Fermenting in a world that prefers instant gratification
Can the process give us more than the product?
I come to you from the emerald green of North Carolina. Coming from the dry Mediterranean climate of SW Oregon, where last night over 2000 lightning strikes sparked at least 17 fires (some smoldering and small, some gaining momentum as I write) in the valley we live in, the lushness is positively divine. If I am being honest, my physical comfort finds the heat and humidity less enchanting. The rest of me appreciates that the humidity’s superpower is this flourishing, exuberant landscape. (And that includes the vines—kudzu, grape, English ivy, and possibly more) that in some places swallow trees, power poles, and buildings.)
The Klamath/Siskiyou Mountain region, from which I hail, and the Southern Appalachians have botanical diversity in common. I’ve read that these two regions are very similar in this regard, and both are among the most diverse in the US. I used to visit the Asheville area with some regularity when Mother Earth News Magazine had fairs, and I always felt at home in the geography of the Blue Ridge Mountains around Asheville. The narrow valleys and hollows, the ridges and peaks, all feel like the landscape shapes that I am accustomed to. It’s the flora and fauna that leave me somewhat disoriented. I do not know many of the trees by name. I can only guess at their habits and personalities, but it is fun to make new friends. I delighted in hearing the rising and falling trilling crescendos of cicadas, seeing cardinals, a black snake, a dinosaur-like snapping turtle, some painted turtles, and ✨FIREFLIES. Their twinkle lights in the woods were nothing short of magical in the dusky forest.
This is our first visit to our daughter, who attends school in North Carolina. It is a comfort see her in her current habitat. To have a visual image in my mind of her home, school, and surroundings when we talk or I think about her is a big deal for the way my brain works. I also felt a strong desire to connect her with those Blue Ridge Mountains because I knew my girl would find comfort in the geometry of those hills, and two of my favorite people on the planet live tucked under their blue mists. I wanted her to meet them so that she would have some teeny-tiny bit of extra motherlove close by should she ever need it. She likely won’t, but like seeing her place, it makes me feel better knowing there are people she could visit who would envelop her in their arms.
One of these strong ladies lives at 3900 feet with her husband, a hop and a skip from the escarpment that drops into South Carolina. Their home is a hand-hewn chestnut cabin in the forest that overlooks a shimmering pond dotted with lily pads and hosting a chorus of evening frog song. This dear friend, N, came into my life through fermentation. N is a fermentation evangelist, and besides family, might be my strongest supporter. As soon as we arrived, she was quoting stories from our Fermented Vegetables book and asking our daughter if she’d like to share her side of the story. Shortly thereafter, we were eating a delicious spread punctuated with many ferments and the most delicious, buttery pecans I have ever tasted.
We toured their garden, where I noticed vibrant plants with no hoses, no sprinklers, no water-it-or-it-will-die infrastructure, which is the only way my West Coast garden will make it through a few days, let alone a season. We were given free rein to glean as many sun-warmed ripe red and purple raspberries as we wanted. 😋 We ambled through a small bit of the surrounding forest. We talked about sassafras, mountain laurel, and hemlocks. The hemlocks looked happy and healthy because they have used the predator beetle, Sasajiscymnus tsugae, to successfully treat trees from the imported Hemlock Woolly Adelgid, which has caused widespread tree loss throughout much of their range in Eastern North America. If you are interested in treating your trees naturally and successfully, head here to read more. N’s partner has also been part of a group of folks working to contribute to the hemlock’s genetic diversity by finding and propagating genetic mutations, known as witch’s brooms. We eventually migrated to the porch, where we indulged in a long sit, watching the sun sink lower and the birds flit about, catching their dinner.
N told us about all the people she’s converted to lovers of fermented vegetables. Most recently, a myofascial therapist. N came with a fermentation starter kit—mise en place of cabbage, other grated vegetables—salt, bowl and jars. She likes to get people’s hands on the cabbage and demonstrate how quickly one can put a ferment together by just doing it. She wants people to experience the tactile connection of massaging salt into the cabbage and watch (and smell) the transformation that takes place while the jar sits on the counter. N finds her lessons come with mixed success. Most everyone loves the flavors, but she is continually surprised by how many people still choose to buy their ferments instead of making them.
Now, to be clear, she, nor I, think that is a bad thing to support local makers while consuming this good food, but she feels that people are missing out on the practice itself.
What does making your own jar of fermented vegetables have to offer?
Bear with me a moment while I start with the practical and tangible benefits. Let’s start with variety and customization. You have complete say in what you make and what ingredients you use to do so. In other words, you can make what you like. You add as little or as much of what you like to the mix. Chop it fine, chop it coarse, your ferment, your adventure. You can make combinations you may never find commercially. You can use ingredients that are less commonly used; a few examples can be found here.
Saving money. Fermenting is good for your budget in three noticeable ways. (Less obvious in the moment are the potential long-term health savings.) The first saving is that you are removing the cost of someone else making the product from the equation. When you ferment your own you can work with the seasons and the cost of vegetables. You can take advantage of produce sales, big garden, or local abundance by preserving when any given item is abundant and affordable. Finally, fermentation is a great way to utilize vegetables that are unintentionally aging in your fridge. Lettuce aside (though I have made a not-awful romaine kimchi), most of the produce that you bring home can be fermented when it is beginning to wilt or show signs of age. Fermentation will increase its shelf life, giving you more time to eat it instead of tossing it.
But what happens if we think of fermentation, like making and caring for a jar of fermenting vegetables, as a meditation or an act of connection?
Let’s start with control, because a few paragraphs ago, I essentially said that one reason to make these foods is to regain control over your food. And yes, we can control the ideas (flavors) and goals (preservation or live probiotic foods), as well as the ingredients, but actual control belongs to the microbes. We can set things up, we can understand their needs, but ultimately, they are alive, and with that comes the messy unpredictability we call life.
For some of us, control is an illusion that can cause despair or anxiety. I’d like to offer that jar of fermenting food gives us a chance to hand our idea of control off to the microbes. We can use ferments to practice letting go and trust.
We move through life in an unfixed world, we are part of nature and all its complexity and mystery, yet we tell ourselves a different story. In many aspects of our lives, we reduce our chances of wonder, connection, or fun by not trying something new, as we want to minimize the risk of failure. Fermentation can provide a small venue in which to explore life and examine the unseen workings of nature from the comfort of our own home. We can let go, let the power of transformation in, and open ourselves up for discovery.
Fermentation is also a way to safely delve into impermanence. We select our ingredients, we touch them as we prepare them—from rinsing to slicing and massaging, we think about what the microbes need and set them up in an environment in which they will (we hope) thrive in the present. As we do this, we are also, in a sense, capturing (or trapping) the past in the jar for use and nourishment in the future.
The reality is that sometimes we experience something profound when we see the bubbles begin to slowly populate a jar as the microbes wake up and multiply, and mostly, we do not. Especially when you have fermented a lot, and it becomes rote muscle memory. Yet, I have to say I do talk to my ferments sometimes, give them encouraging words, and praise their activity—it can remind me I am not alone in this world. The small ones are with us--always.
What have you learned from your ferments?
Back home
Well, I didn’t get my letter to you sent from NC. I am thinking of this as a P.S.
On the way home from the airport yesterday evening, we stopped at our local farmer’s market along the Applegate River. Live music and the slow, clear water were just what my nervous system needed to unwind. When I got home, I took a cup of tea to visit my garden, which, thanks to timers, sprinklers, and soaker hoses, did not dry out. Even better, the garden plants doubled in size (I was shocked), not from my watering efforts but lightning-charged rain. The power released by lightning breaks the nitrogen apart, allowing it to combine with oxygen and create water-soluble nitrates that plants can absorb. There is so much wonder to behold.
I will make kimchi today as I came home with amazing summer cabbage from the market. I hope you also some kimchi, or pickles, or (charred cabbage) sauerkraut this week and find a small delight in the process.
A few more links
Here is a sound recording/blog from one of the last Mother Earth News Fairs I went to where Meredith Leigh and I presented on The Magic of Koji, in Asheville.
When our ridges appear blue it is from wild fire smoke in the air as the plants burn, the Blue Ridge Mountains are blue because the plants breath.
Don’t forget all the recipes and posts are easier to find in this Fermenting Change Index post.
Get ready for the summer bounty. Learn how to ferment any vegetable with my Mastering Fermented Vegetables course.
I love this Kristen! Thanks for the work you do. I recently made a Kim-kraut and one jar is in the fridge. I’ll see if it’s still edible. I made it a bit too spicy!
I have a bowl of tiny San Marzano tomatoes. Can I ferment a few?
Thank you for a glimpse into a lovely part of the world. I also enjoyed the encouragement and inspiration to ferment… I’m headed out to the garden to pick a giant bunch of cilantro for a batch of Cilantro Coconut Sauce 💚