Fruit, Pork Products, preserving

Just peachy.

Now that we’ve comfortably settled into autumn, I can admit that I kind of hate summer. I don’t talk about this very much because people seem to consider it roughly equivalent to being a Communist or a baby-eater. Summer-dislike is a relatively new thing, just since I moved to the sweaty mid-Atlantic at the millenium. I grew up in Milwaukee, where, starting sometime late in spring every year, the local forecasts remind area residents that it’s “cooler by the lake,” and you can look forward to wearing shorts and drinking beer outside. In the Milwaukee of my childhood, and probably even today with climate change and all, you can count on daytime highs of 75 to maybe, maybe 85 degrees at the lakefront. You turn off the air conditioner and open the windows at night so you can hear the crickets. In Washington/Baltimore, you can count on stagnant 95 degree days like being smothered by sopping hot towels. Even at midnight, you can find yourself standing in the dark, soaked in sweat, mainlining Gatorade and begging for the sweet release of death.

Unlike the celebrated summer of the Great Lakes, the months between Memorial and Labor Day out east are good for two things only, which admittedly are pretty good. One is the beach, which is self-explanatory. The other is farm stands, with their array of limited-time-only goodies like sweet corn, tomatoes, melons, and stone fruit. Nothing against apples and oranges, of course, but they store so well that they’re available, and fine quality, all year. Try buying a decent peach in December, though. It doesn’t exist; the only available specimens were picked weeks earlier, rock-hard and barely golden, in another hemisphere, and soften into rosy-looking but cottony imitations of the real thing.

When peaches come into season, their partisans go crazy. In the classic Seinfeld episode “The Doodle,” Kramer extols the virtues of the Mackinaw peach, an elusive (and fictional) treat from Oregon available for only two weeks a year. “It’s like having a circus in your mouth!” Evidently, the Mackinaw peach has become a holy grail of peaches for many fruit enthusiasts; Google “mackinaw peach” for numerous accounts of disappointed peach fiends who go hunting only to be mocked and turned cruelly away. In too good to be true fashion, the Portland Food Group discussion about Mackinaw peaches devolved almost immediately into hostile foodie one-upmanship. If you thought PDX was all about laid back, flannel-wearing potheads, think again.

So don’t go looking for Mackinaw peaches, or annoy the PDX food community with well meaning questions about their seasonal treat. It doesn’t exist. And now that it’s a little late in the season, the remaining peaches in markets aren’t the juice gushers of mid-July and August. Don’t let them go to waste, though – pickle them. You won’t taste a more delicious combination than pickled peaches with any smoked meat. Brisket, pork shoulder, chicken, turkey, duck – all are vastly improved by the addition of the pickled peaches.

Pickle brine seems like a no-brainer to pour down the drain. Don’t do it! As is the case with boozy peaches, a lot of the peach flavor leaches out into the pickling liquid. Strain and keep it refrigerated for use in shrubs or cocktails like the Kentucky Pig & Peach. NB: the first dish I ever developed was an emulsion of dill pickle juice (Vlasic or Claussen) and butter. I was four years old. Pickle butter is the shit when you smear it on Triscuits.


Smoked pork belly, chicharrón, pickled peach
In this dish, a smoked cured belly – basically bacon – serves as the foil to the sweet-tart peaches. If you like some kind of starch with your meats, grits or creamed corn are the way to go.

This dish has multiple components, each requiring multiple steps. If you can’t deal with all of them, you can get the gist of the flavor combination by making the pickled peaches, and then preparing the pork through the poaching phase. Slice, brown the fat side, and serve with pickled peaches on the side.

Start the pork at least two days and up to a week before service. You’ll cure overnight, then smoke and poach the next day. If you have time, weight the belly for a great firm texture and even thickness.

For the pork:

1 lb belly, trimmed of skin (reserve skin for chicharrón, below)
2 tsp salt
2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp white pepper
peppercorns, thyme and bay

2 quarts chicken stock
1 inch chunk yellow rock sugar
6 sprigs thyme
2 bay leaves
1/4 c usukuchi soy
1 head garlic, sliced along equator

1/4 c white wine vinegar (same as used in the peach pickle)
2 shallots, minced
1 c dry, floral white wine
2 c smoked pork stock (from braise)
bay leaf
2 sprigs thyme
2″ section of licorice root
1 star anise
6 tbsp unsalted butter.

Combine the salt, sugar, and white pepper. Coat the belly evenly with the seasoning and place with peppercorns, thyme, and bay in a vessel just large enough to hold the belly. Cure under refrigeration, turning over after 12 hours. If you have extra time, cure up to 4 days and turn after each.

Rinse the cured belly and pat dry. Set up a smoking apparatus with charcoal and apple or hickory wood chunks (I use an offset smoker) and smoke the belly at 180F for 3 hours.

Combine the stock, sugar, thyme, soy, and the garlic. When it comes to a simmer, add the smoked belly. Simmer until just tender, about 2 hours. Remove the belly from the liquid; strain and set aside. If you have time, seal in a bag or wrap in clingfilm and chill down; then place in a small container, about the same size as the belly. Top with another container or cutting board and weight, refrigerated, at least four hours.



For the reduction:

Prepare the reduction. Bring the shallot and vinegar to a simmer in a saucepot over medium low heat. When the vinegar has reduced to au sec, add the wine and reduce again to au sec. Add the stock, herbs, and spices and reduce by about 2/3. Strain through a chinois and mount with cold butter.


To serve, cut the belly into 1×2″ rectangles. Score the fat on top and place, fat side down, in a hot pan over medium heat for 2 minutes. Transfer to a 250F oven for another 6 minutes. Serve the seared belly atop the reduction and the pickled peach purée, and serve with a chicharrón.



For the chicharrón:

skin from pork belly
grapeseed or rice bran oil

Scrape as much fat as possible from the underside of the skin. Divide into several strips about 1″ wide.


Place the skin in a sauce pot with water and bring to a boil. Boil for about an hour, until gelatinous and flexible. Add more water, if necessary, to keep the skins completely submerged during boiling.

Drain and, when cool, trim any remaining fat from the skins. Place on a silpat on a sheet pan and dry in a 160F convection oven for 2-4 hours (times will vary based on the thickness of the skin) until completely dry and glassy. Cool completely. Store in a tightly covered container – if you have a silica dehydrator pack, add it to the container. You can store these for a fairly long time, but with a silica pack, they may become too dry to puff well at some point, so try to use them within a month.


To cook, bring a pot of grapeseed or rice bran oil to 360F. Break the skins into chips about 3/4″ square and add not more than two at a time to the oil. Using a spider, keep turning the chips as they puff. Once they have completely puffed, remove and drain on paper towels; salt and serve immediately.





For the pickled peach:

2 lbs peaches, peeled, pitted, and sliced into 12-16 slices each (depending on size)
1 c white wine vinegar (champagne is best)
1 c filtered water
1/2 c + 1 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp kosher salt
4 star anise
about 2 dozen Pondicherry (true red) peppercorns [Note: this is not the same as pink peppercorn; substitute black if unavailable]
4-6 dried jasmine flowers (elderflower is great also)

Combine the vinegar, water, sugar, salt, spices, and flowers and bring just to a boil, ensuring the salt and sugar are dissolved.

Divide the peaches among mason jars and pour the pickling liquid evenly over them, distributing the spices and flowers. Chill down and store. The peaches will be mildly pickled after about 6 hours and are optimal at 2-7 days.


As depicted in the photo, the peaches and their pickling liquid have been blended to a sauce. Blend all the peaches (sans spices or flowers) with enough pickling liquid to achieve a medium-bodied purée.


Kentucky Pig & Peach

I developed this recipe to use up a bottle of bacon-flavored vodka a friend brought possibly as a hostess gift and possibly to razz me. That’s the “pig.” But during a recent visit to Kentucky’s MB Roland craft distillery, we picked up a bottle of Black Dog – basically white dog in which dark-fired (smoked) corn constitutes part of the mash. That kind of smoky white dog is even better in this drink, if you can get it.

Don’t use pickling brine from the first two days of pickling to make this drink; it won’t be peachy enough, and somewhat too sour. Whatever brine you don’t use to make this drink you can strain into a clean container and keep for months in your refrigerator.

Final note: as with most things, better ingredients = better cocktail. But it’s dumb to waste really top drawer booze on a mixed drink. Use something decent, like Maker’s Mark, but don’t use your single-barrel whiskies; save those for sipping.

For two cocktails:

1 1/2 oz vinegar from pickled peaches
2 oz bourbon
2 oz smoked white dog [MB Roland’s Black Dog] or bacon vodka
6 drops barrel-aged sorghum bitters
2 large ice cubes, plus extra

Stir all the ingredients besides the ice cubes. Place one large cube in each of two old-fashioned glasses. Strain the cocktail over ice and serve. A little sprig of mint would not be out of place.


East Asian, Random Thoughts, Vegetables


If you live in a cave, you haven’t heard that the Eastern Seaboard is being buried by an historic snowstorm right now. As of noon Saturday, we’ve received 25 inches (!) in Baltimore, and the snow continues to fall thick and fast.

I’m from the Midwest and know better than to go out in these conditions, especially because Marylanders don’t know how to drive in the snow. We have plenty of food at home, anyway. In times past, you had to plan for the winter – you couldn’t buy hydroponic tomatoes and arugula year-round, or find blueberries grown in Peru in December. You kept apples and potatoes and rutabagas in a root cellar, and, in the summer, you put up jars of fruit preserves and pickles to eat once the ground froze.

Without romanticizing that era – which sounds artisanal and quaint from a twenty-first century perspective mostly because we’ve forgotten the many hardships – I do appreciate a good pickle. These days, the only pickles available in most grocery stores are pickled cucumbers and peppers, even though the term “pickle” means any vegetables (or fruit) preserved in brine or vinegar. That’s a shame, because the world of pickles extends far beyond sweet cucumber slices, banana peppers, and zesty dills. In fact, if you travel the world, you’ll find that pickle and preserve appreciation continues unabated, even in these days of refrigeration and out-of-season produce.

Korea may be ground zero for vegetable preservation. The mainstays of Korean cuisine are rice and kimchi 김치, which includes brine-pickled cabbage, radish, and cucumber. Kimchi usually is fermented as well as pickled. In addition, Korean cuisine features numerous other types of pickles – some vinegar-based, others soy sauce-based.

Kimchi fermentation is the same type of lactic acid fermentation that occurs in yoghurt, which makes kimchi pungent and tart as well as salty. The most common types are baechu 배추, or napa cabbage, kimchi and kkakdugi 깍두기, or mu radish 무, kimchi; oi오이, or cucumber, kimchi also is popular in the summer. Although kimchi owes its pungent tang to the fermentation process – often helped along by saeujeot 새우젓 (salted shrimp), briny fish, or oysters – most varieties also are spicy due to the use of kochukaru (Korean red chile powder) or gochujang 고추장 (red chile paste). Fall and winter kimchi preserve baechu or napa cabbage for the cold months; as it is high in vitamin C and fiber, it provides an excellent source of nourishment.

Refrigerator garlic dill pickles

I confess that this cucumber pickling is all happening out of season. I came upon a huge display of Kirby cucumbers at the H Mart before the storm. My husband has a colleague whose sister makes amazing garlic dills down in Texas, hands them out as holiday gifts, and refuses to share the recipe. Leaving aside my feelings about people who don’t share (what, is she planning to become the next Vlasic? I’m not going to steal her freaking recipe and open a pickle factory), dill pickles are my favorite, they’re easy, and there’s no reason not to do this at home.

I have given two options – the first is for refrigerator pickles, not canning pickles, which must be stored in the refrigerator and eaten relatively soon – within a month. The second method is for canning pickles, which may be processed and stored on the shelf.

2 lbs Kirby cucumbers, sliced vertically into spears
2/3 c distilled white vinegar
3 c filtered water
1 tsp sugar
1/2 c kosher salt or pickling salt (do not substitute table salt)
8 cloves garlic, halved
1 tsp crushed red chiles
2 tsp dill seed
2 tbsp pickling spice

Combine liquids, sugar, and salt, and heat to boiling.

If using the refrigerator method, place the cucumbers, garlic, and spices into a container with a lid and pour the hot liquid over the ingredients. Allow to cool at room temperature, seal, and store in the refrigerator.

For the canning method, tightly pack cucumbers into hot, clean quart jars. Add to each jar equal quantities of garlic and spices. Fill the jars with the hot liquid up to about 1/2″ from the top of the jar. Screw the lids onto the jars. Process in a boiling water bath for 20 minutes, making sure the water in the bath covers the tops of the jars. When the jars cool, check the seals. The pickles should age for at least a month before eating but will keep much longer.

Oi kimchi 오이 김치(fermented cucumber pickle)

This pickle, based on David Chang’s technique in Momofuku , doesn’t keep as long as the other kinds of kimchi as it uses somewhat less salt. You can enjoy it for up to about two weeks, at which time it will become too pungent to eat. Again, I’m making this out of season – it’s really a summer pickle, to be enjoyed shortly after preparation, rather than a preservation method to store cabbage for the winter.

Galbi (marinated grilled short rib) with oi kimchi and vinegar pickled mu radish

1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
1 lb Kirby cucumbers, cut into 6 spears each
1 tbsp soy sauce (preferably white soy, usukuchi)
2 tsp fish sauce (preferably Korean, but any fish sauce will do)
1 tbsp kochukaru (Korean red chile powder) or 2 tsp gochujang (red chile paste)
scant 1 tsp saeujeot (salted shrimp), optional
6 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 carrot, julienne
1 scallion, julienne
1/2 onion, sliced thinly pole to pole

Salt the cucumbers in a colander. Allow to drain for about fifteen minutes.

Meanwhile, combine all the other ingredients. Once the cucumbers have drained, add them to the mixture. Toss well and allow to combine for at least an hour. This kimchi is best within the first couple of days; it becomes increasingly pungent, which is not such a problem, but the cucumbers become soggy after a few days.

Vinegar pickled mu radish

I have no idea what this is called, but on a number of occasions, I’ve encountered this pickle at Korean barbecue joints, sliced thinly and served apparently as a wrapper for a type of ssam 쌈, wrapped foods. I can’t be sure this is how it’s made, but it tastes exactly like the radish pickle I’ve eaten. It is absolutely delicious with barbecued short rib, ssamjang 쌈장, and scallions.

Mu radishes

If you can’t find mu radish (and you probably won’t unless you live in an area with a Korean market), daikon will work just fine, as will any other large, solid radish. In the summer, if you grow watermelon radish, you can enjoy a spectacular version of this pickle, which is ready to eat within an hour.

1 pound mu radish, peeled and sliced thinly (less than 1/16″) on a mandoline. The slices should be thin enough to be totally flexible
1 c hot water (about 150F)
1/2 c rice wine vinegar
1/4 c sugar
1 tbsp kosher salt

Place the radish slices in a container with a lid. Combine the water, vinegar, sugar, and salt, ensuring that the sugar and salt have dissolved completely. Pour the liquid over the radish slices and seal the lid. Allow to stand for at least an hour before eating. The radish pickle will be ready to eat after an hour; try to eat it all within a few days for optimum flavor.

Kimchi bokumbap 김치 볶음밥

Who doesn’t like egg-topped dishes? And who doesn’t like fried rice? This dish, which translates literally as “kimchi mixed rice,” combines the two – a spicy fried rice that uses up bits of kimchi before they become too pungent to eat, leftover rice, and the runny yolk of a fried egg. Or a poached egg, which I prefer.

2 c cooked short-grain rice
1/2 onion, diced 1/4″
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 scallions, minced
1/2 c (or so) baechu kimchi, diced, with any liquid
1 1/2 tsp soy sauce (preferably usukuchi, white soy)
vegetable oil
4 eggs

Place a large skillet over medium high heat and, when hot, add about 1 tbsp oil. Add the onion, garlic, and scallions, and sauté until tender and barely golden. Add the kimchi and saute a minute more.

Add the rice and sauté, breaking up the rice, adding any remaining kimchi liquid and the soy sauce.

Poach the eggs or pan-fry them, sunny-side up. Serve the rice in individual serving bowls, each with an egg, with a generous quantity of gochujang mixed in.

Kimchi bokumbap