I just finished reading Michael Pollan's new book, Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation, on (surprise surprise) cooking, and all the anthropological/archaeological/evolutionary/biological/chemistry-ical issues surrounding it. I've been a Pollan fan ever since I read The Botany of Desire back in high school, and this one very much lives up. The first section is on roasting meat, with a focus on Carolina bbq (nom nom nom); the second is on soups and stews and braises; the third is on baking bread; and the final section is about fermentation of all kinds: cheese, alcohol, kimchee, pickles. It was the last that grabbed me the most, maybe because it's so far removed from the others: instead of an active process of chopping and adding and kneading and stirring, with the aid of a lot of heat and a bit of time, with fermentation the work is done by a (relatively) lot of time and a million micro-organisms, the same things other modes of cooking kills. There's all sorts of claimed health benefits about eating the kinds of live cultures (aka bacteria/fungi/etc) that live in fermented food (google "microbiome", or see Pollan's piece for the NYTimes magazine, or read anything Sandor Katz ever wrote), so that's cool. But I think what got me is the largely hands-off nature of the project: you're not constructing a product, or directly setting up a chemical reaction, you're creating the conditions for an ecosystem. And, ok, then eating that ecosystem. As Pollan says, it's less like cooking and more like gardening.

So a few days after I finished the book I'm walking around with fermentation on the brain, looking for an opportunity to try it out, when an article pops up in the Dining section of the Times about real lacto-fermented pickles, complete with recipe. And the day after than I find pickling cucumbers at the farmers' market downtown. Needless to say, by that night I had a batch going on my counter.

Any you know what? Pollan was right: there was something downright magical about the process. Lord knows I've seen some pretty sweet transformations enacted in my kitchen before: I've braised meat, baked bread, boiled bagels, made yogurt (successfully) and paneer (fine til I burned it), cooked a pile of tomatoes down into a pot of sauce and a pile of apples into apple butter, roasted Chinese duck and rotisseried Thai chickens and souped and stewed and chopped and sauteed with the best of 'em. But something about the time (3+ days) and the almost total lack of having to do anything combined with the fact that hey, you know that jar I set out the other night? There's something totally different inside it now, and it smells awesome - all that made it feel like something of a miracle. (Ok, the yogurt was a close second: rather less time, more stirring, less chopping, equally dramatic transformation, also technically fermentation. And granted he idea of bacteria doing something weird to food left out on the counter is hardly revolutionary - that's why we invented refrigerators. But still.) And yeah, the pickles were awesome.

Pickles!

Sour Dill Pickles.
These are fermented. In other words, no vinegar; all the work is done by the yeasts and bacteria on the skin of the cucumber and floating around in the air. No, it's not dangerous; according to Pollan the FDA has had zero confirmed reports of food poisoning from this sort of thing. The lactobacilli like the salt, and they out-acidify any nasty-making competitors. But do read Katz or Pollan if you're interested in the actual biology behind it, and don't eat it if it smells funny (rather than like pickles).

pickling (kirby) cucumbers
1tbsp (non-iodized) salt to 1 cup water (brine)
flavorings: smashed garlic
dill
caraway seeds
celery seeds
jalapenos
etc

1) Rinse the cukes in cold water. Wash out enough jars to hold them. (No need to sterilize, but do be sure they're clean.)

2) Boil enough water to completely cover the cucumbers in the jars. (May I recommend using an electric tea kettle to avoid heating up the kitchen while you're at it.) Dissolve 1 tbsp salt for every cup of water. Don't use iodized salt; that screws things up. Add a handful of ice, set aside and let cool to room temp.

3) Slice the cucumbers into spears or chunks. (Or don't.) Seed them. (Or don't.) Smash some garlic cloves. Chop some fresh hill, or get out the dried stuff. Slice some jalapenos. Or use whatever other seasonings you like, or none. Put the cucumbers in the jars, packed fairly tight so they don't float. Put in the herbs and things. Pour enough brine over top to completely cover the vegetables so they don't get moldy.

4) Set the jars in a dish (in case they bubble over) in a not-too-hot part of the house (good luck) and cover loosely with the lids. Watch and wait. After a day or so you should start to see little bubbles, and maybe smell something intriguing. After 3 days the water will be cloudy and you'll have pickles. Taste. If they're good, screw the tops on tight and stick 'em in the fridge. If you want them more sour, leave out for another day or two, tasting occasionally. Eat with a nice cold sandwich. Attempt with other vegetables than pickles if you're feeling adventurous.