Pickling Day

I know for certain I imprinted on my mother as surely as a mallard chick imprints on Mama Duck.  I can envision how it must have happened some 50 years ago.  My dad had waited patiently for hours as I took my sweet time coming into the world.  Finally, the doctor sent him away to get some lunch, assuring him it would be awhile.  But while he was away, things began to happen rather quickly and I made my entrance.  My mom says back in 1960 they anesthetized the mother so completely she just woke up and was handed a baby, somewhat unsure of how it all came to be.  My mother may have been a little woozy when she was handed her first born daughter, but I am sure I was wide awake when they put me in her arms.  I can imagine that when I looked into her face, all the synapses fell into place.  Something must have been birthed in me at that instant that would compel me to follow her, watch her, learn from her and begin to develop an affinity for all the things she did and loved.  As soon as I was old enough to stand, my favorite place to be was on a chair beside her in the kitchen watching her cook.  Or in a chair behind her with my hands on her shoulders as she sat at the sewing machine.  I loved all her "motherly" pursuits and began to putter alongside her as soon as I was able.

Fifty years later we are still puttering side by side.  Today, it is pickling day.  I bought a big sack of cucumbers at Allegri Farm Market before I left Baldwin County, thoughts straining ahead anticipating the aroma of warm sugared vinegar spiced with cloves and allspice and cinnamon that would soon fill my mother's homey kitchen. She makes what she calls "Summer Crisps" about this time every year, a small batch recipe for refrigeration.  I simply adore eating them with sandwiches or burgers, and truth be told, I am most happy to lob them onto my plate as if they are a side dish unto themselves.  Needless to say, a quart or two won't last very long with my appetite for this sweet sour concoction.


And just as I love sweet sour pickles, Paul put in his request for a kosher dill version.  And to help things along, he found a recipe with his name on it in this month's Men's Health Magazine.  So now we have three quarts of pickles beautifully made, just waiting on a taste test.  Unfortunately, they have to mellow in the brine for awhile before we can issue our report.  The Summer Crisps are tried and true, but the dill pickles will have to be duly sampled before we can declare them a part of our regular repertoire.  Tonight, I offer these recipes and pictures for your perusal.  Check back tomorrow to hear whether or not they are an unqualified success!

Quarts 1 and 2 are Summer Crisps; on the far right are the Dill Pickles

Cucumbers in salt and ice bath

Summer Cucumber Crisps
12 pickling cucumbers or 7-8 regular cucumbers
1/1/2 Tbs. table salt
1 pint white vinegar
1-1/2 cups sugar
2 Tbs. whole cloves
2 Tbs. whole allspice
2 bay leaves
2 sticks cinnamon
2 Tbs. celery seed
1 Tbs. peppercorns
1 tsp. ground ginger


1.  Thinly slice cucumbers and put in a large bowl. Sprinkle with salt and toss with some ice.  Cover with water and allow to soak for about an hour.  Drain. 
2.  Combine all other ingredients (vinegar through ginger) in a medium saucepan.  Bring to a boil.  Cool and strain.
3.  Pack sterilized jars with cucumbers (makes about 1-1/2 quarts.)  Cover with strained marinade.  Let stand for an hour and refrigerate.  READY TO EAT!!

Note:  After an afternoon of pickling on Meatless Monday, we found ourselves starving at about 8:00 pm and loathe to heat up the kitchen again.  Served alongside egg salad sandwiches, these were perfection!

Basic Quick Dill Pickles 
6-8 pickling cucumbers, cut in quarters lengthwise
1-1/2 tsp. salt
1-1/2 cups white vinegar
3 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
1 tbs. Kosher salt
1-1/2 Tbs. sugar
1-1/2 Tbs. pickling spice
15 peppercorns
5 sprigs dill


1.  Place cucumbers in a bowl sprinkled with salt.  Add some ice and cover with water.  Let stand for an hour and drain.  Pack cucumbers into a sterilized quart jar.  
2.  Put next 6 ingredients (vinegar through peppercorns) in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil.
3.  Pour over cucumbers.  Add dill sprigs, pushing down into jar.
5.  Let cucumbers come to room temperature and refrigerate 24 hours before serving.


Note:  I will add an update tomorrow night with a taste test report on the dill pickles.


Update:  I had one of the kosher dills after breakfast this morning.  Although not the best time to stick your hand in the pickle jar, I couldn't wait any longer to taste.  These are quite good!  Very crunchy and garlicky and dilly.  Just bought more cucumbers at the market to make another batch.

Lagniappe

Mark Twain:  "We picked up one excellent word--a word worth traveling to New Orleans to get; a nice limber, expressive, handy word--'lagniappe.' They pronounce it lanny-yap. It is Spanish--so they said. We discovered it at the head of a column of odds and ends in the Picayune, the first day; heard twenty people use it the second; inquired what it meant the third; adopted it and got facility in swinging it the fourth. It has a restricted meaning, but I think the people spread it out a little when they choose. It is the equivalent of the thirteenth roll in a 'baker's dozen.' It is something thrown in, gratis, for good measure. The custom originated in the Spanish quarter of the city. ... If the waiter in the restaurant stumbles and spills a gill of coffee down the back of your neck, he says 'For lagniappe, sah,' and gets you another cup without extra charge."
- Life on the Mississippi


Mr. Webster describes lagniappe as "a small gift given a customer for good measure at the time of a purchase," or "something given or obtained gratuitously or by way of good measure."


What an excellent word, a worthwhile concept, perhaps a precept to live by--go a little beyond what is expected, give a little more, go the second mile. 


This sounds a little like lagniappe to me:   "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.  Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.  Honor one another above yourselves.  Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.  Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Share with God's people who are in need.  Practice hospitality."  Romans 12:9-13


What is lagniappe, if not hospitality?  It is the baker's dozen, the thirteenth oyster on the half shell, the neighbor who drops off some freshly picked okra, the casserole delivered to a grieving friend, the volunteer who shows up every week at the local soup kitchen, the smile and kind word for the harried check out clerk, letting someone go ahead of you in the grocery line.  It is not being too busy to care, to speak, to see beneath the surface, to ask, "How are you?" and wait for an answer.  And really listen.


Lagniappe!

And here is a little culinary lagniappe. I attended a monthly gathering of women in my neighborhood last night where we all were asked to bring a finger food.  I decided a big bowl of guacamole would be just the cool refreshment for a hot summer night.  I used to make guacamole according to the "more is more" theory.  I'd add a little of this, a dash of that, a dollop of something else, resulting in a crunchy melange of flavor containing an accent of avocado.   That was okay, until we found something better.  My husband is a willing bird dog as he mines his reading material for recipes we might enjoy trying.  It is the darnedest thing, but we have found some really stellar recipes in his Men's Health Magazines.  We found a recipe for Char Chicken Tacos (what is it with me and tacos?) with accompanying preparation instructions for an incredibly minimalist guacamole.  It has become our guacamole of choice.  It is so easy and simple, I feel guilty including it as a recipe on this blog.  You probably already have your own favorite way to make guac.  But this has become ours, so I share it today as a bit of lagniappe.  (By the way, I watched surreptitiously last night as a number of women went back for seconds, thirds and more and came home with a very empty bowl.)

Our Favorite Guacamole


one avocado, peeled and pit removed
juice of one lime
one small clove garlic, finely minced
one bunch cilantro, chopped
salt, to taste


Dice avocado and combine with other ingredients, mashing avocado only slightly so some serious chunks remain.  Serve with tortilla chips or with your favorite taco.  Be warned: fresh garlic can be sly and insidious in any recipe.  More is definitely not MORE when it comes to garlic.  When I say "small" clove here, I mean SMALL.  If you increase this recipe (and I increase it often,) do so exponentially with all ingredients except the garlic.  Taste with one clove and add more judiciously.  Last night I used three avocados, three limes and one small and one medium clove garlic.  


Here is a little lagniappe lagniappe:  Long ago, in a land very far away when I was a much younger woman, I loved to lunch at a place in Decatur, Georgia, called Rainbow Grocery.  Rainbow Grocery is still there (and wonderful,) but they no longer have the full service cafe they once had.  Back in the day, they had a lovely sandwich called the "Guacamento."  It was a sandwich prepared on whole wheat bread with a generous slick of pimento cheese topped with an equal amount of guacamole, lettuce and tomato.  It was amazing.  Some people scoff, yea, turn up their noses at the mere description of this delicacy.  But those of us in the know rave about it still and have found ways to accommodate a sometimes insatiable craving for the "Guacamento."

And finally, a last lagniappe.  Do you have one of these?

I use this fun little implement all the time.  It is the best way to juice your citrus fruits.  Buy the orange one because it can accommodate oranges, lemons and limes, not all at the same time, of course.  Here is a link in case you want your very own!