While I am tossing up photographs, I thought I would include a few pictures from earlier this year that never made it onto the blog, due to startup mayhem. Back in April, when ramps were in season, I had compared two pickle recipes: Stephane’s (which he had adapted from someone at the Union Square Farmers’ Market) and one from Amanda Hesser. Stephane’s recipe continues to be my favorite.
With no further ado, here are the pics:
This was getting near the end of the ramp season, so they were pretty fat.
On the off-chance that Stephane’s blog one day disappears, here are the key ingredients:
- 3 bunches of ramps, white parts only
- 1 cup rice wine vinegar
- 1 cup water
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1/4 cup honey
- 1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
- 1 tablespoon juniper berries
- 1 tablespoon coriander seed
- 1 tablespoon black peppercorns
- 1 tablespoon fennel seeds
- 2 bay leaves
- 1 teaspoon dried chili flakes
And then a final still life from even earlier in the year that never quite made it up here, but which I liked:
Rainy weekends call for tinkering in the kitchen. Tinkering, however, runs smack up against one of the hidden catches to having children. They never tell you this beforehand, for fear of putting you off. It belies description, this 10th circle of hell, this other-worldly zone of chaos, sugar, and tears. See, just a few words and you already know what I am talking about: children’s birthday parties.
Like Sartre’s No Exit, you cannot escape. The unwritten rule is that your child has to go to every birthday party of every other child in his or her class. And (warning: you cannot escape this either), those children have to come to your child’s party too. They, and by “They” I of course refer to SPECTRE, who after some market testing decided to rebrand under the code M.O.M.S. … They insist on attendance, but (wait for it) they want you to take the kiddo. It’s right there in the M.O.M.S. 21st Century Handbook: when facing suicide mission, find patsy to take the fall.
Fear not. With almost catlike powers of resurrection, I have emerged from these experiences, emotionally scarred, occasionally paint splattered, and usually hard of hearing. Kitchen tinkering has been disturbed, oh so unjustly, but it has taken place as it can. This weekend’s journey took us through the beginnings of pickled limes, slow baked dry rub pork, and the stuffed cabbage that kept on giving (subject of another post).
Continue reading “Weekend Tinkering: Lime Pickle; Slow Baked Pork”