Picklefest 2008 at Machine Project, Los Angeles

I have been pickling veggies the lactobacillus way for a year now.

Fellow gourmand Kaeti Humphrey sent me the invitation to Picklefest 2008 at the Machine Project, a gallery in Echo Park and, of course, I jumped on it.

I arrived about 3pm on a fine Saturday afternoon to find a room full of fellow picklers toiling away. I brought in my materials bag and got oriented.
There were two long tables with both sides occupied. People were working away with cabbages, ridged cucumbers and all manner of veggies. At the back there were boxes full of the Mason jars we were going to use. At the front there was a cooler with spring water and containers of natural salt. It should be iodine free.

So I found a spot and, squeezing in, started my preparations. I had brought with me the following:
Some Persian mini-cucumbers with smooth skin, some Swiss chard and some baby carrots. This was the mix that ended up in the jar, with the Swiss chard being reduced to the stems only.

I didn’t have much to do: I partially peeled the cucumbers because that’s the way I like to treat them, trimmed off the carrots and separated the chard stalks from the leaves. I took one of the quart-sized mason jars and arranged the vegetables inside. I filled the jar till the water came over the veggies and then added salt. I didn’t measure it exactly but used two handfuls. The brine came out salty enough but not too salty. It was beginner’s luck. Putting the cap on the jar I upturned it a few times and could see that all the salt had dissolved.Then I took the jar home and watched carefully as the vegetables became pickles. It was easy.


The useful tip I learned was to put some food wrap in a ball at the top of the jar. This was to keep the vegetables underneath the surface of the water. I quickly found out that any vegetables exposed to air will go rotten.

Lacto-bacillus fermentation is anaerobic. The fermentation takes place without oxygen.
What happens when food ferments? Well the bacteria lactobacillus which are found everywhere including in the human body convert starches in the food to lactic acid. Lactic acid is a preservative and also has a refreshing sour taste. The appetizing flavors of sour-dough bread and yogurt are due to lactic acid.




So as long as you have the naturally occurring bacteria and you don’t allow in other bacteria that might give off-flavors the process should work fine.

As the fermentation takes place the sugars in the vegetable break down. You’ll see that over time the cukes change in texture. The cucumbers shown above were fermented for 6 days in the summertime in Los Angeles ( room-temp). The carrots took longer to break down; 10 days. You can taste when the pickles are ready and then it’s time to refrigerate. Leave them too long and they won’t be good. Some develop soft spots. But on occasions- when I consider the pickle too mild- I have brought the jar back out into room temperature and given them an extra two days. It increased the acidity and savor.



This fermentation is what produces two other famous pickled products: sauerkraut and kim-chee.

So my recipe goes like this:

2lb of Persian cucumbers
2 serrano chillies
2 peeled cloves of garlic
2 large handfuls dill weed
Salt……about 3-4 Tbs
Spring water to cover

Semi-peel the cukes. Its a zebra-stripe pattern down the cukes! It works!
Put them in the jar with the halved chillies, garlic and dill weed. Best prepare the brine outside the jar and then pour it on. You can warm the water a little if you like. Cover the little green fellows carefully with the brine. As mentioned a ball of film or a folded baggie on top will keep the veg under the surface which is most important.
I put the pickle bottle somewhere convenient then turn it every day and have a look. If it's working a slight white scum will form. Check the pickles every day and taste when there’s very little of the original light green color left. They should be tasty, salty but with a good acidity. They should have an even dark green shade.
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A Best Breakfast Ever story

Two years out of college and Tina Reynolds was ready for her big European trip.

So she set off from her home in California and in one jump she achieved a huge change in culture by arriving in Prague, capital of the Czech Republic. For the next two months she saw many more changes as she went from the Republic to Switzerland, Italy and then France.
In France she saw the sights: Toulouse, Marseilles, Grenoble as well as a weekend in Paris. The last part of her visit was to pleasant Normandie, on the north-west coast.
From there she left by ferry boat to cross the Atlantic to south-east Ireland. She got off the boat in the port of Rosslare and she was in the Emerald Isle. It had been a tranquil voyage with no seas rough enough to disturb the stomach.

By now this energetic American girl had done plenty of travel and toted her backpack round many Continental cities. She had jumped on trains and caught buses. She had experienced the inconveniences that beset all travelers and suffered varying qualities of food .
Eating mostly on the run the diet had been assorted but just recently seemed to have consisted exclusively of bread and cheese!
So arriving in the land of green she put her sights on her destination which was County Galway; all the way on the Western coast. To achieve her goal the friends hired a car and took off down the pleasant roads of Ireland.

About in the middle of Ireland , and pleasantly rural, is the village of Adare.
Adare is a traditional Irish town with a river, a castle, picturesque ruins and meandering streets of thatched cottages. The centre, of course, provides for the many shoppers. Businesses are agricultural-related with plenty of horse-chandlers and feed-stores. Adare has many renowned stables.

It has also become a centre for another kind of commerce having become famous as the wedding capital of Ireland. From around Ireland and the world couples descend on this County Limerick town, often described as “the prettiest village in Ireland” to tie the knot against scenic back-drops.

To continue our amazing breakfast story:
On arriving in Adare, in the late afternoon, the company sought a pleasant place to stay the night. They followed a recommendation and headed out to a B and B on the outskirts of the town.
Now B and B’s are the alternative to the hotel in many parts of Ireland. They are, of course, privately run and while offering less facilities than the hotels they make up for it with a more personal service. The one they had chosen was a large house set in some grounds with horse-runs, fences and jumps scattered around. A large horse-box stood in one corner of the parking area. Clearly the family had an equine-related business.

Settling in for the night, quite early, Tina had a sound and dreamless sleep. Up in the morning with her friends, they all trooped downstairs to find the dining room where they had had a brief meal last night.

The table was set for the six of them and looked glorious with country flowers in white jugs and silver toast-racks, standing proud and shiny like ships with their cargo of toasted plain and fruit soda-bread.
They settled in and helped themselves to glasses of juice from a side-board. Soon the hostess came through the swing-doors from the kitchen her arms full with laden plates. Tina looked up and anticipation sent a pleasant tingling sensation to her tummy. This was the first meal in such a pleasant and homely surroundings that she’d had in a long while. Perhaps since she left her home on the West Coast .

In due course the plate landed on Tina’s place-mat and she gazed at it. It looked yummy! A traditional Irish breakfast, of course, it included a fried egg and rashers of bacon, a sausage or two and, in a nod to the vegetable world, half a tomato. At the side of the plate was something Tina didn’t recognize- a dark circle that looked meaty but could it be some strange Irish mushroom? No! She soon found out it was a slice of the famous blood-sausage or black pudding. Black pudding and its cousin the white pudding are a mainstay of Gaelic cuisine: both are made from pork, black has the blood as well . Now Tina had some misgivings about this new breakfast item but on putting a piece in her mouth found that it was as delicious as the rest of the meal. Washed down with some good coffee; egg, bacon and the rest of the contents of the plate soon disappeared.
Our hostess was on the ball and, observing how fast Tina had polished off her plate, removed it and took off for the kitchen:
“I like a hungry girl!”
Emerging through the swing-doors the dynamic lady of the house put a second plate in front of Tina . This soon went the same way as the first. If anything it tasted even better and Tina’s satisfaction was growing by bounds.
“Whoof…Time for a break”. Tina headed outside to indulge her vice: a cigarette break and found herself looking at the horses in the field munching the grass. The younger son of the house came walking up to her. They exchanged a few words and he mentioned how happy she made his mum:
“My mum likes you a lot.” He said.

And indeed when Tina returned to her seat she found out that a third plate of food was awaiting her attention.
After a moment of doubt Tina knew she was up for the challenge and dispatched more egg and black pudding, then finished the meal off with a slice of toast and marmalade.” Its home-made!” the hostess remarked.
“And I’ll see you sweet lasses later for I have my shopping to do!!”

They were left alone in the dining room contemplating a full stomach and the bottom of a coffee cup.
And for Tina, at least, just one more cigarette outside on the porch. . She felt good…more than satisfied …… just complete . Totally at one with the world; and the velvety, brown horse looking at her.


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My Best Breakfast Ever

My best breakfast ever…
I remember it well. I can still taste the combination of crusty and creamy and sweet. It was a classically simple breakfast that I had assembled myself during a walk through a small village in the hills between Istanbul, sitting on the Bosphorus, and the border with Greece.
The scenery was magnificent: green hills stretched away to pine forests with some grey stone mountains above.
There was a timeless feeling about this small place as if yesterday Greek warriors had passed through in a marching phalanx. The day had started much earlier in Istanbul. I left the small hotel in the city and then came a walk, a bus and finally a ride in a stranger’s car. But it was still mid-morning and my appetite had been fanned by the combination of exercise, scenery and the excitement of the travel. The hunger magnified all the tastes. It enhanced the flavors and the satisfaction.

I was dropped off by my lift in the middle of town. So I wandered down the street and found places to shop. From one store I bought a large hunk of the typical local bread; a crusty sourdough with some large holes scattered through it. To go with it I searched out a pot of local yoghurt: creamy and tangy fresh. The topping that brought out the flavors of both was a portion of local honey. Runny and sticky, redolent of the pinewoods, it was totally awesome.
I soon found a spot by the roadside to eat and put down my backpack with my clothes that had seen thousands of miles of travel since I left the dusty Khyber Pass just a week ago.I had travelled all the way across Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey. Many bottom-breaking miles I had ridden across parched deserts in the most basic of buses with no suspension and the thinnest of covered seats. With no heating either many nights were spent on the road in wakeful discomfort. Only when the morning came and warmed the metal can on four wheels did comfort return and sleep came.
It had been a startling and amazing first introduction to the orient. My first travel outside Europe. We had seen many strange sights and woken up in the oddest places.

But my companions had fallen away with different itineraries. I was now headed back to England – home after a four week voyage of discovery. And there was a lot of university work awaiting me at Oxford.
Having found my breakfast niche with a flat stone on one side I chewed and I swallowed. I made fast work of that one-pound piece of dough. The sweetness of the honey satisfied some deep urge inside and the creamy curds lined my stomach in a totally satisfying way. Soon I was
scraping the bowl and looking for shards of the bread’s crust that had exploded onto my lap. Then I was done; satisfied, complete and ready to go forward on my journey.
The next few miles were easily accomplished with the new enthusiasm I felt. By the middle of the afternoon I was at the border bidding goodbye to the Turkish border guards and handing over my passport to the new ones from Greece. Soon I emerged with a stamp on it and started adjusting to the new language, different currency and local customs I was facing.
But a little closer to home now with only Europe to hitch-hike through!

The Best Breakfast ever- some questions

The Best Breakfast Ever (BBE)? It's that once-in-a-lifetime combination of events that brings you to a different appreciation of a meal. It's some strong influences that made this breakfast so very special that it stands out in your memory in technicolor even though it happened many moons ago. It's an event that comes in your
" Best of ..." category. It stands alone. How did it come to pass?
Here are some questions that may prompt your memory:


Can you describe your BBE?
Where was your BBE?
What were the circumstances that made this BBE so special?
What did the BBE include?
And the BBE ambience...why was that so special?
So there's a start to my enquiries. Reader- I want to know about your BBE.

Breakfast

Isn't breakfast just the most evocative meal of the day? It sets the tone for everything that's ahead . It happens as you are barely awake so there may be a lot of reaching into the fridge and just going with whatever comes out - oh carrots and bacon? OK!
Its a peculiar and individual meal. Many breakfasts are consumed alone and none the worse for that. But often it may be shared and enjoyed with that special someone. Then it also revolves on who is motivated to make it.Getting the kettle on may be a very good start.
Myself ,being a Brit, I am firmly in the substantial breakfast camp. Goodies like cooked meats ,eggs and vegetables-even remnants of yesterday's dinner- are all acceptable.
For that very special breakfast we must go into the fish/seafood territory- see later : kippers and haddock.

When I travel it's a challenge. Some venues in the world offer interesting alternatives- Congee in Hong Kong with abalone is an example. In other places there seems little on offer after coffee and pastry; (Gallic enthusiasts-you know that I'm talking about your shortcomings!)

And then there is a topic close to my heart. Its called the Best Breakfast Ever- and it is just that. We will be returning to this subject in the future so put your thinking cap on!