Vast variety of pickles adds flavor – sans salt – to ‘Pickle Annie’s’ life

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By Jane Kwiatkowski Radlich | News Staff Reporter  – BuffaloNews.com

The metallic green nail polish says it all for Ann Jordan who is also known as Pickle Annie. Pickle-making is her pastime, and so far Jordan and her husband, Alan, have come up with 20 unusual pickle flavors they sell at various farmers markets in the area.

Their home base is Hubbard Road Farm, a sprawling space in rural East Aurora where each week 400 pounds of pickles are made – in flavors you could eat around the clock if you wanted. There’s Cinnamon French Toast, Eggplant Spread, Pickled Jalapenos and Buffalo Chip. Created for Jordan’s debut Labor Day weekend at National Buffalo Wing Festival, it tastes like a vegan chicken wing.

Jordan describes herself as a product of the ’60s, when she frequented the coffeehouse circuit with her guitar and sang Janice Joplin songs. She and her husband of 19 years met during off-road racing, and judging by the amount of vehicles in their barn and on the surrounding property, they could conduct their own rally. A small fleet of old Saabs provide wheels for their pickle delivery service.

They go through eight to ten bushels of cucumbers each week through October, when the market season finishes.

Jordan and her husband live on the farm with their four cats.

People Talk: Tell me about your childhood.

Ann Jordan: I probably drove my parents crazy because I’m into everything. I dragged a guitar around with me, and I looked like Janice Joplin because I used to have a pipe and the long hair so I was all over the place. It was the ’60s. That’s what you did.

PT: Where did you live?

AJ: I lived in a house my grandmother built on Potter Road in South Buffalo. She built her house by herself in the ’20s. I have a lot of my grandmother in me, I guess. My gramma was 83 when I knew her. While she built the house, my mother and her brother lived in a tent. It was a barn roof gable house. I wished I would have talked to her more.

PT: When did pickles come along?

AJ: I’ve had like 40 different jobs. I sold cars. I taught school. I was the director of social work at Hopevale. The list goes on. But three years ago, I was a door-to-door salesman for a cable television company, and my car almost got stolen. Somebody pickpocketed my keys and this guy had my door open, but he couldn’t drive a shift. I needed to find a new job.

PT: What about the pickles?

AJ: I was running the Lancaster farmers market at the time, and I thought that I would just make my refrigerator pickles like I always did. I thought they were really good because they don’t have any salt or preservatives. That’s how it started. And now we make 400 pounds each week.

PT: What’s so good about your pickles?

AJ: I make them flavored to taste like just about anything. I made Byron Brown a pizza pickle. I have a swamp pickle, an armadillo pickle. There’s a story behind every pickle flavor.

PT: Do you teach pickle-making classes?

AJ: Actually, at the Lancaster farmers market, we had a four-year grant from Ball (home canning supply company) and taught people how to can. They’re pickles. They are not that hard to make. They’re good for people with heart problems and diabetes. A lot of people with circulatory diseases can’t have salt.

PT: What’s their shelf life?

AJ: Two months, but they usually last a half-hour. One person went from the parking lot to her car, and she ate the entire container of pickles in about a half-hour.

PT: What is your business goal?

AJ: To be in Tops supermarkets by the end of the year. I want to make enough money so I can sell the business and walk away from it. I don’t want to work until I’m 90 doing pickles. I’m no Vlasic.

email jkwiatkowski@buffnews.com

Pickling days are here

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By Jesse Davis for The Farmers’ Market – published on grandrapidsmn.com

We are a long way off from Nov. 14, the official National Pickle Day, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping anyone at the Grand Rapids Farmers’ Market from picking up bushels of cucumbers along with fresh dill, garlic and the occasional hot pepper for homemade pickles.

As peak produce season continues, Farmers’ Market customers are also coming in for bulk orders of beans, cabbage and beets to put up pickles and kraut for the winter. It’s a given that our just-picked local veggies with their abundant natural sugars make the best pickles; that’s why folks wait until their favorite veggies are in season to buy them locally.

This tradition is one of our strongest points of culinary heritage. Like lemmings, we feel drawn to make these same batches of pickles to be savored later in the season, reminding us of our past with tastes and textures we’ve enjoyed since childhood with loved ones now passed on.

Have you ever tasted someone’s home made pickles only to be taken back to a forgotten specific place and time when you enjoyed the same flavor? I have; it’s both wonderful and a little eerie!

My late aunt Yvonne was a fantastic pickler, and I’ve included her refrigerator mustard pickles at the end of this article. For someone that always told me “Food is love”, I know Yvonne would be tickled pink to be remembered posthumously through her pickles.

Americans eat over 5.2 million pounds of pickles each year – most of them dill cucumber pickles. Indeed, that is what we instinctively think of when we hear the term pickle, and that has roots to the very beginning of pickles in India 4,000 years ago.

Cucumbers, native to southern India, were preserved for long trips at sea and for out of season eating. They expanded to both the middle and far east as a method of keeping food from spoiling and as a way to add flavor to fruits and vegetables.

Cleopatra is said to have attributed her diet of pickles to her good looks, and Julius Ceasar fed pickles to his troops to give them physical and mental strength. Personally, I think they were just pickleheads like you and me!

There isn’t an area on earth (well, maybe Antarctica) that doesn’t have it’s own variety of pickle, and many are quite a stretch from a kosher dill.

Pickled plums stuffed with sauerkraut from Hungary, pickled pig’s feet from Peru, pickled herring from Scandinavia, pickled eggs from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, pickled lemons from Morocco, pickled turnips from Romania, pickled mushrooms from Poland, pickled bamboo from Thailand, pickled mango from India, pickled tea leaves from Burma and fiery pickled cabbage or kimchi from Korea are but a brief overview of the tapestry of pickled foods from across the globe.

What is it about pickles that we love? Love is a many splendored thing, and if you look in many of our fridges and cupboards, you’re bound to see many preserved foods using a pickle-style process: olives, artichoke hearts, pickled jalapenos, sauerkraut, hot sauce, maybe a jar of beets or herring. Even ketchup is a kind of pickled sauce with it’s vinegar, salt, sugar and spice ingredients.

First off, pickles are salty. As home kraut and kimchi makers know, salt is the magic ingredient that draws liquid from the cabbage, thus starting the fermentation process that gives that wonderful tart acidity and healthy probiotics. That salt helps season the foods they’re paired with, and also help stave off food cravings.

Speaking of acidity, that tart sour flavor is another thing we love about pickles. The sometimes heavy foods that are a Northwoods staple like roasts, sausages, burgers, hams and fried fish need a little acidic zip to help cleanse the palate and make the last bite taste as good as the first.

Salty and sour are balanced by sweet and spice, whether aromatic or hot. Pickled beets may get cinnamon and allspice and a healthy dose of sugar, while bread-and-butters might get hot peppers and garlic along with their sweetness.

No wonder we like to put some form of pickles on sandwiches. An old American saying goes, ‘Bread and butter without a pickle is like an itch without a tickle.’

Folks make fermented pickles, hot-water-bath canned pickles and the simplest of all, refrigerator pickles.

But if cooking up big pots of spiced vinegar, firing up the pressure cooker, or sterilizing the old 80-pound stone crock aren’t in your summer itinerary, there’s no need to fret. Vendors are making pickles from their own produce too, and there’s a stunning array of options to choose from.

Indeed, we even have local pickled fish, along with dilly beans, pickled peppers, kosher dills and pickled garlic scapes. There’s plenty of sauerkraut too, made from local, sustainably grown cabbage just waiting to be heaped on a hand-made Market bratwurst.

Plan a visit to the Grand Rapids Farmers’ Market and keep our culinary traditions alive: get some fresh picked veggies and try an old family recipe. Expand your palate and try a new recipe like kimchi made with local napa cabbage. Or simplest yet, come down to our new location next to Glen’s Army/Navy and pick up a few jars of lovingly crafted local pickles and bring salty, sour, sweet and spicy flavors to your next meal. We’ll be waiting for you Wednesdays and Saturdays from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Aunt Yvonne’s Deliciously Easy Mustard Pickles

4 quarts small (2-3 inch) cucumbers

2 quarts vinegar

½ cup salt

½ cup dry mustard

1 cup sugar

Optional additions: dill seed, chili peppers, garlic, onion, horseradish, peppercorns

1. Pack 4 quart jars with cucumbers. Or use any plastic tubs or containers you wish. If you have larger cukes, cut them into 3 inch pieces.

2. Mix all other ingredients together, heating gently in a saucepan, if necessary to dissolve sugar. Allow to cool.

3. Pour mixture over cukes, covering completely. Allow to rest in refrigerator for at least a week, stirring occasionally, for best flavor. Enjoy for up to six weeks.

Note: This recipe also works well in ½ batches

Candied Jalapeños

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by Rececca Gagnon – Journal Sentinel

 

  • Description:  Rebecca Gagnon, author of “The Little Book of Home Preserving” (Peter Pauper Press, 2013), said she “can never get enough of” these Candied Jalapeños, which she makes every year.“They can be used on practically everything — from tacos and nachos, to eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches,” she writes.
  • Makes:  about 7 pint jars

Ingredients:

2 cups apple cider vinegar
6 cups granulated sugar (or use raw sugar instead — it will make a darker syrup)
3 pounds firm, fresh jalapeño peppers, sliced about 1/8 inch thick (room-temperature peppers are best)

Preparation:

Wash canning jars in hot soapy water. Prepare an extra jar or two over the yield, in case you have more than you expect.

Sterilize the jars by submerging them in water in a large pot (or water bath canner), bringing them up to a boil, and keeping them at a boil for 10 minutes. Then keep them warm until ready to fill. You can either keep them in the water (bringing it down to a simmer) until you are ready to fill them — at that time remove them with a jar lifter and drain each jar individually — or you can keep them in the oven, at 250 degrees (remove the jars from the water bath after boiling and place them on a baking sheet and keep them in the oven until ready to be filled).

Prepare the rings and lids by placing them in a small saucepan with enough water to cover. Bring them to a bare simmer, cover the pan, turn off the heat and let them sit until ready to use. Be careful not to boil the lids, as it can cause the seals to break down.

Bring your water bath up to a boil (you’ll have leftover water from the sterilization process, but you may need to add more to ensure that you’ll have enough water to cover the jars by 1 to 2 inches).

In a preserving pot set over medium-high heat, bring the apple cider vinegar and sugar to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes.

Add the jalapeño pepper slices to the pot. Turn up the heat and bring the pot back up to a boil, and then reduce heat and simmer 4 minutes.

Set out the warm jars, and use a slotted spoon to transfer the jalapeno peppers into the jars to within ¼ inch of the tops. (Keep the remaining syrup in the pot.)

Heat the pot on medium-high heat, and bring the syrup to a full rolling boil. Boil hard for 6 minutes. (The syrup should reach about 220 degrees.)

Ladle the boiling syrup into the jars over the jalapeño slices, distributing equally among the jars. Insert a chopstick (or a small icing spatula), into the bottom of the jar two or three times to release any trapped pockets of air. Adjust the level of the syrup if necessary, to keep the jars full to within ¼ inch from the tops.

Use a lint-free cloth dipped in clean water to wipe the top of the jars, and then apply the lids and rings. Tighten rings only to “fingertip tightness,” which means do not tighten too much, but tighten enough to be snug. Air needs to be able to escape the inside of the jar.

Load the filled and covered jars upright into the water bath. Bring the water bath back up to a boil and process for 15 minutes. Begin timing after a full, rolling boil has returned.

Turn off the heat and remove the jars (with tongs or jar lifter) to a towel-lined counter top. Listen for the lids to “ping,” which will happen as the jars begin to cool and the seals are formed. Do not touch or disturb the jars until they are completely cool (12 to 24 hours).

Remove the rings from the jars and check the seals. The lids should not buckle up and down and you should be able to lift each jar carefully by its lid only. Store the jars in a cool dark place (without the rings on) for up to one year.

Note: Don’t forget that jalapeños pack some heat, so there are some precautionary measures you may want to consider. While slicing the jalapeños, you might want to wear plastic or rubber gloves — the heat can irritate your skin. Also make sure to work in a well-ventilated area when preparing this recipe.

The vegetable you should start pickling ASAP

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from:

by Alexandra Stafford

Last summer I was lucky enough to be the recipient of a friend’s backyard vegetable bounty. Nearly every week I could count on opening my front door to find a basket teeming with beefsteak tomatoes, cucumbers, snap peas, chard, kale, and tubs of Sun Gold cherry tomatoes. I could also count on finding, snuck below the tomatoes and peas, a few dozen zucchini affixed with a Post-It note reading: “Sorry!”

(Alexandra Stafford/Courtesy Food52)

It’s a familiar cry during the summer, but I wasn’t about to complain — I could only hope to find anything as prolific in my garden. And besides, with so many resources out there now, should anyone fear the onslaught of zucchini this summer? From butter to quickbreads, pancakes to gratins, we know how to quickly pare down our haul.

(Alexandra Stafford/Courtesy Food52)

And here’s one more to add to your arsenal: pickles. This recipe comes from The Zuni Café Cookbook, which credits the pickles’ intense, saturated flavor to “careful purging” and cold brining: Soak slices of squash in a salt-water brine to draw out its water and cause it to soften. After one hour of this “purging,” the squash is primed to better soak up the brine. Remove the squash from the salt bath and then submerge it in a mixture of vinegar, sugar, dry mustard, mustard seeds, and turmeric. Leave them like this for a day in the fridge, and they’re ready.

 

(Alexandra Stafford/Courtesy Food52)

In the preface to the recipe, Judy Rodgers notes that this isn’t the recipe (unfortunately) to turn to when you’ve inherited one too many zucchini baseball bats, nor is it a good use for expensive fingerling or baby zucchini. Rogers suggests using firm, medium-sized zucchini or green pattypan squash.

On their own, these brilliant yellow, tangy pickles are on the sweet side, which concerned me initially. But after weeks of watching friends and neighbors gobble them up with burgers and sandwiches, I stopped thinking about cutting back the sugar — there is, after all, a reason these pickles accompany every burger at Zuni Cafe. The next time you find yourself with a glut of zucchini, think about preserving them — they’ll never disappear so quickly.

(Alexandra Stafford/Courtesy Food52)

Choosing, storing, and prepping your zucchini: Look for zucchini with smooth, unblemished skin that feel heavy for their size. Small- to medium-sized zucchini are ideal — large ones tend to be seedy, watery, starchy, and less flavorful. Store them in an open bag in the vegetable bin of your refrigerator and use within a week if possible. Zucchini can be dirty, so before using, wash to remove any grit clinging to their skins. Trim off each end; no need to peel.

After you’ve put up your pickles, here are a few more ways to use your zucchini:

(Alexandra Stafford/Courtesy Food52)

Zuni Cafe zucchini pickles

Makes 1 1/2 to 2 pints

1 pound zucchini
1 small yellow onion
2 tablespoons salt, a little more if using kosher
2 cups cider vinegar
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons dry mustard
1 1/2 teaspoons crushed yellow and/or brown mustard seeds
1 teaspoon ground turmeric

See the full recipe (and save and print it) here.

This story was originally published on Food52.com: The vegetable you should start pickling ASAP

London is in a pickle: meet Freddie Janssen, the kimchi queen making preservation cool

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Jarring: Freddie Janssen with her pickles Rebecca Reid

What do you picture when you picture a pickle — probably the soggy sliver of cucumber fished from your 2am McDonald’s? What you probably don’t are neon-pink plums, coffee-pickled beetroot, or “monster” kimchi hot sauce.

But you should. Pickles are having a moment. Every restaurant worth its brine boasts home-ferments. The “eat clean” Twitterati screeches of their bacterial benefits from the virtual rooftops. Instagram is filled with photos of adorable, cucumber-packed Kilner jars (#nofilter). And tequila shots have been pimped into picklebacks (chase your tequila with a shot of pickle juice). Yep, the art of preservation, says Freddie Janssen of F A T pickles, is finally shedding its “naff identity”.

With her bleached hair, vintage denim jacket and pewter knuckledusters, Janssen, who lives in Lower Clapton, is no Fifties gingham-clad housewife boring visitors with her preserve collection. “Naff” she is not. Two days before a photo-shoot for her as yet unnamed pickle book, published by Hardie Grant, her kitchen is perilously stuffed with bubbling jars. A misplaced elbow would trigger a brine-storm. “My flatmates have nowhere to put any of their food because I’ve been experimenting with so much new stuff,” she says.

Hailing from Maastricht in the Netherlands, Janssen grew up on pickles. “Because it’s so close to Germany, whenever you go for a beer they serve you a pickle on the side. You go to these dungeon bars and trays of massive juicy pickles go past.” Then there are the snack bars, always with a big old jar behind the counter, “filled with yellow, turmeric-sweet Amsterdam onions”.

AN78152249Freddie Janssen p.jpg
Art of preservation: Freddie Janssen’s pickles

When Janssen began running supper clubs three years ago, brined veg was obviously going to feature. “To me it’s one of the nicest things that you can snack on with a drink: it’s salty, it’s savoury, it’s refreshing.” Her pickles were then picked up by Hackney institution Rita’s.

Specifically, they wanted Janssen’s vegetarian kimchi. The fermented cabbage — essentially Korean sauerkraut — is traditionally prepared with fish sauce and so is unsuitable for veggies. she adapted it, upping that critical umami factor with sesame and soy sauce. From that came her famous kimchi hot sauce: “a monster. It just doesn’t stop fermenting!”

Terrifying but unlikely to deter the kimchi cult. Because London is embroiled in a kimchi K-hole, beating off kale as the hipster’s favourite veg. In Korea, the condiment is eaten with rice, stews, any vegetable or meat — everything, in fact. Except cheese toasties. Step forward Freddie. Her Stilton kimchi toasties have a dedicated following at Druid Street Market. The uninitiated are always dubious. “People say ‘it’s insane. You shouldn’t be putting kimchi in a sandwich’.” Presumably they quit moaning once they’ve got a hunk of the insanely moreish sandwich in their mouth.

Such maverick flavour combinations are instinctive. “I understand pickles. I’m not scared to experiment. It’s all about really beautiful produce — and who doesn’t love a cheese sandwich and a pickle?”

Nowhere is “beautiful” so often used to describe veg than in pickling circles. Janssen raves about the “beautiful” Chegworth Farm cucumbers in her favourite, the classic dill pickle. “I’m trying to get the last ones before they go out of season,” she says with the zealous urgency of one itching to go to the greengrocer.

Vegetables are obviously key, and the popularity of pickles owes much to the perceived health benefits. Fat-free but flavour-rammed, they’re a dieter’s dream, while devotees extol the virtues of the good bacteria released by fermenting, which allegedly aid digestion and immunity.

Try not to neck that whole jar of gherkins though. As Janssen points out, brined pickles are “packed with salt and sugar for extra flavour”.

Health benefits be damned — if anything can cure a childhood fear of cabbage, it’s FAT’s patented Stilton and kimchi sarnie. Fight you for one at Druid Street!

@franklymccoy

PICKLE PIONEERS

There are plenty of other picklers getting down and dirty with brine and vinegar. Here are three of the best

Kylee Newton – @newtonandpott

These are holistic pickles: preserving for Kylee is all about wasting less and eating seasonally. Not that Newton & Pott products are just for the hair-shirted: gin pickled cucumber is made for noshing with a generous martini while perusing her new book, The Modern Preserver.

Nick Vadasz – @vadaszdeli

Nick is known in food circles as The Pickle Man. A Hungarian heritage is responsible for his addictive sweet-and-sour veg — the Vadasz Deli garlic dill sauerkraut is so good that Monty’s Deli will use nothing else in its famous Reuben sandwiches. Find him at Brockley and Borough Markets.

Josh Katz – @berberandq

How to power through the rich, oleaginous smoked meat at Haggerston’s Berber & Q? A cleansing dose of chef/owner Josh’s pickles — the Moroccan-American menu has a dedicated section. “I liked the idea of ordering your chosen pickle as you would a shot or glass of wine,” he says. Cheeky round of turmeric cauliflower, anyone?

Cantaloupe among the fruits that gained pickling popularity in the 1800s

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Hanna Raskin Email @hannaraskin – The Post and Courier

If Charleston’s amateur pickle makers didn’t rush to their gardens and markets in search of preservation-worthy melons after reading a cooking column in the July 1, 1917, issue of The Sunday News, the columnist’s derisive tone was probably to blame.

“Here is a sweet pickle recipe for cantaloupe,” groused the author of Mary’s Housekeeping, styled as a conversation between a mother and daughter. “I don’t care for it very much myself, but there are others who are quite fond of it, so I am giving it to you anyway.”

R.J. Moody, chef at Spero restaurant.
Enlarge R.J. Moody, chef at Spero restaurant. Wade Spees/Staff
The daughter was unimpressed: “I believe I’ll just take my cantaloupes plain, if you please.”
But as the columnist noted, cantaloupe pickles — often likened to watermelon rind pickles — were wildly popular in certain circles. Considered a guaranteed extension of summer, the pickles were relatively easy to make and elegant enough for stylish luncheons.

The background
Pickling is practiced around the world. According to “The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink,” ancient Mesopotamians were well-acquainted with the concept of preserving food in spiced saltwater brine. In North America, indigenous people pickled meat in maple-sap vinegar.

Each culture has its pickle preferences. The sour pickles central to Eastern European cuisine, for example, were overshadowed in Western Europe by sweet pickles. Yet despite the British taste for pickles made with sugar syrup, pickle scholars say the success of the American sweet pickle should be credited to the Pennsylvania Dutch. The German immigrants, who settled around Philadelphia in the early 1700s, practiced a style of cooking that was predicated on the constant balance of sour and sweet, a philosophy that led to frequent tabletop appearances by gherkins.

During the 19th century, cookbooks regularly listed recipes for pickled fruits. While protecting delicate strawberries and grapes from spoilage in the pre-refrigeration era was the primary goal, home cooks also recognized the inherent magnificence of what blooms briefly in summertime. “Cantaloupes now rank among the real aristocrats of the food world,” Louise Gunton Royston in 1916 advised readers of Table Talk: The National Food Magazine.

The recipe
Royston suggested turning cantaloupes into sherbet, salads, preserves and pickles, boiled in a sugar-heavy solution of vinegar, cinnamon and cloves. Most contemporary recipes featured the same set of ingredients, although one of the three cantaloupe pickle recipes published in 1879’s “Housekeeping in Old Virginia” called for the melon to be boiled in “strong ginger tea,” and then seasoned with white ginger and mace, in addition to cinnamon.

Cinnamon and cloves were the spices included in The Sunday News’ recipe, which also specified cider vinegar and “Coffee C” sugar, apparently a brand produced by sugar manufacturer Stuart’s.

The update
“It was great,” says RJ Moody of Spero, who followed the original recipe pretty faithfully. “It’s very much like other fruit pickles I’ve made.”

Because the cinnamon and cloves reminded Moody of pho, a problem that likely didn’t afflict Charlestonians in 1917, he spiced the pickles with burnt ginger that he happened to have on hand.

Moody is considering developing a dish around the pickles next year.

“I’d definitely want to do something with country ham,” Moody says. “It’s a little on the sweeter side, which cries for salt to balance it out: It screamed like it needed pork.”

Published July 1, 1917:
Select melons that are not quite ripe; open, scrape out the pulp, peel, slice and lay in a weak brine overnight. The next morning boil in a weak alum water till transparent; lift out, drain, wipe dry, then drop into boiling spiced syrup and cook 20 minutes. To make the syrup, take three pints “Coffee C” sugar to one quart good cider vinegar. The spices commonly used for this variety of pickle are cloves and cinnamon, and the proportion two teaspoonfuls of the former and four tablespoons of the latter to each gallon.

Homemade Zucchini Pickles—No Joke!

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BY STACY DERMONT – www.danspapers.com

Why do you lock your car doors in the Hamptons during the summer? If you leave your car unlocked, someone might fill it with zucchini.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the summer squash in your garden, do what I do and pickle ’em. They’ll look really appealing this winter, I promise. And they make a great gift. I gave some of these pickles to my friend Gael Greene last month and she insisted that I share the recipe. Here it is:

Zucchini

Zucchini Pickle

2 pounds thinly sliced zucchini (or yellow summer squash)
1 medium onion, quartered and sliced
¼ cup canning salt
3 cups cider vinegar
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons yellow mustard seed
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon turmeric

Yield: about 2 pints

Dissolve salt in a quart of cold water in an earthenware bowl. Combine squash and onion in bowl. Add water to cover. Let stand at least one hour, up to two hours. Drain, rinse and drain well.

Combine remaining ingredients in a large saucepot. Bring to a boil. Turn off heat. Add vegetables. Let stand one to two hours.

Zucchini

Bring all ingredients to a boil; reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes.

Pack hot vegetables into hot, prepared canning jars. Pour liquid into jars leaving 1/4” headspace. Place lids and rings.

Process 15 minutes in a boiling-water canner.

Let pickle age at least two days before serving to develop flavor.

Enjoy!

Opinion: Pickling is in my genes

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Published on: August 23, 2015

One day last summer, I ran into my friend Caroline at the grocery store. My cart was filled with two cases of large canning jars. Caroline asked, “What’s up with all those jars?”

“Pickling!” I said as I reached into my bag for my iPad. “I have photos!” No pet poses or kiddie pics for me. I have pickling porn — luscious close-ups of jars of dill pickles, beets, carrots, peaches and tomatoes.

“Wow, it takes so much time. Why don’t you buy one of those big jars of pickles at Costco?” said Caroline. “Who wants to be in the kitchen all day?”

I explained to her about the tradition of putting food away for the winter and how good it felt to have a full pantry. She looked skeptical as we bid each other goodbye.

Pickling is in my genes. There is something enchanting about pickling fruits and vegetables at their summer prime to enjoy in the winter.

I started to preserve 30 years ago when I decided to make jam to give away as Christmas gifts. I was a poor graduate student and my homemade jars filled with jewel-toned jams were a hit. I could only dream of pickling in my diminutive kitchen. My friend Ian, descended from a long line of prairie picklers, had a real kitchen. We entered into a pickling pact. We would split the costs of the ingredients, pool our labour and divide the jars between us.

We started with garlic dills. Things went smoothly and at the end of a long day we proudly placed our jars of pickles to ripen in the back of Ian’s bedroom closet. A few weeks later Ian woke up at 3 a.m. to a strong foul smell. Our pickles had fermented and the gas was causing the brine to seep out onto the floor. A call to Ian’s mother identified our mistake: we hadn’t processed them long enough. Chastened, we forged ahead, producing mustard pickles, chutney and canned tomatoes. Each summer we lugged bushels of pickling cucumbers, tomatoes and other vegetables by bus from the farmer’s market. My frequent business trips to Asia and Africa did not invalidate the pickle pact. One year, just back from Bangladesh, and scheduled to leave for Zambia within the week, I spent the whole weekend canning tomatoes.

Then I moved to Africa. I gave away my jars and distributed pickles to friends. Pickling didn’t jibe with life in the tropics, where there is no winter to preserve for. Three years in Africa were followed by seven years in Asia. For a decade, my pickling and preserving genes lay dormant.

After 10 years abroad I returned to Montreal and a kitchen too small for canning. Ian had moved to San Francisco. I was busy. Then one day I ended up at the farmer’s market. Soon six jars of blackberry jam were sitting on my kitchen counter. Blueberry jam, dill carrots and peaches followed. The next year I tried chili sauce. By then I had a boyfriend with a big kitchen. Size does matter! One day he came with me to the market. Love works in mysterious ways and before he knew what was happening, we had made 12 jars of pickled beets.

I married the pickled beet-making boyfriend. Our pantry is full of jars of peaches, beets, tomatoes, watermelon rind pickle, blueberry syrup and dill pickles. Canning is lots of work. But, on a cold snowy February day, when I go down to my pantry, take a jar of tomatoes off the shelf, bring it upstairs and open it, the aroma of tomato and basil fills the kitchen. The calendar says February but in my kitchen it’s summer again. I know that soon the summer pickling cycle will start again.

My pickling gene lies dormant no more.

Mariam S. Pal lives in N.D.G.

12 jars of Texas pickles: Some we relished, others were no big dill

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Emma CourtThe Dallas Morning News

Running through a cool sprinkler, hearing the sizzle of a burger on the grill, seeing the faint outline of a flip flop tan: Of the summer traditions, there’s none quite like biting into the perfect pickle.

That summer staple — which uses fermentation to preserve the cucumber crop — has a peculiar pleasure all its own: the crunch, the sour scent, the vinegary bite. Done right, a pickle can elevate a sandwich, burger, salad or wrap. Some even merit being eaten on their own. And yet, if executed poorly, pickles can easily leave a sour taste in your mouth.

We did the legwork for you, surveying the best pickles this Texas summer has to offer.

Our pickle consortium, made up of interns Connie Lee, Wynne Davis and me, tasted 12 kinds, sourced from high-end restaurants (Front Room Tavern) to farmers markets (T-Rex Pickles, Taste This Pickle) to gas stations (Buc-ee’s).

See which we relished and which were no big dill.

Spicy Chicken Pickle, Taste This Pickle, $12

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Of the 12 we tasted, these were the fan favorite. Spicy, with a surprisingly strong chicken flavor and a powerful pickled taste, Davis described them as “so good.” I could easily eat a whole jar in a day; my colleagues agreed.

House Pickles (Giardiniera), Front Room Tavern, Dallas, $10.83

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

This pickled mixture included various vegetables (although no cucumbers) and was one of the better pickled items we tasted, with a mild spicy edge and an enjoyable crunch factor. “Good” was the adjective of choice around the tasting table. But they were not life-changing.

Garlic Pickles, T-Rex Pickles, $10

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

A pickle by any other name would taste more garlicky. Our tasters said the garlic flavor was really only present in the aftertaste, though they did like the pickle’s crunch. Maybe they’d be better in a sandwich, I mused. Lee and Davis, however, were unimpressed. Davis said the pickle was “too much like a cucumber.” (And yes, we know pickles are made of cucumbers.)

Spicy Garlic Pickles, Jimmy’s Food Store, Dallas, $5.99

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Confusing: That’s this pickle. Despite the name, and although there was a spicy presence, this pickle was surprisingly sweet. Everyone agreed that the texture was “weird.” Even so, Lee pronounced the pickles “good.”

Habanero Chunk Pickles, Jimmy’s Food Store, Dallas, $6.99

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Living up to their name, these pickles were unilaterally pronounced both spicy and “so good.” They were crunchy, vinegar-y, tangy and had spice, Lee said. Two of us would buy them again.

Jamaican Sour Gherkins, T-Rex Pickles, $7

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Even still in the jar, these pickles provoked strong reactions, including comparisons to “alien babies.” Though the primary objections to the pickles seemed to be the gherkins themselves — baby cucumbers, which had the texture, though not the taste, of cherry tomatoes — the tasters also thought the gherkins weren’t pickled enough. Lee called them “soggy.” Then Davis: “Nope.”

Gourmet Cucumber Salad, Taste This Pickle, $10

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Our tasters enjoyed these ones, which had mild pickled flavor and a little spice on thicker cucumber slices. They might be a good addition to a salad, Davis suggested. Lee wanted more crunch.

Habanero Pickles, Oma’s Choice, $6

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Living up to its name, this pickle was incredibly spicy. “Good but super sour and spicy. Pretty intense,” Lee said. “I like it but I wouldn’t buy it.”

Whole Baby Dill Pickles, Slovacek’s West, West, $10

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Purchased from a place known best for its kolaches, these pickles were mediocre, our tasters decided. I described them as “your standard dill.” Lee found them bland and soggy.

Dill Pickles, T-Rex Pickles, $7

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

We expected a normal dill pickle flavor, from the name, but these had an “odd, herb-y flavor,” Lee said. I found them to be too sour.

Hot Dill Pickles, T-Rex Pickles, $7

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Though these were spicier than the T-Rex Dill Pickles, our tasters had similar reactions: “not good,” Lee said, despite the spice. As with the regular dills, she liked the crunch and texture, but it wasn’t enough.

Dill Pickles, Buc-ee’s, $6.69

Nathan Hunsinger/Staff Photographer

Ambivalence is the best way to sum up the reaction to these pickles: “They’re not offensive but not enjoyable,” I said. Maybe that’s a sign: Don’t buy pickles at a gas station.

100-year recipe / Taste of Japanese mom / Instant vegetable pickles

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by The Yomiuri Shimbun   –   The Japan News

Japanese pickles, called tsukemono, have a long history. A description of gourds and other vegetables preserved with salt has been found on wooden plates that date from the Nara period in the eighth century.

As many as 64 different pickles, including those developed in the intervening period, were introduced in “Shiki Tsukemono Shiokagen,” a book about pickles from the Edo period (1603-1867). The book says that pickles are the most important element in meals and that they cannot be spared in any household.

Pickles were considered important as a preserved food and a side dish, and they became a basic item in Japanese cuisine together with rice and miso soup. A main dish and another side dish would be added to the combination.

Pickles changed after World War II. The amount of salt used for pickling decreased rapidly. According to Tokyo Kasei University Prof. Shigeo Miyao, a food microbiology expert, the salt content of takuan — pickled daikon — was reduced from about 12 percent 50 years ago to about 3 percent today.

A lot of salt had been used for preservation, but the situation changed. “Developments in makers’ preservation technologies, such as cold storage and packaging, meant they coped with people’s growing interest in the link between salt content and health,” Miyao said.

Homemade pickles also changed. With the Westernization of foods, traditional pickles came to be served less frequently in meals.

The recipe introduced today was published in 1997 in The Yomiuri Shimbun. After being pickled with salt for a short time, the vegetables are dressed mainly with soy sauce. The vegetables can be eaten in high quantities as the taste of myoga, Japanese ginger, stimulates the appetite.

Instant pickles became a popular vegetable cooking method with the hit “Asazuke no Moto” (Mix for instant pickles) launched by Ebara Foods Industry, Inc. in 1991.

Yasuhiko Maeda, a professor emeritus at Utsunomiya University who is an expert on food chemistry, said: “Contemporary pickles that are fresh and have vivid colors are suitable for enjoying the flavor and taste of the vegetables themselves.”

According to a survey by the Tokyo-based Better Home Association, which was conducted in 2011 with responses from about 400 women attending its cooking classes, only 10 percent of respondents said they regularly made nukazuke, pickles in salty fermented rice bran. Those who stopped making such pickles cited reasons such as, “It’s troublesome to take care of the bed of salted rice bran every day.”

Washoku has been recorded on the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage list. Fermentation expert Takeo Koizumi said: “I hope people also cherish traditional pickles that have distinctive flavors arising from lactic acid fermentation.”

Koizumi launched an organization for publicizing the merits of Japan’s fermented foods inside and outside the country in 2013. He said pickled vegetables can be used to season other dishes. For example, pickled Chinese cabbage can be mixed into fried vegetables, or into nabe stews.

“I’d like to convey to people the unknown charms of Japanese pickles,” Koizumi said.

Our recipe for instant vegetable pickles

(From the July 18, 1997, edition)

Ingredients (serves four):

2 eggplants

1 cucumber

200g cabbage

40g carrot

3 myoga Japanese ginger

8 shiso leaves

1 piece kombu kelp, 5 centimeters on a side

3g dried bonito shavings

1 tbsp white roasted sesame seeds

(any vegetables available can be combined)

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tbsp mirin

1 tbsp vinegar

Directions:

1. Cut the kombu into thin strips with scissors and soak in a sauce made of the soy sauce, mirin and vinegar for half a day.

2. Halve eggplants lengthwise and cut into 1-centimeter-wide slices diagonally. Halve a cucumber lengthwise and cut into 7- or 8-millimeter-wide slices diagonally.

3. Cut cabbage into 2- by 5-centimeter rectangular pieces. Cut carrot into 1- by 3-centimeter pieces.

4. Slice myoga lengthwise, thinly. Remove the center stem of the shiso leaves and cut finely.

5. Mix vegetables. Sprinkle 2 teaspoons of salt and 2 tablespoons of water over the vegetables and mix well. Put a light weight on them and leave for about an hour.

6. When vegetables become soft, wash with water roughly and wring dry.

7. Mix in dried bonito shavings and the sauce. Serve in a bowl, sprinkled with sesame seeds.