food storage

Sauerkraut Update #1

I took a peek at the slowly fermenting cabbage today and decided that it wasn’t going to ferment fast enough. The pieces I cut were closer to 3/8 of an inch to ½ an inch, rather than the ¼ inch I described in the original post. My apologies.

I grabbed my biggest wooden spoon—mind you, it is in fact quite large—and proceeded to mash and bash the cabbage until it exuded more water. After 5-10 minutes, I stopped and replaced the bag. A nice brine now slightly covers the cabbage and things should go slightly faster. I’ll update in a few days!

Oh, and the smell is divine. Nice and pungent and cabbagey. Not gross, but definitely not sterile. I. Love. Food.

Crockpot Sauerkraut

There are few things more satisfying when eating than contrast. Crunchy, tart, sweet, sour, salty: sauerkraut compliments both itself and the foods it is commonly eaten with. When I lucked upon two heads of cabbage in my Growing Power Market Basket, it certainly wasn’t the first thing I thought to make. But with some research, and the promise of delicious lacto-fermented leaves of cabbagey goodness, I made my first batch this morning. This is definitely an in-process project, so I’ll write about the successes and failures in the weeks to come. Here’s how I started:

Ingredients:

  • 2 small/medium heads of lettuce, outer leaves removed, about 2 pounds each. Washed, drained, and halved. I used green, but both red and green is ideal. Oh, and get organic if possible, as pesticides kill the natural bacteria that are necessary for the fermentation process.
  • salt; I used Kosher, but pickling is supposedly ideal because of its grain size. Rock salt apparently works too. Also, avoid iodized salt as it will kill bacteria!

Equipment:

  • large, clean food-grade container. I used a large ceramic crockpot, though a bucket or crock would work. The sides should be as straight as possible.
  • a good (sharp) knife and cutting board
  • a plastic bag capable of holding water without leaking. I used a garbage bag, and washed the outside before using it, in case of residues.
  • water
  • a 50-60°F area; cool, dark, and handsome. Okay, the handsome part is ridiculous. Yet I won’t delete it.

Instructions:

  1. Cut out the core. I had never tried it before, and was extremely pleased to find that it had a similar peppery heat to mustard greens.
  2. With the flat face down on the cutting board, cut each half into quarter-inch strips. You can go smaller or larger; smaller should decrease the time it takes for the fermentation to occur, while larger should take longer. Makes sense.
  3. Layer the cut cabbage into the vessel with salt. For every two pounds of cabbage, use 1 tablespoon of salt. For the record, 1 tablespoon equals 3 teaspoons. Mix everything together with your hands. You did wash them first, right? Press the cabbage down with your hands. Some people even bash it, to bruise the cabbage and get it to start releasing liquid sooner. You don’t have to do this, as the salt will draw the moisture out—but you could try it especially for red cabbage, which is harder. Point is, compact it as much as you can so it is not at the top of the vessel.
  4. Partially fill the plastic bag with water. The bag is going into the vessel, on top of the cabbage to both:
    1. press out more water
    2. keep air and other debris out, which allows fermentation rather than rotting
    3. to allow the resulting CO2 an escape (through the tiny gaps around the perimeter, between the bag and the vessel).
  5. Once the bag is in the vessel, add more water till it sufficiently is weighing the cabbage down. What is sufficient? I’d say at least a gallon or three of water, depending on how much cabbage you’re using. I’ve got about 2 gallons in my bag. Tie the bag up!
  6. Let the pre-kraut sit in a cool area, out of direct sunlight, and away from critters.
  7. Lift the bag, checking periodically. I’m going to give mine a taste after a week. It may only take a week. Two seems to be the ideal, but it’s all up to your palate. It may even take up to five weeks, so use your senses.
  8. If something stinks or seems otherwise awry, it probably is. Ditch the kraut and call the doctor if you’ve eaten it and feel…off. As always, I take no responsibility for your kitchen creations, so don’t blame me!
  9. If everything seems good, eat! Decide if it needs more time, or if it has gone past its prime. When it tastes good to you, you can jar and refrigerate it, or even bag and freeze it for later.

I’ll post further developments as they occur! Peace.

Resources:

Beans, the Superfood of the Proletariat

These little fuckers should wear capes. Packed with iron, protein, folate and dietary fiber, few foods can match the boon that is beans. They’re also rich in other vitamins, minerals and yes folks, they contain the full array and amount of amino acids. Combine them with rice and you’ve got yourself a complex carbohydrate—and a meal that’s eaten the world over. Plus they make you fart.

What more could one ask for? Well fancy you should ask. I buy my beans dry rather than canned—either in bulk or pre-measured packs—and I do this for several good reasons.

  • Weight. I bike. To work. To friends’ houses. To the grocery store. Canned beans are packed in that weird goo, not to mention…a can. Both of these things are HEAVY. Bagged beans are dehydrated, so I get more for the weight. After soaking, reconstituting, and cooking, beans nearly triple in mass. Amazing.
  • Cost. This is somewhat related to reason one. A bag of beans and can of beans weighing roughly the same also cost roughly the same where I shop. In fact, usually exactly the same. Even in bulk they’re close. The dried will yield about 2½ more in mass than the canned. Et, voilà. Pound for pound, beans are some of the cheapest natural protein in the world.
  • Storage. I keep them bagged or in a sealed container. They take up less space than a can and generally last longer. Were I to stockpile dried, I could use them in whatever quantity I wanted. Try that with a can.
  • Processing. I like knowing how my food is prepared and I like buying it with the least amount of processing possible. This is how beans should get to my mouth:
    • Grow beans
    • Harvest beans
    • Dehydrate beans
    • Package beans
    • Transport

    That’s my sort of bean. None of that aforementioned goo. That the fuck is that shit anyway? Were I to grow them, I could eliminate the last three steps—maybe someday, but I’m not quite there yet.

Hopefully I’ve convinced you to at least give beans a chance. You might be tempted to give peas a chance too, but beans would give that legume a lashing of a lifetime. No offense, Mr. Lennon. I’ll post some bean recipes soon. If you’ve got a recipe or ideas to share, email me. If enough are submitted, I’ll try to post something in a similar vein.

Broccoli Soup, and Healthy to Boot

This one is simple. “A piece of cake” will now be referred to as “A pot of broccoli soup”.

You’ve been served

Inactive prep time: as long as your water takes to boil
Other prep time: 5-15 minutes
Cooking time: 4-5 minutes

serves: generally, 2-4 medium servings per pound of broccoli

Needed are 3 ingredients, bare minimum. They are: More >

The Well-Stocked Pantry

It’s not a pantry without a bunch of key items. I’ve listed mine in rough order of importance, the most used and versatile near the top. Mind you, this isn’t the same for everyone, but I think its a pretty good base (a bit sprawling, even). Also, this is stuff that generally doesn’t need refrigeration. And now, the list: More >