Saurkraut at Home

Sauerkraut ingredients lining up.

We have been reading  a lot about fermented food, and decided last week to jump in with a small batch of sauerkraut. Here's why. A: Fermented food keeps much more of the nutrients intact than canning or freezing. B: "Probiotics" is a fancy word for the stuff that is good to have in your belly that comes from things like yogurt, pickles, sour cream, raw vegetables, etc. Rather than buy probiotics, eat raw and fermented for for the same benefit! C: We both really love sauerkraut. D: you save money making stuff like this from scratch!

Okay, so what we did was thinly slice a head of cabbage, two apples, and a couple of carrots. Then we laced the resulting salad with sea salt, put it under a plate with a big weight on it ( 4-litre wine jug full of water), and waited for the salt to draw the moisture out of the vegetables, making a brine. After one day, we didn't have enough brine, so we made some with sea salt and water, adding it until the vegetables were submerged. We left it to sit and pickle in the brine, with the naturally occurring enzymes doing their thing, for several days. Yesterday we tasted it, and it was really yummy! The idea now is that we will save it in jars, making sure to have an inch or so of brine above the contents, in our cellar. It is supposed to last for many months that way, but I don't think we'll have any left after the first two weeks, so I think we should start another batch.

Sauerkraut in process!

We look forward to having a crock stewing in its own juices all the time, and a decent supply of jarred sauerkraut so we can grab some as a side-dish at a moment's notice, much the same way as we do with our mead brewing. The cost is almost zero, and the flavor (and health) rewards are enormous.

One link we like for this is Nourishing Days, which has a non-intimidating how-to for making sauerkraut, among other great things. The next thing we will likely try is pickled carrots. When we feel really emboldened, we'll try kimchee, which is a big step for me. The last time I made something that I had only ever heard of, but never tasted, it began a lifelong passion for mead-brewing, which provides the ultimate fermented food, goes without saying...

Skillet Scallops with Mead Sauce

Skillet Scallops with Mead Sauce, a side salad, and a glass of mead.

Large Scallops are one of the ocean's tastiest gifts. The rich tender meat melts in your mouth, bursting with a big but delicate seafood flavor. They are one of those foods that can be spoiled by over-treating them, so I keep the recipe to its barest essentials. With a cast-iron skillet, five minutes of burner time, and almost nothing else, you can present knock-your-socks-off scallops, easy as that!

Sometimes when my Honey is working evenings, I make these, tent the plates in tin-foil, and break speed limits bringing her scallops, a nice salad, and some iced herbal tea for her dinner break. It makes a wonderfully romantic meal for two, even in the front seat of a car! ...or maybe it's just her that makes it seem so romantic. In any case, at home I serve it with a glass of the same mead that goes into the sauce, and a pretty side salad as shown.

The only challenging ingredient is mead. If you really can't find any of this fine honey wine, then you can use white wine instead, but really scour your local markets, and even ask around among home-brewers for some before you give up. If that all fails, watch this space, because soon I'll post the basics of mead-brewing, so you can start making your own. 

The Recipe: Skillet Scallops with Mead Sauce

Whattya need?
6 large scallops
olive oil
2 tbsp butter
salt, pepper
Splash of mead
A cast iron skillet and a couple of paper towels
(Serves 2)

Whattya do?

Heat up your skillet over high heat, meanwhile drying the scallops and laying them out. 
Scatter a pinch of salt and a pinch of pepper on them, both sides.
Pour a generous splash of olive oil, two or three tbsps, on the pan, and spread the scallops out on it with some distance between them, each on an end, not the round sides.
After about two minutes, flip them over quickly, still with space between them.
After another minute and a half, take them off and arrange them quickly on two small plates. The ends should be a golden brown, and don't worry if they don't seem to be done through; the heat from the ends will finish the cooking before they get to the table.

Nothing can replace a good skillet!

Add the butter to the pan, and as soon as it has melted, add the mead, enough to just briefly cover the bottom of the pan. It will start to boil and reduce immediately, so working quickly, scrape the scallop footprints up with the edge of a fork and stir the scrapings into the mead. When it has reduced to a few tbsns of sauce, usually less than a minute all together, pour it quickly over the scallops and serve.

Bacon Parmesan Breadsticks

Breakfast here at Ironwood Hollow is a much busier event than it was when I was alone. Instead of mixing up a bowl of kashi with fruits and nuts added, with milk from the farm next door, which was my old routine, now we're doing a big egg scramble with bacon, or waffles with blueberries, still with the great milk from next door though. I find myself smiling the whole time, appreciating the warm magic of sleepy "good morning" mumbles and the steady rustle that is kids getting ready for school, liking how they pitch in with dishes without being asked, feeling the coffee warm me from within, the family warm me from all around. 

Bacon Parmesan Breadsticks...dip in maple syrup! Yum...

Today I wanted to try something that could be grabbed on the way out the door, for those mornings when the kids might want to sleep until ten minutes before the bus comes. Planning ahead, I picked up a pre-made can of breadstick dough, and made sure we had a half-pound of thin-sliced bacon and some grated Parmesan on hand. The results are great! We dipped them in maple syrup for best effect. One can of twelve breadsticks was not enough for five people, though, so it's a good thing the test-flight was on a weekend day.

The recipe: 

Bacon Parmesan Breadsticks

Ingredients: 

One package breadstick dough

Half pound thin bacon

1/4 Cup fresh-shaved parmesan cheese

Preheat oven according to breadsticks directions.

Cook bacon and blot dry.

Twist bacon, about a half-slice, into each breadstick, breaking it into smaller pieces as needed, then dip each stick into a plate of the parmesan.

Arrange on a baking sheet, and cook according to breadstick directions.

Serve hot or cold, with syrup to dunk in as an optional extra.

Bean Hole Beans

"...there's always some level of uncertainty."

Decades ago, the hole was dug, and lined with stones painstaking pulled from the soil nearby. An enamel cookpot was committed to rough use, the first of several, as they don't last forever under this treatment. The old metal flyer-sled that my sister and I had almost outgrown was pressed into service as a bean-hole rain-cover. Since then, many times, Dad has gone out and lit a hot fire in the hole late at night, letting it burn through the night, so that the stones and surrounding soil could hold that heat.

Each time, next morning, he'd pull out the coals, replace them with a pot full of beans, water, fatback, and assorted secret ingredients. Then, against everything we learn in modern life about dirt and food, he'd shovel the soil back into the hole, burying the pot, sealing it underground with all of those hot rocks, for at least eight hours. He'd go about his day, often preparing for company, setting out the tables, cutting and jointing some meat, pulling up from the cellar something he or I had brewed, all the while enjoying the sight of smoke and steam rising from the bean-hole site like a rare Downeast fumarole.

Unearthing Bean Hole Beans

Fast-forward to last weekend, the most recent time the tradition was observed, and we have family, friends, friends of family, gathered for a belated birthday, music by yours truly, food by potluck and bean-hole. People share news, admire recent changes to the property and family home. Dad likes to make an event of the bean unearthing, and this time is no exception. 

Wielding a spade, and grinning for the fun of the occasion, for the pleasure of having such fine company, he stands beside the smoking patch of ground and clears his throat, eventually catching most of our attention. Striking a pose with the space, he announces, "I have done it in this same hole many times...but there's allllways some level of uncertainty..."

Smirking, and noting uncle Billy's chuckle, and some smart remarks ("Have you used the same tool every time?"), he begins to carefully excavate the pot, releasing clouds of smoke, while kids look on wide-eyed, not believing that FOOD is going to come from this. Soon there is a respectable pile of dirt, and the pot is revealed, safe under some aluminum foil. Carefully brushing it off and lifting it out, he carries it to the plank tables, and unveils the contents. 

Bean Hole Beans

Something very special infuses traditional bean-hole beans, and I'm not sure if it's the scent of the soil and smoke, the special care given to long-held tradition, an extra flavor imparted by the assembled family and their enjoyment of the ritual, or all of these things. All I know is that I always look forward to a plate of it, to watching how much Dad enjoys presenting it, and to the amazement of the uninitiated, when they see fine, hot, savory dinner being dug up from our bony New England soil.