Wild Fermentation

Sandor Katz

About a month ago, the Beardsley farm team and I had the chance to attend a Local Food Summit in Nashville, TN. Sandor Katz was one of the invited guests, and led a brief fermentation workshop. In addition to demonstrating the process of making a radish kraut and talking about the history of fermented products, Katz explained that we are in the midst of a very misguided cultural moment that wages war on bacteria. "In fact," he exclaimed, "much of the bacteria that surrounds is is not harmful!" And by creating bacteria-killing agents, we are depriving ourselves of the beneficial bacteria that help us digest food more efficiently, or fight off diseases, or reduce our bodies' toxicity.  "We, more so than any of our predecessors, need to be conscious of re-populating our bodies with beneficial bacteria," Katz urged.

This is a very important perspective to foster in a time when sanitizing wipes and antibacterial soaps abound--we get so carried away with killing off microorganisms, that we forget how important they are to our well-being and survival. It was also helpful to be reminded about the plethora of different fermentation methods; as a canning enthusiast, I sometimes overlook alternative ways of food preservation. So maybe it's about time that I try making beet kvass, or something else outside of my usual repertoire...

I have had Katz's book Wild Fermentation for a year and a half--about as long as I've been seriously into the process of fermenting--and recommend it to anyone who is interested in the process of fermentation. Katz also has a forthcoming book that will be even more extensive in scope and cover fermentation practices from various cultures.

I am so very glad that I had a chance to meet Sandor Katz and hear him talk about the subject he is so passionate about. Here's to a new year full of beneficial microorganisms!

Sudden, red.

Karina, Jim with his fermented Tennessee Cherry peppers, and Sarah

This past Monday a group of AmeriCorps volunteers and I visited Jim Smith; because it was continuously rainy, we ended up helping Jim take care of things inside the house, rather than helping him on the farm. We readied peppers for the dehydrator and learned about their various flavors and uses.  Jim has had a difficult few years, as he is operating the farm alone. Nevertheless, he keeps going.

What I love about this picture is that while the women are working, Jim has opened a large jar of fermenting Tennessee Cherry peppers, and is smelling a spoonful of the spicy brine. It makes me think of a Robert Hass poem from Time and Materials.


The Problem Of Describing Color

If I said--remembering in summer,
The cardinal's sudden smudge of red
In the bare gray winter woods--

If I said, red ribbon on the cocked straw hat
Of the girl with pooched-out lips
Dangling a wiry lapdog
In the painting by Renoir--

If I said fire, if I said blood welling form a cut--

Or flecks of poppy in the tar-grass scented summer air
On a wind-struck hillside outside Fano--

If I said, her one red earring tugging at her silky lobe,

If she tells fortunes with a deck of fallen leaves
Until it comes out right--

Rouged nipple, mouth--

(How could you not love a woman
Who cheats at the Tarot?)

Red, I said. Sudden, red.

Tennessee Cherry Pepper

I've been taking the Tennessee Cherry pepper for granted. What I mean is--even though I dedicated a post to the hot sauce that we've been making with these fermented peppers, there was little discussion about the peppers themselves. I just thought everyone could visit their respective farmers markets, and get a handful or two of Tennessee Cherries. Or, surely, this was a pepper variety that was common in Tennessee, right? The more I talked with the farmer who was selling these tiny, intense peppers, the more I began to understand that he had created the peppers. One day, he explained that the bright red peppers I was purchasing that particular day weren't quite the Tennessee Cherry peppers, yet; they were what he called the "Tennessee Cherry, Jr.," or a plant that had reverted to the characteristics of the true Cherry pepper's predecessors. The Jr. pepper is a little bigger and not quite as smooth as the Tennessee Cherries I'd bought last October. Jim, the farmer, assured me that by next year, he'd have a true, open-pollinated Tennessee Cherry Pepper.

It's a little difficult to tell, but most of these peppers are smaller than a dime, and some are as small as a single elder-berry. They are very fleshy and seedy when cut, and pungent. The true Tennessee Cherry is more regularly ovoid, and the size of a pinto bean, or even a little smaller. I've never tried to eat the peppers raw, but they are quite spicy--spicier, I'd say, than a habanero; it may be even spicier than a Scotch bonnet, although I can't be sure. Jim actually grows all of those peppers, as well as the Bhut Jolokia chili pepper. 

I have used the Tennessee cherries in a salsa, and it's just about the spiciest salsa that I've ever made. As I mentioned earlier, I've also fermented the peppers to make hot sauce; the sauce is similar to the one that Jim sells at Market. He recommended that I ferment the peppers in brine made with salt and a sweet white wine (for 2 months), and blend with rice vinegar to make the final sauce. Once fermented, I blend only about a quarter cup of the peppers with 3 to 4 cups of vinegar and a pinch of salt; the resulting sauce is relatively thin, but tolerably spicy to us, and quite flavorful (we use a bottle with a pipette to apply it to our food). The flavor that comes through is a little peachy, and a little dusty, but not unpleasantly so. The fermentation and the mild vinegar give the hot sauce a nicely sour complexion without overwhelming the flavors of the peppers. 

I'm sighing a little as I write this--I think I'm a little bit in love with these fierce, tiny peppers. The flavor and intensity is one thing, but over the course of purchasing these peppers, I have developed a great respect for the farmer who grows them. I am so glad to know him, talk to him, and to be able to support his efforts in whatever small way that I can. 

A bottle of hot sauce and more peppers fermenting for the next batch.

Future Canning Classes

Aside from just a few things--kimchi ingredients.

This month's preserving workshop was a fantastic experience both for me and (dare I speak for them?) the people who attended. The change of pace from canning was really nice, as I had the chance to share with people my rather new-found passion for all things fermented--not just kimchi. Especially during the second round of the kimchi workshop, I got a few people excited about brewing their own kombucha! And as always, I got to spend time with some great people and talk about preserving, gardening, and all those exciting things that are on their way with the spring season.

Next month, there will not be a canning or preserving class because I am still in the process for looking for a new space, however, I have a few exciting prospects in mind, and will resume classes (maybe even have more of them) starting in May (just in time for strawberry season). I also recently acquired a pressure canner, and hope to be teaching a class using it sometime in June or July. Stay tuned--there are many exciting things under way.

Fermented Pepper Hot Sauce

In November, as the farmer's market season was winding down, and as there were fewer and fewer vegetables available at farmers' booths, we bought the hot sauce that would change our lives. Jim, the creator of the hot sauce, had sold us some of his jalapenos, which were some of the spiciest I've ever had; he also usually had a good variety of peppers available. And it was just something about that cool and cloudy day that prompted us to try some of the hot sauce (he dripped a little onto our fingers with a pipette); after one taste, we were hopelessly hooked on the stuff. It had a pleasant spiciness that intensified after a few seconds, and a slightly sour/complex taste that often accompanies fermented things. The flavor was also bright and tangy, and slightly sweet. I couldn't imagine 1) that I'd gone through life without this stuff and 2) that I used to not like spicy things. 


I liked the hot sauce so much, I knew that I had to try making some of our own, so we got some Tennessee cherry peppers from Jim. At his instruction, we went and bought a decent bottle of riesling, made a brine using the wine, and fermented the peppers in that brine for two months. After two months, we split up the peppers into 3 groups: one was frozen for later use, one went into making a simple hot sauce, and the third was blended with peaches, molasses, mustard powder, and other delicious things to make a sweeter, more complex hot sauce. 
Hardly a savory meal goes by without us using one of the hot sauces. Even though we made at least a quart and a half of hot sauce, we have gone through half of it already, and I'm glad that we have some peppers frozen, should there come a day when we run out. 


Tonight, we doused our southern-themed (sauteed collards, barbecue tofu steaks, and pumkin cornbread) dinner in the plain hot sauce. If you've never considered making your own hot sauce, I suggest admonish that you at least give it a go--you won't be disappointed with the results.

Kombucha

Kombucha is not photogenic. The kombucha mother is especially unattractive, but I thought I'd post about this anyway--partially because I can't help but feel a certain sense of pride for this grown-up kombucha mother. You see the thick, firm white layer? You see the nicely active fermentation bubbles? I grew this kombucha mother using a bottle of GT's kombucha, some tea and sugar.

I first heard about kombucha a few years ago, when I was eating raw for a week while Matt was away at Louisville, and I decided to try it, despite its price. I can't say that I loved it immediately, but there was something intriguing about the taste, and it reminded me of kvass--something that I used to drink during my childhood in the former USSR. So I kept coming back to it, buying it occasionally, as a little boost for a crummy day, or just because. On one of these casual acquisitions, a cashier at Whole Foods turned to me, just as I was leaving, and said, "You know, you can make this stuff yourself. It's not that hard."

I, of course, took that as a challenge, and became determined to make my own kombucha. I started reading about it, obsessing about it, looking up reputable dealers of the mother culture...and actually didn't do anything about it for over a year. I kept telling myself that I didn't have enough time to tend to kombucha, that I would somehow ruin it and let it mold, that I wasn't a fit parent. And then what?

Jars came along. I've written a little bit about how canning has changed the way I look at food; but it's not just about canning. Jars have changed the way I look at food. We buy more bulk items because I love storing them in jars. And once I acquired a few half-gallon jars, I just had to put them to use. One of them holds the granola that I make almost weekly, a few of them hold the mellowing liquors, and one of them is a dedicated kombucha jar. It wasn't until I had the proper vessel that I decided to brave the kombucha-making experience.

To grow the beautiful mother that you see, I bought a bottle of kombucha, dumped it into a sterilized half-gallon jar, and added two cups of strong black tea sweetened with a half-cup of sugar. Because I started the growing in the winter, it took about a month for the liquid to form a thin, but cohesive film layer. I added a few tablespoons of sugar every few weeks, to feed the baby culture, and two months later, I had a mother culture that was barely over an eighth of an inch thick, floating smugly atop the vinegary-smelling tea ferment. I may have rushed things a bit, but at that point, I started the production of kombucha--I poured off about 3/4 of the finished kombucha, then brewed about 6 cups of tea, sweetened it with half a cup of sugar (waited until it was at room temperature), and added it to the jar. And thus, every week for a couple months, now. I've even flavored small batches of kombucha with ginger-syrup! I'm glad that I gave it a try. If you would like, ask me in a couple months (when the mother culture is stronger yet,) and I can share a little baby SCOBY with you, too.

March Kimchi Workshop

The March canning workshop will be a little change of pace--instead of canning, we will learn a different skill: making kimchi. Kimchi is a spicy, tangy, and delicious Korean fermented cabbage mix.

The class is appropriate for any level of fermentation enthusiast. During the class, you will learn how to make kimchi, get started on a batch, and have a chance to talk about other fermenting projects. You will take home a container with a gallon of kimchi, jars in which to store the finished kimchi, and instructions/recipe.

$30 will cover the materials and ingredients.

Because of the limitations of the available space, I am capping this workshop at 6 people. You must reserve your space in the workshop through purchasing a "ticket" through the PayPal link (you do not need a PayPal account to buy). Also, RSVP to me to let me know you're coming.The workshop is on Sunday, March 20th from 1:30-4:00 PM, and will take place in my own South Knoxville kitchen: 969 E Moody Ave., Knoxville, TN 37920.

Please bring a cutting board and a knife to the workshop.

Please email me if you have any questions, or if you would like me to give you directions. I look forward to seeing you at the workshop!

Kimchi Love

We're relatively new to fermenting--I think that we made our first batch of Kimchi last October. Ever since we started fermenting, we have been in love with it. Previous to making our own, I wasn't very keen on store-bought kimchi; there are few kimchis out there that don't have anchovy paste, and the ones that are vegan were fine, but nothing I ever got very excited about. The flavor of home-made kimchi is just so much...cleaner. It's tangy, and sour, and salty in all the ways that I appreciate; and maybe it's because we control the duration of fermentation and the ingredients, I don't know. Once we made kimchi, and saw how incredibly easy it is, we expanded into sauerkraut, fermented pepper hot-sauce, and kombucha. There is literally not a day that goes by that we don't consume something that is a product of home-fermentation.

I've been talking to a few folks around town about a kimchi workshop for March (in stead of the regular canning workshop), and I think that by next week, I'll make that decision. I hope that circumstances line up, and that the workshop can happen, as I would really like to share kimchi-making with others.

Sharing

Recently, we had a few good friends over; we were playing a rousing card game, and somehow ended up a with this spread of food on the table. Even I was a little surprised at the variety of things we pulled out of our fridge for the tasting. And I was reminded (once again) how much I love to share food with others. Here are some things on the table: home-made granola; sauerkraut; white bean (Great Northern) hummus; coarse grain beer mustard; mini mincemeat pies and mini cranberry relish pies; pickled Spanish radishes; peaches in light syrup; samples from two different batches of kimchi. Hiding behind the metal bowl is a small jar of roasted pepper hot sauce that we made. The only thing we didn't make that is in the picture is the beer, chips, and the two different kinds of hot sauce (made from fermented peppers).

And of course, we are now in the process of fermenting peppers for our own hot sauce. I can't help but feel a sense of awe and pride at how much I've learned since last year. Humbly, I will proceed to learn more, to mark progress as I go.