Peppers to Brighten the Winter

When I was growing up in the South, there were two kinds of hot pepper sauce that we used.  One was Tabasco or one of its imitations.  The other was a bottle of hot peppers in vinegar with a dispenser top that sat on almost every diner table and certainly in our condiment shelf.  The vinegar's main use was to add piquancy to cooked greens, like turnip greens.

Now hot peppers of many kinds dominate American cuisine and I've grown a fair number myself; ancho, Anaheim, jalapeno.  But in recent years I've discovered serrano peppers.  They can be used sparingly in cooking or salsas (I usually choose jalapenos instead for those purposes) but they make excellent hot pepper vinegar.

In the past I've picked them all green but this year they got away from me and began to ripen.  I suspect this will make the vinegar even spicier.  We're still using last year's batch - this is one of those things that gets better with sitting.

I found that the excellent Joy of Pickling by Linda Ziedrich had a recipe for something she calls Picque.  Picque, or pique, is a Caribbean vinegar-based sauce that apparently is often made with pineapple rind and various herbs.  This recipe is simpler and is great with kale, cooked Southern-style.  It is also good as a brightener in cooking or salads where you might add a squeeze of lemon juice or other splash of acidity.

Picque

adapted from Joy of Pickling

Clean serrano chiles (green or mixed green and ripened) and remove most of the stems.  Slit with a knife but leave whole.  Choose glass bottles with non-reactive caps (old vinegar bottles with dispenser tops are ideal).  

Divide these ingredients among the bottles.  (You'll have to guess how much in each bottle depending on the size of the bottle.)

4 garlic cloves, halved
12 whole black peppercorns
1/8 t pickling salt

Push serrano chiles into the bottles as tightly as possible.  Pour unheated, undiluted cider vinegar directly over the chiles to fill the entire bottle.

Note: The recipe is for 1 cup of cider vinegar; divide the other ingredients according to the size of the bottle. The chiles take up a lot of volume and I typically get two bottles per recipe.

Shake the bottles to dissolve salt, cap, and let sit in a cool place for several weeks before using.  You may refill the vinegar once, but it won't be as good.

  

 

A Season for Scallions

Yesterday (two days before the end of November) I harvested the last of my scallions (green onions).  I might have left them even longer but snow is predicted, and the ground is beginning to freeze.  If I find myself growing only a few vegetables in a small garden, I hope that one of them will always be scallions.  True, they are easily available in the market, but once started in the garden they are entirely dependable and long-lasting.  They can be planted early.  This year I planted Nabechan (Johnny's Select Seeds) on March 22 and they emerged on April 9.  I also experimented with winter sowing the prior winter, but none of those seeds emerged.  I didn't record when I began using some of the onions, but I'm pretty sure that it was early summer.

Scallions are quite frost-resistant and were still green and hardy when I pulled these last.  I think they can actually be overwintered with some protection but that is an experiment for another year.  When the ground is frozen, it is difficult to harvest them because the stems will break when you attempt to pull them from the ground, or else you get a huge clump of frozen soil and too many onions.

There are hundreds or thousands of uses for scallions, but the Chinese use them a lot both as a vegetable and as a seasoning.  I have found that these Scallion Pancakes are easy to make and delicious all by themselves, but especially as a "bread" for Chinese-style meals.  They are also good rolled up with meat mixtures like tacos.  Try them for breakfast.  They don't want any syrup or other sweet addition.

Scallion Pancakes

Beat 2 eggs and add milk to measure a total 2 cups.

Mix together 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour and 1 teaspoon salt.

Add the egg/milk mixture to the dry ingredients, along with
1/3 cup peanut oil (or other neutral oil). Mix well.

Mix in 4 minced scallions.

Pour measured amounts of batter onto a greased griddle, one at a time.
(1/4 to 1/3 cup is about right) 
Turn pancake after it is lightly browned on the first side.
May need to add scant oil between pancakes. Eat hot. May be frozen. 

Using Root-cellar Cabbage

Cabbage has been a consistent theme here, both because it is such a satisfying crop to grow, and because it has so many uses. In The Cabbage in Winter, I commented on some recipes for using cabbage, and in Cabbage is King discussed cabbage's importance as the food of the poor.

One of the most important reasons to celebrate cabbage is its role as a storage vegetable. Whether in fermented form (sauerkraut) or simply stored in a cold place like a root cellar, cabbage can serve as a nutritious vegetable through most of the winter at a time when fresh vegetables are (traditionally) unavailable. More attention is being given to root cellaring these days (here's a summary from a local workshop) as a way to preserve homegrown (or purchased) produce that is not canning, freezing, dehydrating, or pickling. After all, even excellent pickles have their limits as vegetable sides. Cabbage is a good root cellar subject if the right varieties are used.


That choice of variety is crucial, as I've learned from hard experience. Cabbages (we're talking the head-forming type, not Chinese cabbage or any of the numerous leafy members of the clan) can be of many colors (though the basics are red and green), shapes and sizes. But a crucial difference is whether they are summer cabbages intended for early harvest or fall cabbages. Early (summer) cabbages are tender, fresh and sweet, and lovely for slaw or other salad use. My beloved Tendersweet (see Mon Petit Chou) is wonderful for this. But as I described in Cabbage for Sauerkraut, early cabbages can split, as early as the first week in August. For either sauerkraut or for cold storage, you want the ones that grow fat and happy well into the fall. This head was photographed on November 16, just before harvesting. It is a variety from Johnny's Seeds, appropriately named "Storage".

The next problem is finding a good storage place. Refrigerators will work. But the idea is to find a "root cellar" space, one that stays cool but doesn't freeze. For most people who don't have a root cellar, this requires some ingenuity. (Note that a basement does not make a good root cellar. It is usually too warm and is also frequently too wet.) I found that an old kitchen cabinet in my unheated garage stayed above freezing. (The thermometer is a min/max.) This picture was taken on December 26.

The cabbage will dry on the outer leaves and should be watched for rot (do not use plastic bags!). It can be withdrawn for use as needed. This cabbage was removed from the garage on February 12. Note that the internal leaves are white and dense.






The stored cabbage can be used for fresh use, like coleslaw, but the result is only acceptable.

It is excellent for cooking, however, though not for cabbage rolls (the leaves are too tightly packed). For example, thinly sliced cabbage can be added to a gratin. An important key to cooking cabbage is that it should always be simmered, sautéed or braised gently, so the sulfurous compounds that give boiled cabbage a bad name are not released.

Here is an old favorite from my childhood that makes good use of the freshness of the stored cabbage. This soup is excellent with homemade cornbread. It is satisfying without being heavy and will keep for several days in the refrigerator.

Mother's Hamburger Cabbage Soup

1 pound or less lean ground beef
1 medium onion, chopped
1/2 head cabbage, cut into thin shreds
1 stalk celery, chopped
Canned tomatoes (home-canned or 14-16 oz can) with juice
Black pepper
Dried sweet basil
to taste: salt, hot pepper sauce (note: canned tomatoes are salty already)

Cook the ground beef in a minimum of oil until the meat is no longer raw, but do not brown. Add the onion, tomatoes, and water to cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and add cabbage and celery. Cover and simmer for about half an hour, keeping water level well above the vegetables and stirring occasionally. Add seasonings and simmer for a few more minutes. Cabbage should be tender before serving.

In A Pickle

So why haven't I posted on my garden and food blog for a full year? Because I've been too busy gardening and preserving. We expanded our vegetable garden last year (to about 2,000 SF) and it has now become a major time hog. With weeding, soil preparation, planting (amid the weather mishaps of the early part of the year) and then staking, spraying (although I limit that to what is absolutely necessary) and compost mulching, the garden can soak up days at a time.

But then the hardest part of all - the harvesting. Surely this ought to be the payoff and time for celebration. But it can lead to a sort of exhaustion, as piles of what a fellow gardener and blogger calls "obligatory vegetables" take over the kitchen and demand to be processed.

Thus it was in July when I came to resent my cucumbers for being so relentlessly productive. I had a disappointing crop in 2009 (an all-around poor summer for gardening) and was unable to make our favorite bread-and-butter pickles. So this year I planted 4 hills of pickling cucumbers, including two of Ferry-Morse's "Sumter". The other two hills were from old seed, including "Homemade Pickles" from Cook's. ("Amour", last year's choice from Johnny's, was discarded - it has awful prickly spines.) The two from old seed had a modest production, but Sumter exploded.

So of course I made a big batch of the bread-and-butter pickles, but Sumter wasn't done with me. Despair set in as I went out to the garden every other day to find another full flush of fruit ready to pick.


Fortunately I had collected several books on pickling, including the excellent The Joy of Pickling by Linda Ziedrich. Although I had never made dill pickles before, I tried her Short-brined Dill Pickles. Like most pickles, they had to cure on the shelf for a while. But I might have made a second batch if I had tasted them right away. They are wonderful - spicy (contain garlic, hot pepper and peppercorns in addition to dill) and not flabby, though I didn't include grape or cherry leaves. We'll have no trouble eating them up this winter.

Then it seemed that my moment had arrived to try traditional fermented dill pickles (called "half-sours" by Ziedrich). I didn't use her recipe but rather one from Ohio State extension. Those did turn a bit flabby and though they are tasty enough, I won't try that again. They filled up my Gartopf fermenting crock and left an odor that was difficult to clean off.

Since I had already made another pickle (a family favorite, green tomato relish), it was time to stop. Fortunately pickling cucumbers are fine in salad, cold cucumber soup, etc. And less than a month after they began to fruit, I pulled the vines out. They were being afflicted by bacterial wilt disease.

Here is our own recipe for bread-and-butter pickles. Quantities of vegetables are approximate depending on what is available.

Bread and Butter Pickles

1 gallon (10 lbs) pickling cucumbers
5 medium onions
2 red bell peppers

Slice (a food processor works well for this) and layer in a 3-gallon pickling crock with 1 cup total of pickling salt. Cover with a weighted plate for about an hour till brine forms (a quart jar filled with water will work). Refrigerate for about 6 hours.

Drain and rinse the vegetables and place into a large pot that contains this pickling mixture:

6 cups (1 quart plus 1 pint) apple cider vinegar
6 cups white sugar
2 whole cloves
1 1/2 t ground turmeric
1/4 c mustard seed
1 T celery seed
(spices may be placed loose into the mixture)
Heat briefly to mix before adding vegetables.


Note: if the vegetables are not rinsed, the pickles will be salty. A couple of washes is enough. Use a colander.

Heat the mixture (but do not boil) until the vegetables turn translucent. Pack into pint jars and process in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes. Allow the pickles to cure for a month before using. This recipe makes approximately 16 pints.

An Early Frost

Fall is a bit of a melancholy time in the garden, especially after the first frost when it is time to take out dead plants. I don't know what our "standard" first frost date is around here but to my memory we have usually had a couple more weeks before it got to be a real problem. This year it was before mid-October.

Of course, there is frost and then there is frost. I have found that there are approximately three types of response of plants to dropping temperatures. First are the ones that turn up their toes and die the first time the thermometer gets to 32° F. These include squash, tomatoes, and nasturtiums. Then some others can take a brief dip to around 32°. These include peppers and eggplants, and probably beans. Others do just fine, thank you, with repeated low-thirties temperatures. The cabbage family and many herbs (but not basil!) are in this class. According to my plant physiology studies, the magic temperature for failure of many of the protections that these plants have against frost damage is 28° F. So these days I'm keeping a wary eye on the weather forecasts. Meanwhile, my remaining cabbage, some late-planted lettuce and self-sown dill and cilantro are fine, as are the scallions. I just had to pull out frost-damaged green beans, with pods still on them (I wasn't fast enough), and most of the peppers and eggplant are gone now too after we hit around 30°. I've constructed a tent around the remaining green peppers in hopes of letting some of them ripen.

Meanwhile, there is the garlic to get planted. It is going into the new bed so I'm off to dig in compost.

The Terror of Tomatoes: So Much of a Good Thing

It's fortunate that we choose not to remember unpleasant things and that we compartmentalize memories. Otherwise, we might never order so many garden seeds. We'd look at those lovely pictures and think, "Oh, no - the harvest!!".

Now is the season of desperate processing. Even with the depredations of a late-season tomato late blight infection, the tomatoes have advanced from one kitchen counter, to a second, to a table in the basement. I've pulled out the last of the vines but I'll have tomatoes ripening and asking to be processed for another week or two.

I grew three varieties this year. My old reliable for fresh eating and casual cooking is Carmello, which I've been buying from Renée's Garden. It is a tender-skinned variety bred for flavor that grows medium-sized red round tomatoes. This gets made into tabbouleh, gazpacho, fresh salsa, broiled tomatoes, and of course eaten as luxurious big fat red tomato slices.





I've usually grown an Italian plum-type tomato too, and lately it has been Pompeii, also from Reneé's Garden. They produced very well this year and made large long fruits.










This year I added Amish Paste from Cook's Garden. These are described as "acorn-shaped" and that works pretty well. They are supposed to be meaty and good for sauces. Some of these fruits were huge.

I can't compare flavor for these last two, because I combined them. I usually think of plum-type tomatoes as "paste" tomatoes. So I just quartered them and cooked them together in a couple of slow cookers, a.k.a. crock pots. I cover the pot until the tomatoes juice up and begin to cook, then remove the cover and let them cook down all day. Then I run them through a food mill to remove skins and seeds, and the result is a moderately thick purée which I freeze in jars.

What I do with the Carmello when it exceeds fresh eating requirements? I skin them (by placing briefly in a pan of boiling water and then pulling the skins off) cut them up, and cook them down. This goes into various dishes for freezing, like cabbage rolls and a huge batch of spaghetti sauce. But I also make a simple basil-tomato sauce for freezing. It can be used as is or as the base of other sauces and it is a good way to use the basil I grow every year.

Basil Tomato Sauce

For each large pot (about 6 quarts) of cooked tomatoes, cut up 1 medium onion and 6 garlic cloves. Cook them in about 1/4 cup of olive oil until translucent (don't let the garlic brown) and add the tomatoes and a plentiful quantity of fresh torn (not chopped) basil leaves. Simmer with stirring until thickened, 1-2 hours. Add ground black pepper and salt to taste (I often omit salt since tomatoes are fairly salty in themselves).

I've often used this from the freezer to make a more complex meaty spaghetti sauce. It can also be used to make a sauce with roasted red peppers.

Roasted Red Pepper Sauce

For each quart of Basil Tomato Sauce, roast and peel 1 ripe red bell pepper (or more). Put the pepper and the sauce into a blender and purée till smooth. Season with black pepper and 1/4 t each salt and sugar (or to taste).

I serve this with Eggplant Parmigiana. Both the prepared eggplant and the sauce freeze nicely for midwinter meals.

The Basil Tomato Sauce is just fine as is for dishes like traditional lasagna.

Mon Petit Chou

Not for nothing do the French use cabbage as a term of endearment. Cabbage is an enormously solid and reassuring vegetable that has provided good nutrition for the humanity of the world. It is productive, high in nutritional value, and best of all, stores well. I've written previously about its role as a storage vegetable and of course about its evocation as sauerkraut. I'm enormously vainglorious and possessive of my cabbages and delight in their translation from little plants in late April to amazingly huge heads by August.

This year I planted three varieties. Ruby Perfection (red cabbage), just a few. It stores well, we like the German red cabbage (Rötkohl), and I'm trying to learn other ways to use it. This year, a new variety planted specifically for sauerkraut. Kaitlin, a new F1 from Johnny's Selected Seeds, is supposed to be a late-season, good storage cabbage ideal for kraut. I'm hoping it will solve my problem with early splitting. So far it is not very big (I planted it last so maybe it got a slow start) but looks very healthy. But this post is devoted to Tendersweet, my darling little cabbage (mon petit chou).

Tendersweet (again, from Johnny's) was an experiment last year. I found that it was not ideal for kraut but was wonderful for fresh eating and cooking. As the name implies, it is a delicate, thin-leafed cabbage. The head is endearingly flat and the soft leaves peel away easily, which makes it perfect for cabbage rolls. (See the recipe in last year's post.) Last year I froze a number of these in meal-sized portions and we mournfully pulled the last from the freezer around January. More this year.

Because it is so mild and delicate, it doesn't need any of the fussing around that you sometimes read about with salting or brining. I just cut thin slivers across the head with my sharp knife and it can be used for slaw or even served with a simple vinaigrette. Even the midveins are not harsh and coarse as some cabbages can be.

It began splitting last week after a lot of rain, so I harvested a number of the larger heads for a small batch of sauerkraut, and stored some others for near-term eating. Happily there are still a few smaller heads out there waiting for later use.