Built to Last

Don’t be fooled by the recent fanfare, the pickle’s not a trend. According to the New York Food Museum's Pickle History Timeline at http://www.nyfoodmuseum.org/_ptime.htm, the first known use for the pickle dates back as far as 2400 B.C. That’s right! Even before there was a Christ, there was a pickle.  Aristotle and Cleopatra apparently lauded their health affects and Caesar fed them to his troops.  But the true purpose of the pickle, the reason they were born in the first place, was to preserve the harvest, keep it going strong through the months of dearth.  It was necessary, not frivolous, but what people got was a handy little bite that could withstand the test of time.

It was this sympathy for over abundance, and for preservation, that made me attempt to "put up" my first batch of pickles this November. For me, the inspiration was not an over abundance of cucumbers, but an over abundance of stuff.  I was newly engaged and prepping to merge my long-standing single-woman apartment with my fiancés well-worn bachelor abode.   With too many trips to value village, where I rang the bell reluctantly and dropped off dog-eared books and once loved clothing, I realized that I wished there was a way to keep all this stuff from my old life safe somewhere, and have it still be useful later, pickle it, in a way. 

A few weeks later when the purging had reached its end and we were settling into a new life of two-ness, the drive to preserve was still on my mind, but so was the need to be domestic.  Being somewhat eccentric, I didn’t want to just be domestic in all the usual ways. I wanted to do it in a throw-back DIY way, and try my hand at something that would quell the empty feeling leftover from the parting of my things, while at the same time making my fiancé say:  “Damn I’m glad I picked her!” I would pickle! 

Liana Krissoff’s Canning for a New Generation is not only full of great tips on how to not kill people with the things you preserve, but it contains amazing recipes for things like Meyer Lemon and Rose Petal Marmalade and Chamomile-Scented Strawberry Syrup.  I thumbed through the pages and envisioned a pantry glowing with brightly colored, delicious preserves. 

Never mind the fact that we don’t have a pantry and I’d never canned a thing in my life.  I set out to can something I had in my Full Circle Farms box, which unfortunately didn’t include strawberries or lemons, with the zeal of a person happily devoted to a new cause.  And that’s how my first batch of Zucchini Bread-and-Butter Pickles with Ginger was born.  Here is the recipe with a little of my own tweaking:

Zucchini Bread and Butter Pickles with Ginger

Inspired by Liana Krissoff

From:  Canning for a New Generation

Makes about 6 pint jars

4 lbs zucchini

1 lb onions

¼ plus 1 tablespoon pure kosher salt

2 tablespoons coriander seeds

1 tablespoon yellow mustard seeds

2 ½ teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes (less if you don’t want it spicy)

6 cups cider vinegar (5% acidity)

¾ cup honey

1 ½ teaspoons turmeric

1 ½ teaspoons dry mustard powder

12 thin rounds fresh ginger

You’ll also need:

1 big canning pot which you can find in a standard size at most hardware stores (Yes, they have a canning section!)

1 canning rack, which should come with the pot

1 jar lifter (You can also use tongs with rubber bands around the ends)

1 chopstick

First steps:

Rinse the zucchini, getting off any dirt, and make each slice about ¼ inch thick.  Halve the onions lengthwise and thinly slice them.  In a large bowl, combine the onions and zucchini and add ¼ cup Kosher salt mixing well with the ingredients.  Put a layer of ice over everything, cover with plastic wrap or a plate, and refrigerate overnight or for 8 hours.  Wash six-pint jars and let dry.

Wait. And wait.

Once the pickles are nearly marinated, you’ll want to get your water bath ready.  This means you should fill a large canning pot with enough water to cover the jars by at least one inch. Once you’ve filled the pot, put the canning rack in the bottom, put the lid on and turn on high heat.  The water will probably take about a half an hour to boil.  

Stuff you’ll need to get ready in the meantime:

While the water bath is waiting to boil, you should get out your well-marinated pickles!  Strain them, get rid of any ice chunks, and rinse them under cold water. Put them back in the bowl and add the coriander, mustard seed and red pepper flakes and toss.   

Get out a chopstick, a jar lifter or some tongs with rubber bands wrapped around the ends, and lay out a dishtowel on a clean and empty counter space. 

Next steps:

Once the water’s boiling, put the lids to the jars in a clean pan or heat-proof bowl and ladle boiling water over them, covering them.  This will sterilize them and get them ready to seal.  Put the washed jars into the boiling water, with 1 inch of water covering them and let them boil for 10 minutes. 

Making brine in the meantime:

While the jars are sterilizing, combine the vinegar, 1 ½ cups water, the honey, turmeric, ground mustard and 1 tablespoon of kosher salt in a non-reactive pot (not aluminum or copper).  Bring to a boil.

Back to the jars:

When the jars are ready, take them out with the tongs, pouring the water back into the pot carefully, and put them upright on the dishtowel.  Drain the jar lids and put them on the towel too.

At a nice clip, you’ll want to put 2 slices of ginger in the bottom of each jar, pack the zucchini and onions into the jars lightly, and then ladle the hot brine over them leaving ½ inch headspace at the top.  Pop the air bubbles with a chopstick.  If you don’t do this, they will ruin your precious pickles.  You don’t have to worry about the tiny ones, but make sure you turn the jar carefully to find and pop all the big ones that you can see lurking down the sides.  Use a damp towel to wipe the rims of each jar and then put a flat lid and a ring on each jar, adjusting the ring so that it’s on but not too tight.  You should be able to unscrew it easily with just your fingertips.  Return the full jars to the water in the canning pot, giving them each room.  Make sure the water covers them by at least one inch, and bring to a boil.  Boil for 15 minutes. 

Remove the jars with the jar lifter and put them on a clean towel in a place where they won’t get touched, or bumped for 12 hours.  After an hour or so, they should seal.  You’ll know this when you hear them pop.  If you want to test to see if they have sealed, you can press down on the lids.  If you can press them up and down, they have not sealed.  They should feel like they are sucked tight to the jar.  If any of your jars don’t seal, refrigerate them and eat them right away. Label the rest and store in your pantry.  Spread the pickle love!

…

I no sooner had the zucchini from my farm box sliced, iced and covered with onion when the refrigerator decided to, well, stop refrigerating.  It was as if the pre-Frigidaire ghosts wanted me to know what it was really like to pickle.  Luckily the ice kept them cold long enough to adequately marinate before I dunked them in brine.  “Honey” I proudly shouted to my love as I pulled the warm milk from the fridge and poured it down the sink, “Even if all our food goes bad, we’ll still be able to eat the pickles!” 

But I was getting ahead of myself.  Because, pickling is not like cooking; it is like baking:  a precise and chemical art that doesn’t bode well for a free-styler like me.  You must do EXACTLY what the directions say.  That includes popping the air bubbles with chopsticks, and screwing on the lids not too tightly so they have room to seal.  It also involves waiting for each jar to give its signature “pop” to let you know it’s done.

Once the jars were filled and sitting snuggly on their towel, waiting to seal, I stared at them for a while, determined to wait them out.  But jar-gazing isn’t terribly entertaining and I soon got sleepy.

When they finally popped around midnight, I opened my eyes.  My fiancé was curled up beside me, my pickles were finally done, and for the first time I felt the brand new pang of home, well preserved.

My first pickles.