Me and the White Wolf crossing the Fremont Bridge to go to my writing studio.
For years, my late dog Rubin, a.k.a White Wolf, (a big fluffy Alaskan Malamute/German Shepherd), was terrified of stairs, bridges, and jumping on or off of just about anything elevated. I first found this out when he was just a few months old and we were on a road trip to Northern California.
At the base of some outdoor, pool-side motel stairs, Rubin started shaking and wouldn't budge. I scooped him up and carried him to the top. Again, no budging at the bottom of a different set of stairs later on the trip. I picked him up and carried him. Again, when I took him to the vet weeks later and he needed to hop up on the scale so they could weigh him.
The vet explained to me that day that since malamutes are an Arctic sled dog breed — working dogs built to traverse long, flat, snowy, icy expanses — heights, and sudden inclines, are often not only foreign to them, they can actually be quite threatening. I've been a full-time writer for years now, and much of that time I've had a writing studio in Northwest Portland, across the river from my home. It's a tiny windowed space (150 square feet) with zero distractions and I love it. I brought my dog Rubin here with me often when he was still alive.
For years, whenever we approached and then crossed the Fremont Bridge to get here, Rubin would cower in the back of my car and avert his gaze. He was so scared. Once we'd made it safely off the bridge and were blocks from my studio, he'd perk back up and stick his head out the window. Nightmare over. He loved everything else about Take Wolf to Work Day.
When Rubin was six or seven, we hopped in the car to drive to my writing studio late-morning on a sunny spring day. We were crossing the bridge to get here, windows and sunroof all open, when he suddenly walked up to the front seat armrest, put his front paws firmly on it, lifted his head and stuck it straight up and out of the sunroof. He stayed that way as I pet his big furry chest and steadied him for a few minutes, until we were off the bridge and turning toward my writing studio.
White Wolf stood up to his fear! He annihilated it. From that day on, Rubin LOVED crossing that bridge. Any bridge! And in any weather (we definitely got rained on
many times). For the rest of his life, sticking his head straight out of the sunroof while I drove us over bridges was one of his favorite things. Lucky for us, there are a lot of bridges in Portland.
White Wolf stood up to his fear! He annihilated it. From that day on, Rubin LOVED crossing that bridge. Any bridge!
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We Promise We Won't Kill You!
So, what, you must be asking does this have to do with books and Powell's? I'm almost there. Aaron Adams and I are co-authors of the new cookbook
Fermenter: DIY Fermentation for Vegan Fare, and if you don't already know, he's chef-owner of the
namesake Southeast Portland restaurant from which the book's delicious recipes derive.
It turns out that DIY fermentation is, in fact, super-duper scary to many people. Like puppy-Rubin-crossing-a-bridge scary. Did you know that you are way more likely to get sick from what's pumped out of our mass-production industrial food system (hello, mass recalls) than you are from DIY home fermented foods and drinks? Ferments actually add nutritive value. They're loaded with all sorts of good-for-you microorganisms, vitamins, and nutrients.
I'm here to tell you that if you want to overcome any sort of fear of fermentation, all you really have to do is stand up to it like Rubin did. You just have to try your hand at it.
Surge in DIY Fermentation
And so many folks did during the pandemic! During that peak-pandemic time, while we weren't able to gather in-person, there was a massive proliferation in virtual fermentation fests worldwide.
It was a rad way to connect with folks from all over, share kitchen time and space, and learn some new skills all while sheltering in place. For me, it was a big, life-affirming bright spot during a very hard to navigate time.
100% Plant-Based Ferments
Me, Sandor Katz. and Kevin Sampsell at Sandor’s 2021 virtual event for his latest book Sandor Katz’s Fermentation Journeys.
Me and Aaron at Fermenter with our blood, sweat and tears book recently after a lovely meal with two great gals. Photo by Carole Goeller.
Photo that I took of Aaron at his restaurant Workshop (next door to Fermenter) when we were in the thick of recipe testing (and in the thick of the pandemic) all of the book's Mold is Gold recipes — tempehs, miso, koji rice, koji beets, etc.
I've been lucky enough to be a part of the international fermentation community for years, since before I co-founded the annual
Portland Fermentation Festival with friends in 2009 (we're back at it this year after a three-year hiatus! Oct. 19 at Ecotrust!), and before I guest spoke at
Tokyo's in 201 and
2018. For me, the pursuit of food and drink fermentation has resulted in a lifetime of learning and kitchen creativity. as well as many beautiful friendships spanning the globe.
The first virtual fermentation fest I attended was the Florida Ferment Fest in early spring of 2020. I learned a lot of things at it including how to make Japanese yuzu kosho — a spicy citrusy condiment — with fest co-organizer and co-founder Jacki Vitale of
Otto's Bread Club. I'd never even heard of kosho until then.
As these virtual fermentation fests were connecting all sorts of folks in home kitchens around the world, and I think directly
as a result, there was a huge uptick in at-home fermenting — particularly sourdough bread, as we all know.
As for Powell's, during that time I was lucky enough to do a couple virtual Powell's events in-conversation with my fermentation hero, Sandor Ellix Katz, for his
Fermentation As Metaphor book in
fall 2020, and his
Sandor Katz's Fermentation Journeys in
winter 2021. Although those Powell's events weren't part of fermentation festivals per se, hundreds of folks attended from all around the world.
One of the best things to come from all of that peak-pandemic-time fermentation fervor? The world of highly specialized fermentation books has now finally fully opened up wide-ranging and diverse-in-scope cookbooks. Like
Fermenter! It's a beautiful thing. And it's one of those pandemic silver linings that we're a little sick of hearing about, but that are still very much shining bright.
Fermentation is now
way more inviting and accessible across the board and heaps less intimidating and scary. All of which was our intention with
Fermenter. Our 100% plant-based
Fermenter cookbook is quite the globetrotter in terms of the ferments we walk you through and their origins.
And our book is particularly geared toward the newbie fermenter. Maybe that's you? We're talking to home cooks who want to get a little more funky in their kitchens by partnering up with and collaborating with some of the countless wild microorganisms around us all the livelong day.
Part One of
Fermenter is all tasty ferments ranging from Sour Dills & Pickle Brine, Ruby Kraut, Spicy Giardiniera and Chickpea Miso, to Koji Rice, Shio Koji, Tempeh Bacon, Ginger Beer, and all sorts of fresh and aged plant-based cheeses. Most of the ferments in the book are fairly quick and easy to make, and all of them are super tasty.
Part Two is devoted to dishes that you whip up with those ferments — yummy things like a toasted summery BLET (Tempeh Bacon + Glazed Eggplant!), Koji Beet Reuben, the Almost Famous Fermenter Burger, a saucy-beans- and veggies-loaded Fermenter Bowl and then some.
When you take home food and drink fermentation into your own hands — and make fermented tasty treats like sour pickles, miso, kombucha, hot sauces, tempehs, and more — you sidestep a good deal of supply chains, and get to go way more, and sometimes even entirely, locavore. You really put that Y in DIY.
Food and drink fermentation gets you to make things with your hands and be proud about it. And while doing so, you learn about other cultures, support your overall mental and physical health, engage with history, potentially build community, etc. All of that results in at-home nutritious deliciousness for you and your loved ones. It's a win-win-win-win-win, and oh, let's-just-win-some-more situation.
So, I hope that my meandering post has inspired you in some way? I hope that you're now kicking any residual fear of fermentation out the door and itching to go party with some wild and funky microorganisms and get fermenting. If so, you can simply scroll down to our Spicy Giardiniera recipe below to start. Happy fermenting! Stay wild and stay free. Long live the White Wolf!
Photo that I took during recipe testing this Spicy Giardiniera in summer 2022. I've made it several times since and not for recipe testing — because I'm hooked! I always have to have it in the fridge now. So good.
Spicy Giardiniera
Makes 1 gallon
I really wanted a classic giardiniera for
Fermenter like you find on antipasti platters, but rather than pickling all the vegetables in vinegar, which is definitely the norm, I wanted to ferment ours and also make it fairly spicy. Pretty much all store-bought giardiniera is pickled with vinegar — bracingly salty and sour, with a hint of sweetness. Ours is all that, with some funk thrown in.
• 2 pounds (1 head) cauliflower, trimmed and cut into small florets
• 4 red fresh Fresno chili peppers, or 2 to 4 medium-size, medium-hot fresh chili peppers, stemmed and thinly sliced
• 1 red bell pepper, diced into roughly 1/4-inch pieces
• 3 to 4 medium carrots, peeled and sliced diagonally into roughly 1/8-inch-thick slices
• 5 to 6 celery stalks, sliced into roughly 1/4-inch-thick slices
• 5 to 6 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
• 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon yellow mustard seeds
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1 teaspoon fennel seeds
• 2.5 percent fine sea salt, or 5 scant to heaping tablespoons (see note)
• 21/2 quarts water
• 1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1. Put the cauliflower, Fresno peppers, bell pepper, carrots, celery, garlic, mustard seeds, oregano, fennel seeds, and salt in a 1-gallon Jar or crock. Add the water, leaving at least 2 inches of headspace, and stir to dissolve the salt.
NOTE: Either tare/weigh your ingredients as you add them to your jar or crock to determine the amount of salt to add (see Tare It Up!, page 7) or simply add 5 scant to heaping tablespoons to taste.
2. Top the giardiniera with your preferred follower and weights (see pages 26-27). You want it to bubble and off-gas as it ferments, but you don’t want any air in direct contact with it. Place the vessel in a bowl or deep dish in case it overflows at any point.
3. Ferment at room temperature (55 to 75 degrees F) and out of direct sunlight for 5 days and up to 2 weeks. The colder the temperature, the slower the giardiniera ferments. I usually like the flavor and crunch best in the above range because the longer the giardiniera ferments, the tarter, more pungent, and softer it gets. During the fermentation process, you can add more salt to taste — just sprinkle it directly into the vessel.
4. Check on it every day or so with clean or gloved hands. I recommend sampling the giardiniera each time you check on it. Always make sure the vegetables are submerged: if they aren’t, they might get moldy. If there’s any sort of buildup, wipe down the inside of the fermentation vessel with a clean towel. Clean and rebuild your plastic wrap follower, weight, and cloth cover.
5. Once the giardiniera is to your liking, add the olive oil (you may need to remove some brine to do so) and stir to combine. Store it in the refrigerator for up to 2 months. It keeps longer than that, but becomes less vibrant and yummy. Be sure to give everything a good stir whenever you serve it, in order to reincorporate the olive oil.
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Liz Crain is a longtime writer on Pacific Northwest food and drink. She is the author of
Dumplings = Love and coauthor of the cookbooks
Toro Bravo, and
Hello! My Name is Tasty, as well as 420-friendly Grow Your Own. She is also cofounder of the annual
Portland Fermentation Festival.
Fermenter is her newest cookbook, coauthored with Aaron Adams.