Is that a pickle … Let's not argue about definitions

To me, a pedant and a purist, a pickle by rights ought to have gone through a proper fermentation. It might have been pasteurised afterwards and bottled, but at some stage it needs to have supported microbial activity. And yet, I don’t think of kombucha as pickled tea or yoghurt as pickled milk. Maybe that’s because they aren’t salted. Just being boiled in vinegar or soaked in brine doesn’t qualify either, for me.

Luckily Jan Davison, author of Pickles: A Global History, has a much more open mind, which is great, because I learned a lot from her little book. And it gave us plenty to talk about.

However, there was plenty we didn’t talk about, or at least not in detail.

Sushi I had no idea about the history of sushi, so I went looking.
* From the bibliography in Jan’s book, I found Traditional Japanese Foods and the Mystery of Fermentation, which in turn led me to Food Culture, a journal published by Kikkoman. That will keep me occupied for years.
* Far less demanding, a little article on Fermented Sushi, the origin of Sushi.
* And if that gives you a taste for the real thing, Tokuyamazushi: Wild dining from lake and forest in Shiga in The Japan Times has the lowdown.

Refrigerator pickles Again, my ignorance knows no bounds. So while I have been perfectly happy slicing cucumbers and onions, sprinkling them with a bit of salt and leaving them in the fridge overnight, I’ve never thought of them as pickles. There are scores and scores of recipes for such things; I’ll leave finding them as an exercise.

Piccalilli Truly, I had forgotten the delight of mixing bright yellow picalilli into the mash that invariably accompanied English sausages in my youth. I like to think it was about taste as much as it was about colour, but I may be fooling myself. While I have never made my own, I am resolved to give it a go, using the recipe and instructions shared by my friend Katie Venner at Tracebridge in Somerset. They give lessons too, in fermentation and sourdough.

Notes

  1. If you haven’t already seen it, Samin Nosrat’s wonderful series on Netflix is a joy. Episode Two, on salt, has a fair bit on Japanese pickles.
  2. Photos by me, in Izmir, Turkey, and at home.

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What a bunch of turkeys Arrested on suspicion of cheerfulness

I successfully ignored the Great American Blowout last year, and I have nothing new this year. But I was stung by being left out of a round-up of stuff to listen to before and after your turkey, so I am thawing out some old favourites here.

  • As an antipasto, in Talking turkey, Greg Laden explained how explorers heading west thought they were in the east and gave the bird its name.
  • The main course went further, with A partial history of the turkey, with Greg Laden again and Nancy Sorrells, a local historian in Rockingham County, Virgina. Why there? You’ll just have to listen.
  • Helping that to go down, Joe Smith explained in Another helping of turkey how the wild turkey is “the greatest conservation success story”.

But the real reason for this stealthy, under-the-radar post is to share again Calvin Trillin reading his own, perfect little story about the first thanksgiving, which previously I had hidden away on Patreon.

Cover photo by HuangavinOwn work, CC BY 3.0, from Wikimedia Commons.

Not so plain vanilla

Speaking of vanilla, … A very odd story caught my eye.

Bronze Age people in Israel were the first known vanilla users

Obvious clickbait, right. I mean, vanilla came originally from Mexico, as any fule kno. The photo, of highly ordinary vanilla pods in a very modern plastic basket confirmed my suspicions. The caption:

Although long considered a product that originated in ancient Mexico, vanilla — which is extracted from beans such as these — was used by Middle Easterners around 3,600 years ago, a new study finds.

Well dodgy, but not exactly wrong. Not exactly.

My first thought was that maybe the archaeologists had fooled themselves. After all, pure vanillin is a byproduct of the degeneration of lignin. Maybe a bit of decomposing wood contaminated the juglets in which the stuff was found. But no. The truth is even more interesting, and hidden deep in Science News’ account.

For a start, the juglets also contained traces of olive oil. And while plain vanilla usually signifies the species Vanilla planifolia, there are, in fact more than 100 different species around the world. Vanessa Linares, the archaeologist who identified the compounds, refers to “the vanilla orchid” in an abstract of her research. In fact, she compared the compounds she found with those produced by other species of Vanilla, and suggests that it could have come from one of three different species.

After a close study of vanilla orchid plants, three different species were identified as possible sources for vanilla exploitation in antiquity: V. polylepsis [sic] Summerh (central east Africa), V. albidia Blume (India), and V. abundiflora J.J. Sm. (southeast Asia).

I think, under the circumstances, I might have written “a vanilla orchid”.

Anyway, parsimony suggests (to me) it was V. polylepis from east Africa which, although apparently showy and widespread, was not described formally until 1951. If it did travel from east Africa to the Levant, that is impressive enough. Even more so is that the people who traded it 4000 years ago knew how to undertake the painstaking fermentation that is the secret to the odour and flavour of natural vanilla. The pods barely smell, and certainly not of vanilla.

So yes, not quite what Science News was trying to sell, but pretty interesting all the same. And a project for some enterprising breeder in east Africa: Domesticate your local vanilla.

Also at agro.biodiver.se.

What to use when you can’t afford vanilla

In June, vanilla was more expensive than silver, according to the Financial Times. That was probably why I was able to share an article about the crazy behaviour of vanilla farmers in Madagascar at the beginning of October. So vanilla was on my mind when Charmaine McFarlane and I chatted about pastry for the most recent episode. We talked about how the price of vanilla has encouraged her to broaden the range of flavours she uses, and that reminded me of a discussion on Instagram that started with another baker, who calls herself ravenbreads.

Above a picture of diligently smashed apricot kernels, because “bitter almond is easy and versatile,” she asked what other flavours were worth further explorations. Suggestions came thick and fast.

  • Malted grains, blue fenugreek (Trigonella caerulea, closely related to ordinary fenugreek T. foenum-graecum but milder, widely used in Georgian cooking.)
  • Make your own; fair trade organic vanilla beans and an organic vodka on sale. “I am making 2250 mL and the whole thing is costing me 70 bucks. Plus once you make your own you’ll never go back it’s so much better.”
  • Cocktail bitters, especially Peychaud’s
  • Rose water. Orange water
  • Pandan (Pandanus amaryllifolius, which has a bit of the bready, scented rice aroma to it)
  • Douglas fir, spruce tips, salal, juniper or “the hot pine and vanilla scent of ponderosa”
  • Meadowsweet, saffron, chamomile, feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium)
  • Peach leaves, currant leaves, fig leaves
  • Dried and pulverised citrus peel
  • Mahleb, the ground seeds of a cherry (Prunus mahaleb), widely used in the Middle East
  • Tonka beans (Dipteryx odorata)

It is, as many people who contributed to the list commented, an astonishingly diverse list, not so much of vanilla substitutes (tonka probably comes closest, though it can be dangerous) but of the sorts of things that can be used to add subtle and intriguing flavours and aroma to luscious desserts.

I’ve transcribed part of the discussion here both to show how creative pastry chefs and others can be and also because I just don’t trust Instagram to keep it available forever.

There may be a glimmer of hope on the horizon for those who cannot stand the thought of being without vanilla. The latest market intelligence suggests that the crop is large, quality is high, and prices are heading down. Maybe. But that article also makes clear that there are so many factors at play in the vanilla value chain that anything could happen; to supply, to prices and to quality.

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