From Crock to Can: A Sauerkraut's Life Journey.

On February 9 I packed a one gallon crock full of salted cabbage. Over the next couple days I pressed it down, until finally it was submerged in its own salty liquid. I covered it and put it in a dark corner of the garage.

For the next couple of weeks I compulsively checked it, my first home fermentation project, impatient for a transformation. I knew that it would take several weeks, if not months, to become that tangy, funky, and thoroughly nourishing German staple we all know and love, but I couldn't stop looking. And doubting.

As I started more and more projects, my attention wandered from the cabbage, until, would you look at that, it's been a solid three months; I'd better check. I lifted the top, fully expecting to find moldy, fly-ridden rotten veg, but what wafted up to greet me was pleasantly sour, and somehow even smelled alive. It crunched like cabbage, but tasted like another being altogether. Pricklingly acidic, earthy, vegetal, robust, brimming with life.

Knowing I didn't want to lose the vivacity of our new friend in the garage, but also realizing that we would most likely not get around to eating it all before the temperature rose to summer heights and carried our sauerkraut over the fermentation Sour Cliff and into the Abyss of Off Flavors, I canned it.

I know, I know, I just killed a living being. I took all that natural health-giving bacteria and cooked it, rendering it just another can in the cupboard. But then again, I'd rather have four quarts of delicious preserve than a crock of what might have been.

Filone

Someday I will have a wood-burning oven, most likely made of brick, and probably in my backyard. I first need a house, a backyard, and either the skills to build or the money to pay someone to build, but it will happen. Someday.

For now I make do with a 500 degree electric oven, a baking stone, and a smoke-filled kitchen (and adjoining living room). One look at the crust and I know it's not "real" bread, but for the tools I'm working with, it'll do for now.

Springtime

Olive oil poached halibut, fried leeks, asparagus and fava beans in briny beurre blanc.

The Time Has Come

To my fans out there (both of you): I have finally been persuaded onto the facebook bandwagon. Check us out! HomeSkilletDining

The Big Sock

Pizza night is becoming a regular event. We decided to toss a calzone into the mix this time. Not bad looking? Pretty delicious, too.

Nice Little Tuesday

I felt like rolling pasta, Sarah wanted peas, so we put them together: fresh spaghetti with English peas, mint, and bread crumbs.

Paired it with a 1994 Kalin Chardonnay, nutty and herbal and tropical all at once.