In spite of this, I’ve observed that when I take personal responsibility for my food–either by growing, gathering, or cooking it myself–gratitude comes easily. Watching a loaf of bread rise or seeing how lettuce sprouts in the garden puts me in touch with a mysterious force, and this, I think, maybe a missing link, a necessary starting point for gratitude.

One obstacle to feeling thankful, then, may be the striking disconnect around food within our culture. What we eat appears to many of us to originate at the grocery store, and so what is there to be grateful for? And there is an exchange that may also interfere: I offer money and receive food in return. Everyone gets something and so, again, is there anything more to be grateful for than the dollar that enabled the deal?

© Photo courtesy of: DTR@Ruhlman.com

In and around the kitchen, there is a different energy exchange, one I can’t fully explain though I can describe it. I mix flour and water and together these turn into bread. I put cucumbers and salt into a crock and get pickles ten days later. I put seeds in the soil and get vegetables and herbs, which I turn into salads, soups and more. These are wonders, all of them. And I am amazed by transformations that I can never fully understand; I’m grateful, too, because they are powered by a force beyond my grasp, one I cannot touch or see but have learned to rely on again and again.

You could say, then, that instead of engaging in commerce I am engaging in a collaboration with a mysterious force, and it’s my connection to this force that stokes the fires of gratitude.

I’ve thought a lot lately about how to strengthen this connection, and about whether it might help to see cooking in the same fascinated way that children do: “Wow, how did those eggs whip up so fluffy and light? What made that cake rise? And look at those pickles; they were cucumbers before!

I wonder if this might be a better way to inhabit the kitchen: with childlike curiosity and awe, and with an awareness that there’s mystery behind the creation of these foods. If it is, and I think it is, I suspect we might get there by slowing down and paying closer attention, by allowing ourselves to be surprised by the beauty of our ingredients and the magical way they turn into meals that nourish us.

Making room in our busy lives, enough to allow an everyday task that’s as useful and necessary as cooking to hold our attention and engage our imagination, is a gift we can give to ourselves. Growing food, gathering it in ways that are interesting and fun and, most of all, cooking: these are worth some time and effort because gratitude is the reward, and so is hope. These are necessary and uplifting feelings–and just right to hold within us as we begin a new year.

Every grocery and convenience store has shelves filled with snacks and prepared foods. Nearly all are made with white flour, refined sugar, and refined vegetable oil–including prepared organic “health” foods–because these ingredients are cheap and have neutral flavors. For fun, you might want to take a look at ingredient lists the next time you shop for snack foods. I imagine you will be as surprised as I was to find these ingredients in almost every product sold.

While many people believe that snacks have little place in a healthy diet, they may actually play an important role. Snacks can help manage hunger and avoid the frantic filling up that often follows denial and the postponement of needs; eating a snack at 4:00 may keep you from eating two or three helpings at dinner. Of course, how we define “snack” matters. Societal norms have a lot to do with our acceptance of a bag of potato chips or cookies as an afternoon pick-me-up, and relying on hummus and carrot sticks as a mid-morning lift might make us feel almost deviant. Yet these norms are leading us down the weedy path of poor health.

It’s true that we all feel more comfortable when we fit in, gathering food and eating the way others around us do. But if ever there was a moment to call upon your inner renegade, this is it. Our society needs to establish new snacking norms. Until this happens, we may want to set our own rules and live by them: figuring out what works; getting rid of empty calories that slow us down and offer little; finding snacks that satisfy us; and enjoying support where we can find it.

To make guacamole, mash a ripe avocado or two. Add lime juice and sea salt to taste. Optional embellishments include chopped tomatoes, scallions, cilantro, or finely diced chile peppers.

© Photo courtesy of: DTR@Ruhlman.com

Here is an idea we should all hold dear: it’s possible to enjoy snack foods and, at the same time, control them. We develop this control as we learn to see clearly what is on our plate. When we can do this, when we can recognize the organic evaporated can juice listed on a label as the refined sugar that it is, and when we are able to see what an apple slice with almond butter gives us, our pleasure in snacking will, over time, be enhanced. It will be a deeper, more sustaining pleasure than we’ve known before—if snacking well has been a struggle—because it will be absent the tinge of remorse.

What’s uplifting is that the only method of snacking that will ultimately work is one that’s centered around foods we enjoy. Healthy snacking doesn’t mean denial. So I’d like to suggest a new definition to tuck into your mind and call up when you’re feeling unsure: a snack is a relatively small quantity of food made from ingredients found in nature. A healthful snack will keep your mind alert, your mood up, and your energy high. And in the ideal, it should take little time to prepare.

Here are recipes based on this new definition, and what they have in common is that you can make them in advance. This way they will be within reach when hunger pangs strike.

Roasted Cashews, Tamari Pumpkin Seeds, Homemade Hummus, Pita Triangles

(Guacamole: See caption under the photo above.)

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

Roasted Cashews

Yield: 1 cup

Ingredients

1 cup raw cashews
1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

Recipe

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

2. In a small bowl, mix the ingredients and place them in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Place the baking sheet in the oven and stir the cashews every 10 minutes, until they are lightly and evenly browned all over. This will take 20-30 minutes.

3. Remove cashews from the oven, cool, and store covered in the refrigerator for when you want a snack. They will keep for months.

Tamari Pumpkin Seeds

Yield: 3 cups

Ingredients

3 cups raw pumpkin seeds
2-1/2 tablespoons tamari

Recipe

1. Place pumpkin seeds in a dry heavy or cast iron skillet and cook over medium heat, stirring often, until well toasted. The seeds will “pop” and crackle for much of the time, and when the crackling slows they are ready. They will be puffed and lightly browned all over. Turn off the heat and let the seeds cool for a minute or two.

2. Leaving the pumpkin seeds in the hot pan, pour 2 tablespoons of tamari over them and mix well with a wooden spoon. The tamari will sizzle a bit. Taste the seeds. For a stronger flavor, add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon tamari.

3. Transfer the pumpkin seeds to a cookie sheet or platter, spreading them in a single layer to cool. Store covered in the refrigerator for when you want a snack. They will keep for months.

Hummus

Yield: about 3 cups

You can make this recipe using canned chickpeas, which saves time by eliminating the first step–cooking the chickpeas–and you will get a good enough result. But to make exceptional hummus, there is no substitute for starting with chickpeas you cook yourself. This is because canned beans are left firm enough to be used for salads or spreads, but to make a creamy hummus, it’s best to start with tender, well-cooked beans.

Ingredients

1 cup dried chickpeas, or 1 cup of canned chickpeas
4 medium garlic cloves, divided between 2 steps
1 piece kombu, optional
1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
1/4 cup tahini
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fine sea salt
1/2 cup reserved bean liquid
optional: 1 teaspoon cumin seed, toasted and ground, or 1-1/2 teaspoons ground cumin

Recipe

1. Rinse dried chickpeas and place them in a bowl of cool, filtered water–covered by at least 3-4 inches–for 8-12 hours.

2. Drain beans, discard soaking water, and place them in a heavy pot. Add 1 clove crushed garlic, kombu (if you are using it) and coarse sea salt. Cover the beans with three times as much water, bring to a boil, and turn the heat to low. Simmer, partly covered, for 1-1/2 to 2 hours, checking from time to time to be sure the beans are submerged under water. If they’re not, add enough water to cover the beans by at least 1/2 inch.

2. Toward the end of cooking time, taste the beans for tenderness. When the beans are well-cooked, drain them and reserve 1/2 cup of cooking liquid. Discard any extra cooking liquid or save to add to soup.

3. If you like a textured hummus, skip step 3 and move on to step 4. If you like a smooth hummus, put the cooked beans into a large bowl filled with cool, filtered water. Using the palms of your hands, gently rub the beans to loosen the skins. As the skins float to the surface, skim them off and discard them. Repeat until nearly all the skins are removed.

4. Into a food processor, place the remaining 3 garlic cloves, beans, tahini, lemon juice, sea salt, and 1/4 cup of reserved cooking liquid. Also add the cumin if you are using it. Run the food processor for about 5 minutes for a smooth hummus, or less time if you like your hummus textured.

5. Check the hummus for flavor, consistency and texture. If needed, add more bean liquid, lemon juice or salt. Keep tasting and blending until you have the hummus you want.

6. Just about everything goes well with hummus: in it, on it and with it. To embellish a serving of hummus, add a sprinkling of smoked paprika or roasted and pureed red peppers. Garnish a bowl of hummus with chopped or sliced kalamata olives, or a sprinkling of fresh herbs like oregano or thyme. And serve hummus with carrot, celery or daikon sticks; pita triangles; or whole grain crackers.

7. Store hummus covered in the refrigerator for up to 5 days, or freeze.

Pita Triangles

Yield: As many as you like

Ingredients

1 package large or small whole-wheat pita pockets
olive oil
1 or 2 fresh garlic cloves
dried basil or thyme
fine sea salt
freshly ground pepper

Recipe

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

2. Cut small pita pockets into quarters and then split them in half. If using large pita pockets, cut them into quarters or eighths, depending on your preference, and do the same. Arrange the pita triangles, smooth side up, in a single layer on a baking sheet.

3. In a small bowl, mix together enough olive oil to use for brushing the pita triangles, a clove of minced garlic–or more if you are making a large quantity, and a pinch of dried herbs.

4. Brush the oil mixture over the smooth top of each pita triangle. Sprinkle with sea salt and freshly ground pepper.

5. Bake for 15 minutes or until as crisp as you would like, flipping the triangles halfway through cooking. Cool on a rack and serve or store for up to several days in an airtight container.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

Change is a norm we have come to accept and, within the food industry, change is the lifeblood of profit growth. For growth to continue, the foods we consider healthy, and therefore the foods we most often buy, must change frequently. Put another way, there’s great pressure within the food industry for novelty; new products can give food manufacturers a competitive edge and bring in greater profits.

Consider some of the popular “health foods” we are told we need: energy drinks; soy milk and soy yogurt; power bars; probiotic-enriched products; tofu; sugar-free and fat-free foods; tea drinks; butter and egg substitutes; processed “organic” foods; and vegetable oils. There are also popular health fads like vegan diets, carbohydrate elimination, and detox regimes.

Reading these examples, you may understandably feel some surprise. But can you see how all of them, the foods and the fads, have been manufactured to replace something real?  Can you see how they are all touted to reduce something: weight or cholesterol, hunger or cancer? We are told that eating this way will nourish us and make us look and feel better. We are told there is virtue in making choices like these. If only we believe; if only we agree to open our wallets.

William Coperthwaite wrote these good words:

“Under pressure of marketing…, the average person has little chance of choosing sensibly. The only alternative seems to be to become very self-conscious about food. By this means some few people learn to live healthily, while a great many others go to extremes–all carrot juice, or no bread, or all brown rice and no dairy products.”

If you truly enjoy the sort of food products listed above, then by all means purchase and enjoy them. But if you consume them because you feel you must, because you believe they will move you toward good health or keep you there, feel no regret about passing them over.

Fad foods are the storms of our time: they blow in, create excitement, and stir up energy in the marketplace. And we take cover beneath food choices and rituals that make us feel we’re responding, that give us some sense of being in control, but these choices and rituals leave us with thinner wallets and without a corresponding increase in vitality.

© Photo courtesy of: DTR@Ruhlman.com

Overwhelmed by marketing messages, we have lost our familiarity with real food and, as we have, it is left to us to figure out what constitutes a nourishing diet. Yet it is impossible for us to know how to eat well without knowing something about the food traditions of the past. While not all of these traditions were good ones, looking back is a way of gaining perspective and avoiding the fads of today: the value-added product fads, the weight-loss fads, the health-nut fads, the measure-every-vitamin-and-calorie fad. To quote the late historian and intellectual Tony Judt:

“What is significant about the present age of transformations is the unique insouciance with which we have abandoned not just the practices of the past–this is normal enough and not so very alarming–but their very memory. A world just recently lost is already half forgotten.”

Try, if you can, to remember that our physically active ancestors ate butter, chicken fat, egg yolks, meat, and full-fat dairy products–all foods that top our “forbidden” list–to no ill consequence. On the contrary, our rates of chronic disease and obesity have soared since we left these foods behind and replaced them with manufactured substitutes, and the correlation is not likely a coincidence. In part, what made these foods different from the products that are marketed to us today is how the animals they came from were cared for and what foods they ate. There is also the way the land was cared for and how these foods were prepared.

There are people who would have you believe that issues of food and health require a complicated, technical response, and that you need a scientist to tell you what to eat; but take a closer look and you’ll see that they all stand to make money by having you believe this. Among nutritionists and physicians who are paying attention, there is a general consensus that corresponds with common sense. And, while they may differ on nuance, their overall message is consistent: eat real food, food that doesn’t change.

You know food is real if you can identify its source and feel confident about what it contains; real food has no hidden ingredients. It comes mainly from the perimeter of the grocery store and not as much from the middle aisles. Real food can also come from co-ops, farmers’ markets and community-supported gardens. It’s food your great-grandparents would recognize and know how to farm, and can generally include meat, fish, whole grains, beans, nuts, seeds, vegetables, fruits, eggs, olive oil, animal fats, whole milk, cream and butter. Real food is also farmed without pesticides and is free from genetic modification, as it has been for nearly all of human history until very recent times. And it is best prepared using traditional cooking methods: a saute pan, a pot, a real oven.

Doing what a profit-driven food industry tells us to do–deciding what to buy and eat based on  their advertisements and marketing campaigns–gives us little credit for deciding for ourselves. It denies us the fun of developing our own ideas, and the stimulation and pleasure of figuring things out, of listening to our bodies, and of acting and adjusting until we get it right. There are few food experts who, no matter  how sensible or wise, can figure out food for us.

If you need help finding sources of real food for yourself, have a look at some of these links:

For local farms, farmers’ markets or a community supported garden.

For grass-finished meat.

For kosher grass-finished meat.

For local, wild-caught fish, visit your local farmers’ market from spring through fall. For high-quality wild fish and seafood, much of it kosher, try Vital Choice.

For milk, cream, cheese and butter straight from a local farm to you.

For kosher (not cholov yisroel), organic, grass-fed dairy products.

For heirloom whole grains and organic flours grown and freshly milled in the mid-Atlantic.

For a wide selection of real natural foods

For traditional maple syrup or maple crystals for baking.

For fine or coarse sea salt.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

There is, of course, the issue of propitious timing, and there is also the natural evolution of whims and desires. My own evolution was helped along by people like Joan Dye Gussow, a passionate advocate for eating locally and well. In her book, This Organic Life, which I read many years ago, she describes the challenge she took on in  mid-life of growing all of her own food in a large and ambitious garden.  Back then, her commitment helped firm my resolve to eat as locally and cleanly as I could. This year I read her new book, Growing Older, and renewed my commitment to self sufficiency; hence the perpetuation of the 7-year cycle and the hens.

It’s not entirely Joan’s fault. I have long wanted hens though, to be honest, I was afraid. With so many predators around, I wondered how I would I keep the hens alive. More to the self-absorbed point, I wondered how I would personally face and deal with death when it happened. How would I clean up the mess?

Hens on pasture

My two youngest!

After months of burying my nose in books and articles, and some forced experience cleaning up dead mice, I convinced myself I could do it. So this spring, I welcomed new life and there is so much about it that I love. The hens run free on pasture, they eat bugs and stir up my compost pile, and here is the kicker: they turn grass and bugs and kitchen scraps into really superior eggs.

If you have ever daydreamed about small-scale farming, raising livestock in your own backyard, or taking personal responsibility for raising some portion of the food you eat, I cannot tell you what a joy you would find tending hens to be. They are smart; who knew? They are wonderfully athletic. They have distinct personalities, and recognize and greet those who tend them. They let me know when they’re happy and what they need, and they make a soft cluck-clucking noise with a sort of rolling, back-of-the-throat purr that is both soothing and reassuring.

For the linguist in you, there is another fun aspect to raising hens: there are so many figures of speech that come from chicken tending. They will come to mind daily and you will say, “Oh, that’s where that turn of phrase originated.” Here are a few to help you understand what I mean:

• Coming home to roost: At the end of the day, hens run to the coop and fly up to a horizontal bar–or a tree branch if they live in the wild–to roost for the night.
• Rooster: The male of the species sits high on a tree branch where he roosts to watch over his hens. So, he is the “roost-er.”
• Hen pecked: When hens are irritated with each other, which doesn’t happen often if they have ample space, they peck at each other with sharp beaks.
• Don’t put all your eggs in one basket: If, when you go out to gather eggs, you put all of them into one basket, you might lose the whole bunch by dropping or knocking it. If you put some eggs in one basket and the rest in another, there is a greater likelihood you will have eggs for breakfast.
• Running chicken: When young hens are threatened, they don’t run toward the aggressor to defend themselves, they turn and run away.
• Scratching out a living: Chickens scratch the soil to find bugs to fill their bellies.
• Pecking order: Within a group of hens, there exists a hierarchy, and pecking is the means to put an up-and-comer in her place.
• Flying the coop: A hen will occasionally take flight and leave the coop, which brings us to a related figure of speech…
• The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Hens might roam on a pasture full of grass, weeds, bugs and all a chicken could desire. But they will still stick their heads through the fence, or go over the fence, in search of some imagined improvement in circumstances.

Here are a few more examples to give you some idea of what an agricultural people we once were, with an entire lexicon established around the shared experience of chicken tending: nest egg, hatch an idea, cock-eyed, feather your nest, hen house, mother hen, rule the roost, bad egg, walking on eggshells; and there are more. If you someday get your own hens, you will have the fun of conjuring up the rest yourself!

If thinking about hens and eggs is making you wonder about the quality of the eggs you find at the grocery store, here is my own deciphering of our modern egg labels: Understanding Egg Labels

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

Background

Factory farming began in the 1920s, and the timing is meaningful. This was just after the discovery of vitamins A and D. Once farmers could add these vitamins in synthetic form to animal feed, there was no longer a need to give animals access to pasture for sun and growth. There was no longer a need to have them live as animals do. So, motivated by a potential for increased profits, farmers moved their animals off of grass and onto industrial farms. The complication was that living in confinement and indoors made animals sick, but antibiotics–which came along in the 1940s–fixed that problem. Today, 80% of antibiotics are used on animals.

Egg Quality

When considering the quality of eggs, there are many factors to take into account. Chief among them is  their balance of essential fats; how hens live and what they eat affects this balance directly and the balance then affects us. Essential fats are called essential because we need them but can’t make them; we have to get these fats from food. They are called “omega-3″ and “omega-6.” There is much evidence to suggest that traditional diets balanced these two essential fats, which is what our bodies require. Now, however, most of us consume far more omega-6 than omega-3 fats, causing internal inflammation and perhaps explaining our epidemics of obesity and cancer, as well as high rates of heart disease and neurological problems.

What do essential fats have to do with how hens live and what they are fed? When chickens live indoors and are fed grain alone, they are living in a manufactured environment, which makes their eggs less than what nature intended; these eggs can contain up to 30 times more omega-6 fats than omega-3 fats. Hens on pasture produce eggs with a 1:1 essential fat ratio.  So hens that are outside absorbing vitamin D from the sun and eating bugs for protein have eggs (and meat) that are more nutritious; these eggs are also anti-inflammatory.

The Egg Labels

In the list below, I’ve attempted to decipher the most common egg labels. Some speak to how the hens live, others speak to what they are fed, and a few focus on both.

Pastured: This is the gold standard for an egg. Pastured eggs come from hens that roam free, foraging for grass, weeds, seeds and bugs. The hens return to a hen house at night to roost, nest and lay eggs; they are generally fed grain in the evening. Pastured eggs usually come from small farms, and are often sold at the farm itself, or at farmers’ markets or small health food stores. The label on these eggs will always include the word “pastured.” Because these hens live as hens should–on grass and in the sunshine, running, taking dust baths, eating bugs and pecking at the soil–their diet contains necessary minerals and their eggs have an ideal balance of essential fats. The question to ask the farmer is, “Did these eggs come from hens that live on pasture?”

High-Omega  or Omega-3 Enriched: This label refers specifically to what the hens eat: a diet rich in a source of omega-3 fats like flax seed or fish oil. If your concern is your own health and the balance of essential fats in your eggs, and if you do not have access to pastured eggs, these eggs might be a reasonable option. Note that, like most labels, this one is unregulated so, unless it is specified, there is no way to know the true omega-3 content of the eggs and there is no listing of what else the hens eat other than omega-3 rich foods. In addition, the label gives us no information about how the hens live. These eggs may have a better balance of essential fats than those that follow.

Without grass and sunshine for the hens, the following eggs all have an imbalance of essential fats:

Certified Organic: This label requires that hens be uncaged, but most live inside barns and warehouses. Access to the outdoors is a must, but it can be a small door that the hens neither know about nor use–”access” being the key word. The hens consume a certified-organic feed free of antibiotics, pesticides and genetically-modified ingredients, but beak cutting and forced molting through starvation (to simulate the natural molting that occurs when hens are exposed to sunlight) are allowed. Certified organic eggs are the only eggs is this list that have inspections and enforcement to ensure that guidelines are met. But know that while giving organic grain to hens without giving them access to pasture does make their eggs “organic;” it does not improve the life of the hens or make their eggs more nutritious. The yolks are still pale and the eggs are often shipped long distances.

Free-Range or  Free-Roaming: While there are no standards that qualify eggs as coming from free-range hens, these hens are most often uncaged and housed inside barns or warehouses with some access to the outdoors. They can sometimes enjoy natural behaviors like dust bathing, roosting and foraging, but there is no grass, and there are few bugs and little, if any, sunshine. We have no information about what free-range hens are fed, and beak cutting and forced molting are permitted.

Cage-Free: This label makes it seem as if the hens are on pasture, and it is meant to, but cage-free is a marketing term. Hens are uncaged, as the name suggests, but they most often live in a barn or warehouse without access to pasture. Beak cutting and forced molting are permitted. On the other hand, cage-free hens can walk, nest and spread their wings, which caged birds are prevented from doing.

Vegetarian-fed: To my mind, this might be the most misleading label, meant to make the eggs seem somehow virtuous. As I understand it, the label means that the hens’ feed contains no animal matter, but the hidden implication is that the hens are locked indoors. Bugs are a mainstay of a hen’s diet, and even small bugs that fly through the air will be food. To ensure that a hen eats no animal matter, I can surmise that a vegetarian-fed hen must be kept in a warehouse with no access to fresh air. If the point is consideration for all living beings, these eggs miss it entirely.

Fertile: This tells us that the hens that lay eggs live with a rooster, which probably means they are uncaged. But there is no guarantee and the label says little else about how the hens live or what they eat.

Hormone Free: Another label that sounds good, but means nothing. Hormones in poultry were banned in the 1960s.

Natural: This is a marketing term that has no consistent meaning, and tells us nothing about how the hens live or what they eat.

The Take-Home Message

Labels are necessary when we manufacture food, but eggs, in the ideal, are not manufactured. When hens are raised on pasture, we don’t need a fancy name or label; we simply need to know our farmer. Shop at farmers’ markets, farm stands or small health food stores for eggs from hens that live as they were meant to: on grass, in the sunshine, running, taking dust baths, and eating bugs. The egg carton will say “pastured,” and it is really this simple.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

It pays to look for ways to welcome anticipation back into our lives and, in the summer kitchen, making pickles is one way to do this. The process of making pickles slows us down because it unfolds over days or weeks and can’t be rushed. It is a process that has a beginning, middle and end and, with each phase, expectation builds.

There is, of course, a familiar and circular challenge: making pickles takes time when we have none to spare. But pickle making is unique among many kitchen endeavors in that it allows us to rely on an invisible team of helpmates: the bacterial cultures that make fermentation happen. These cultures move our labors along and toil for us as we tend to other tasks. Once we establish a home for them, we have the pleasure of observing their work–marveling at their bubbles, smelling, poking, and tasting from time to time.

What’s better is that if you are at home as much as I am, you will appreciate experiencing adventure without ever leaving your kitchen because pickle making is an endless source of mystery and wonder. The process is fascinating; it is also the cherished source of a quiet and particular kind of excitement.

© Photo courtesy of: DTR@Ruhlman.com

What I find most memorable about a good batch of homemade pickles is its telltale crunch: sour and salty, cool and refreshing, and especially welcome in the heat of summer. Each batch of pickles has subtle variations in taste, texture and color but, with each, you can bite into a pickle and hear and feel it give. This is what separates real pickles from all others.  Behind the crunch is the fact that real pickles are fermented in a salty brine, not preserved in vinegar; fermentation enhances their vitality and makes them a living food.

Homemade pickles are so easy to make. The recipe is as fool proof as a fermentation recipe can be, which is a confession of sorts. Once a summer, when it’s really hot and my kitchen is especially inviting to an army of microbes, I have a batch that fails. The reason why remains a mystery, but then how cucumbers become pickles is a mystery, too.

Here, then, is a recipe for you to use and enjoy. It comes from Wild Fermentation, by Sandor Katz, and has been tweaked a bit by me:

Ingredients

3-4 pounds small pickling cucumbers
6 tablespoons coarse sea salt (I use gray Celtic Sea Salt)
3-4 heads fresh flowering dill, or 3-4 tablespoons dill in any form
2-3 heads fresh garlic, scrubbed with loose peels discarded and cloves separated (there is no need to fully peel the cloves)
1 handful fresh oak, horseradish, cherry or grape leaves
6-8 whole black peppercorns

Recipe

1. Rinse cucumbers and scrape off any remaining blossoms. If you are using cucumbers that were not just picked, soak them for a couple of hours in cold water to freshen them. Then, using a small toothpick, poke a hole in the stem end of each cucumber.

2. Place sea salt in 1/2 gallon of filtered water to create a brine solution. Stir until the sea salt is thoroughly dissolved.

3. Clean your crock. I use a Harsch Pickling Crock, but the recipe will also work with any ceramic crock (in this case, you will also need a plate that fits inside the crock, a gallon jug of water or other weight, and a dishcloth to cover). Then, at the bottom of the crock, place the dill, garlic cloves, fresh leaves (most often, I use fresh grape leaves), and peppercorns.

4. Place the cucumbers in the crock and gently cover them with either the Harsch weights or a plate. Then add enough brine to cover the cucumbers by several inches. If you do not have enough brine, mix more using the same ratio of just under 1 tablespoon of coarse sea salt to 1 cup of water.

5. If you are using a Harsch crock, cover the crock with its lid and then fill the outer rim with water. If you are using an ordinary crock, gently place the jug of water on the plate and cover the crock and jug with a dish towel to keep out dust.

6. In either case, check the crock every few days. Skim any mold from the surface, but don’t worry if you can’t get it all. If you are using an ordinary crock, you may want to rinse any mold from the plate and jug and replace them, taking care that all pickles are submerged under the plate.

7. Taste the pickles 7-10 days after starting them. If you like the flavor, you can enjoy them from the crock as they ferment over several weeks. Or you can remove them from the crock and store them, covered, in the refrigerator. In this case, strain the brine you used for pickling and add it to the storage jar, covering the pickles completely. If you are fond of garlic, you can also collect the whole garlic cloves from the crock, cover them with brine and store them in a separate jar in the refrigerator.

I love experimenting in the kitchen, which means I learn many lessons through trial and error. Based on my own experience, here are some hard-won pickle-making tips: Pickle-Making Wisdom

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

• It is best to make pickles from small cucumbers, usually Kirby, that are the freshest you can find. If they are not recently picked, soak them in cold water to revive them. Fresh Kirbys are easy to get at farmers’ markets all summer long. They don’t all need to be the same size, but look for the smallest, “tightest,” cucumbers and forgo those that are large–even if they are labeled Kirby–as you will not get a good result. Juicy cucumbers are not a pickle maker’s friend.
• Since proper crunch is essential, it is important to know the secret behind it: it seems to be the leaves you place in the pickling crock with the rest of your ingredients. According to fermentation guru, Sandor Katz, it’s the tannin in these leaves that preserves the crunch. I used to use oak leaves; I now use fresh grape leaves and these are my preference. Katz says that cherry and horseradish leaves work as well.
• Homemade pickles are fermented, and later preserved, in a salty brine. After getting a batch or two of pickles that didn’t preserve well, I tried making a fresh brine for storing finished pickles. This new brine ruined the pickles as I was never able to attain the correct ratio of salt to water.  To avoid the heartache that comes with ruining perfectly good pickles, strain your pickling brine and use it to store your finished pickles.
• Most pickle recipes call for dill heads; these are flowers that form at the end of dill stalks as they grow in the garden. If you like to grow herbs and you simply allow your dill to go to seed, you will have all the dill heads you need. If you have no garden, you can use a fresh bunch of purchased dill and this will work, too.
• Knowing that beneficial compounds in garlic are released when cloves are cut or crushed, I tried cutting the garlic that I added to my brine and this approach ruined several batches of pickles. It is not a good idea to create such a potent garlic flavor if you want to keep your friends and family close to you; whole garlic cloves give a more pleasing result.
• Cucumbers are held under weight in the pickle-making crock. It took me years to learn that this weight should not put any real pressure on the cucumbers. On the contrary, it should be placed gently on top as its only purpose is to submerge the cucumbers under the brine.
• Mold, alas, is part of the pickle-making process. Do not fear it. You can skim and toss it if there’s a lot. As long as mold stays on the surface of the brine and doesn’t touch the tops of the cucumbers, you will get good pickles. When you are ready to store the pickles, skim the mold. Then strain the brine into your storage container.
• In my New Jersey kitchen, pickles predictably take ten days to mature. You might eat yours earlier or later depending on the flavor you seek. They improve, for a time, after you store them in the refrigerator. I have had success keeping pickles for a couple of months, but not longer than that.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

Blocks away, in my Italian kitchen, I could feel the bustle and energy of the market. People streamed toward it from every direction–on foot, bicycle, or motorcycle–and I joined them each morning as I set out to gather ingredients for the day’s meals.

What the mercato offered was a vision; even now, it takes no effort to conjure it in my mind. Barrels of capers in salt. Anchovies. Artichokes. Fresh beans in their pods. Porcini mushrooms and handfuls of wild mint to go with them. More vegetables and fruit, full of color, odd shapes and personalities, and all at the peak of ripeness, the best and most they would ever be. There was rich, creamy yogurt that must have been a thousand calories. There were fresh whole fish that smelled of salt air and sea, squat yellow peaches, and eggs with deep golden yolks. Rather than pack these eggs twelve to a carton, the farmers offered them one by one, each a treasure.

© Photo courtesy of: DTR@Ruhlman.com

Perhaps my favorite moments at the mercato were when I needed herbs, aromatiques. The farmers treated them as weeds and gave them away free and by the handful, choosing which herbs to offer based on what I bought. The assumption was that I would know what to do with them, that I knew how to cook; and I did, because the ingredients spoke a language, not in words but by some otherworldly means, that told me how they wanted to be prepared. I had only to observe and respond, imposing little, and my meals never tasted so good.

As I reflect on the way I gathered food before my Italian adventure, I can point to an emptiness, to a missing story in vegetables neatly packed into grocery store bins, or in shrink-wrapped meat displayed on uniform refrigerator shelves. I knew nothing of the farmer, the farm, or the story behind this food.

Shopping at the mercato reminded me that food comes from some place and some one, that behind every bite we eat are hands and hearts that bring food from the fields so we can put it on the table. Behind every bite are stories that most of us have lost and that we can learn again by getting to know our farmers.

I realize that shopping at farmers’ markets may not be a way to restore anything we have actually lost; it may, in fact, imitate a slow-paced way of gathering and savoring food that was never an integral part of our food culture. I’m not sure. But knowing the animals who will provide, or become, our dinner is not new, and knowing the farmers who put seeds into the soil and pull vegetables out of it is not new either. Finally, enjoying the process of gathering food, and spending time doing it, has enriched us since the beginning of time.

Visiting a farmers’ market each week may not work for everyone, and it may not work all of the time. But it is possible, especially now and for most of us. If we make it a priority, we can participate in the process of reaping the harvest, and it’s worth it because where else can you find so many happy people engaged in food commerce: buying and selling, swapping recipes, and sharing details of the harvest? Where else can you inhale the aroma of fresh, beautiful ingredients while you shop? And where can you find more potent inspiration than from deliciously ripe, seasonal food?

Finding Love (Or a Farmers’ Market) Of Your Own

Farmers’ markets have become hip and they’re increasing in number, with more than 6,000 spread across the country and, as of this winter, at least 900 open year-round. Regardless of the season, farmers’ markets provide more than just food. By reorganizing the buying and selling of ingredients around fresh air and community, they add vitality and interest to a process that might otherwise be depleting. In contrast to supermarket shopping, farmers’ markets lift our spirits by connecting us to others and allowing us to exercise our right to choose food that’s wholesome, fresh and nourishing.

To find a market near you, follow this link: Local Harvest. Or this one: USDA. And if you feel like skipping the market and going straight to the farm, have a look at this site: Eat Wild.

More Reasons to Connect to Local Farmers and Farms

If you have any doubt about the importance of knowing where our food comes from, how it was grown, and by whom, take 18 minutes to watch this exceptional video: Robyn O’Brien’s Personal Story. You will be glad you did. It’s one of the most powerful TED talks I have seen.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

Background

Both sweet and savory baked goods can pose health concerns for a variety of reasons:

• When we eat baked goods made with white flour, blood sugar can spike upward after eating (the glycemic index, or carbohydrate component, is too high).
• When we eat baked goods made with with whole-grain flour, blood sugar remains relatively stable, but phytic acid* stored in the bran may prevent us from absorbing such minerals as iron, calcium, magnesium and zinc. This can lead, over time, to mineral depletion and bone loss.
• When we bake with white or whole-grain flour and allow the batter to rest (soak) for a period of hours before baking, phytic acid is reduced, but grains become super-digestible and the result is a dramatic spike in blood sugar (the glycemic index is again too high).

The problem, then, is circular in nature, with each solution creating a new problem.

As a sourdough bread baker and teacher, I knew that sourdough creates an ideal carbohydrate: bread with a low glycemic index and almost no phytic acid due to the dough’s long rest before baking. I therefore wondered if I could use sourdough to improve the healthfulness of everyday baked goods by adding it to a batter and then allowing it to rest for a period of hours, just as when making sourdough bread. I believed this approach would lower the glycemic index of baked goods and reduce their phytic acid, a simple and elegant solution to the challenges listed above. This approach might be useful to those with insulin resistance or diabetes, those with mineral deficiencies (like low calcium or iron), and those who simply wish to lower the blood sugar impact of the baked goods they consume.

The rest of this post describes my tests and their promising results.

A Graphic Summary of Test Results

Sourdough is an ancient leavener, created when wild yeasts and beneficial bacteria feed on a mixture of flour and water. Sourdough preserves, moistens, and leavens baked goods. It also reduces or eliminates phytic acid and improves the nutritional value of foods. Since sourdough is easy to maintain in a home kitchen, the goal of my experiments was to explore whether I could use sourdough in everyday baking to lower the glycemic index of baked goods and to reduce their phytic acid.

Test Results

I conducted four series of tests** centered around two recipes, one savory (buttermilk biscuits) and one sweet (banana muffins). In each case, I prepared the recipes using stone-ground flour, which may be important. The results of these tests were consistent and clear.

• The top chart summarizes the results of adding sourdough to a savory biscuit recipe. The whole-wheat sourdough biscuit–soaked for 24 hours–caused only a modest rise in blood sugar and gave the most impressive result (see the red bottom line on the graph). These biscuits had the lowest blood sugar impact after 30 minutes, which is when blood sugar typically spikes upward, and provided the most substantial satiety and blood sugar stability. You can see this in the low arc, and the slow, steady blood sugar decline. This last factor illustrates why lessening blood sugar impact can also prevent hunger and overeating. In contrast, soaking a whole-wheat batter with buttermilk instead of sourdough causes blood sugar to spike and then plummet (the blue top line).
• The bottom chart summarizes the results of adding sourdough to a sweetened banana muffin. The whole-wheat sourdough muffin–soaked for 12 hours–gave the best result (see the blue line on the graph). These muffins caused a moderate increase in blood sugar, coupled with sustained blood sugar levels over a full two hours and a slow, steady decline. Interestingly, in this experiment the same sourdough batter soaked for 24 hours  (the yellow line) yielded the worst results. More research would be needed to understand why.
• While not illustrated in the charts, I conducted further tests to determine the quantity of sourdough needed to achieve these same results. Using just one quarter the amount of sourdough worked, proving that where a sour taste is not desired, less sourdough can be used. (I have so far experimented with using as little as 1 ounce of sourdough starter to 31 ounces of  savoy biscuit dough to achieve this same result.)
• In each case, unsoaked whole-wheat batters traced a gentle glycemic curve but, without soaking, phytic acid in the finished baked good may remain an issue.
• Test results also indicated that the inclusion of sourdough in a batter–but without a soak–has no impact on the glycemic index. A soak is required, and soaking time seems to matter.

Conclusion

These tests demonstrated that we can indeed use sourdough to reduce the glycemic index of everyday baked goods and to reduce their phytic acid, as long as the flours we use are stone-ground (see below), and as long as we allow the batter or dough to rest before baking. In these experiments, a 12-hour sourdough soak rendered the best results in sweetened baked goods. For savory baked goods, a 24-hour soak worked better. Soaking with buttermilk, and without sourdough, caused blood sugar to spike dramatically and then plummet downward. In recipes where a sour taste is not needed, sourdough can comfortably be cut to a quarter of the amount initially tested.

There is more to learn. Most importantly, what is the ideal amount of sourdough and length of soaking time needed to give the optimum result? Also, studies by others show that stone-ground flour is necessary for lowering blood sugar. My own tests confirmed this, but a closer look is needed. Finally, in what other varieties of baked goods can we use sourdough to lower glycemic response, and where is this a palatable approach and where is it not? From a culinary perspective, I have used sourdough in other sweetened baked goods (cakes–including chocolate cakes, cookies, cornbread, muffins and quick breads) and achieved a very good result, often better than without. On the savory side, I have made sourdough pizza, pancakes, English muffins, and a variety of breads. All this is to say that sourdough offers delicious potential to lower the glycemic index of everyday baked goods.

Copyright 2011, Ellen Arian, Ellen’s Food & Soul

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* Phytic acid is a nutrient inhibitor found in the outer layer–the “bran”–of whole grains. It can inhibit our ability to absorb calcium, magnesium, iron and zinc, as well as digestive enzymes such as pepsin and amylase.

** I conducted these tests in my home kitchen, and I have normal insulin responses. My measurements were exact and portions were controlled with tests conducted at the first morning meal following a 12-hour overnight fast. I consumed only the baked good being tested and water. Using a True2Go blood glucose monitor, I measured blood sugar before eating, and again at 30-60 and 120 minutes after eating.

• The first tests determined how savory and sweetened baked goods, prepared with both white and whole-wheat flour, affect blood sugar. I conducted these tests on just-prepared batters, and on batters allowed to rest for 12 and 24 hours before baking. I added no sourdough to these batters.
• The second tests explored whether the addition of sourdough, both with a rest and without, has an impact on glycemic response.
• The third tests explored whether an acid other than sourdough–in this case, buttermilk–might impact glycemic response.
• The fourth tests attempted to determine how much sourdough is needed to lower glycemic response.