Crock Blocked

It's worth noting that if we never made mistakes, we'd never make anything. Bob Dylan sings: There's no success like failure...but then he negates it with: And failure's no success at all. So it still sucks.

In late August, I was so optimistic. I had purchased 3 bushels of pickles, and sourced an old-fashioned ceramic crock from a mennonite hardware store. I harvested grape leaves from Woodside. Purchased several heads of garlic and stalks of fresh dill from the local market, soil still clinging to the roots. Salt from the Himalayas. Yeah, I was pretty smug about the whole thing, and spared no expense. I had visions of friends and family clamoring for jars of my crunchy sour beauties, floating in wispy clouds of fermented perfection. I remember thinking: if all goes well, I should open a business. If-I-ferment-them-they-will-come kind of pipe dreams. Oh how wrong I was. That night, I layered and compacted my ingredients in the crock, dissolved the salt into water, and left the rest to time.







Three weeks went by, and every day I dutifully skimmed the scum from the top. The smell was putrid. I told myself this was a good sign. Like gorgonzola or blue cheese, I couldn't judge the complexities of taste by a bad smell. Turns out, sometimes you can.

Long story short, the pickles had completely mush-ified. With my touch, they imploded. And all I was left with was a house that smelled strongly of a dog vomiting a brick of cheese. The smell of total defeat.

But take heart, take heart. If at first you don't succeed, make SAUERKRAUT! I can't leave off on a sour note, pardon the pun. So here's my silver lining: my sauerkraut turned out awesome. Cabbage has never let me down. Here are the pictures of my beautiful beet-tinted kale and cabbage kraut. Next we will try the Korean variety, for some spicy times. Stay tuned for kimchi.




As for pickles...well, I recommend Bubby's. They're pretty darned tasty.