Paul
Jo Jo Jo!
I know, I know,…Jesus!! It’s been a long time since I have blogged. But I can assure the blogosphere now that it is not personal. Stop the binary tears. I have nothing against the cyber world at this point. Really! It is simply that, as of late, I have been a cyber taker instead of cyber-giver, and happily so. My summer of fun and blogging has slowly and gratefully transitioned into a sleepy winter of internet movies and lounging around…..and well yes..eating too. In light of the holiday season though, I have decided that I could find it within myself to give back to the blogosphere with a little bit of how I’ve been eating.
This installment is really about how I WILL be eating. As you’ll see there is some curing time involved in this one. In this little post here, Joelle and I will be walking you through how to make a really simple version of sauerkraut and kimchi. Both of these traditional ethnic delights (German and Korean respectively) involve a lot of the same basic science and ingredients; cabbage and salt. While Kimchi can really be defined by any of a wide variety of Korean pickled vegetables, it is most commonly known in the US to be some variation of lacto-fermented cabbage and spices. Lacto-whaaa?? Yeah, Lacto-fermented. Lacto-fermentation is the process where lactic acid is produced from sugar. Cabbage’s sugars are naturally converted to lactic acid in an anaerobic environment because of the bacteria that lives on cabbage known as lactobacillus. Traditional kimchi and sauerkraut are not pasteurized (pasteurization kills all of the lactobacillus and other bacteria) and are generally stored for months on end without refrigeration. Cured sauerkraut is extremely high in Vitamin C and contains many probiotics proven to balance vaginal, gastrointestinal systems and fight some kinds of cancer. Beyond all that, it tastes awesome! So here goes it:
Cabbage, Napa, Daikon, Carrot, Ginger, Salt, Basil, Chilis, Salt
Step 1: Get all of your ingredients together. For Kimchi, I use Napa cabbage, carrots, basil, daikon radish, chili peppers and salt. Any good chilis will do, but I usually go for spicier ones. In this case we used Scotch Bonnet and Serrano peppers (usually a 7 out of 10 on the hot scale). I like to use Kosher salt as opposed to pickling salt because it is generally a more accurate product. The general ratio (which we’ll go in to more later) for salt to cabbage is approx. 3 Tbls salt for every 5 lbs cabbage.
Step 2: Wash your damn jars!
Step 3: Wash Your Veggies! 
Step 4: Chop em’ up fine! I usually cut the cabbage as thin as I can with a knife but a food processor can sometimes do a much better job at getting really thin uniform slices. As for the rest of the veggies in kimchi I like to have them in thin slices as well. They usually take a bit longer to break down than the cabbage so you don’t want them overly chunky. Thinner slices will allow the veggies to start to ferment as well as the cabbage.
Use a blunt wooden spoon for this bit. Nothing aluminum.
Step 5: Add all ingredients to a large bowl or pot and mash the shit out of it with a wooden spoon. Truthfully, I think it is easier to add your veggies in installments. Layer 1/3 of all ingredients in the pot and distribute salt evenly then mash. Repeat. You’ll know when you are done when the mashed mixture starts to produce quite a bit of brine; precisely enough to submerge the solids beneath it.
No double dipping!
Step 6: Taste For Saltiness. Using a clean spoon taste the brine mixture. It will be salty as hell but relatively palatable. If you can’t swallow it, frankly, you’re screwed; unless of course you’ve got some more cabbage on hand you can add. DON”T double dip your tasting spoon!! This is good practice anyhow but with laco-fermenting it is especially important to keep everything pretty sterile. The salt ratio is really a matter of opinion. Mashing the salt into the cabbage draws out the water and creates a natural brine teaming with bacteria. Use enough salt so that you have an adequate amount of brine to cover the cabbage.
Step 7: Jar it up! Two people are best for this part. You’ll want to really compress the mixture as you place it in the jars. Be cautious to not fill the jars too high. Leave about 1″ at the top of each jar. Without a small bit of room at the top, you’ll risk exploding the jars as they ferment; not good.
For the Kraut, simply repeat steps 1-7 with your kraut ingredients. There are some pretty specific traditional ingredients that include caraway seed and juniper berries. I typically stick to hearty green cabbage, but some prefer red cabbage for red kraut. Really, once you have the rules about fermentation down, the rest is your party. I like my kraut pretty simple. For this we just used cabbage, salt and caraway seed.
Let the Jars sit sealed tightly for 3-5 days in a pretty stable temperature environment. I find that after about 3 days they will produce enough carbon dioxide that the tops will leak a bit. Your kitchen (or wherever you store your jars) might adopt a slightly farty or digestive smell. Not to fear, this is normal. I usually open 1 jar on day 4 and then see how it is coming along. Once the jar opens the process is altered. I recommend refrigeration after opening. Lastly, Don’t just take my advice on this. Do some reading on your own and make sure you know what you are dealing with. While the steps are simple, there are always risks when dealing with living bacteria. If you have any reservations and/or feel that you might come after me with a lawsuit think again! Do your homework people and make Kimchi at your own risk!
Until then, Happy Eating, 
-Paul
Posted by P. David Stockhausen 
I am about to get hella-serious up on the blogosphere right about now! Yea that’s right I said “hella”! But I am asking you, dear reader, to forgive this small infelicity of California parlance and move your attention to the photo that lies above these feeble sentences and then get serious with me. Yes, my friends, it is a peach. When at its peak ripeness, a peach is a succulent, sloppy, suggestive, sweet, dazzling, spellbinding, enchanting and an unparalleled fruit; a fruit that has gripped my gastronomical sensibilities and rendered me its helpless slave since I moved to California 3 years ago. While I am a native Pennsylvanian (where Amish peach cultivation carries a weighty and reputable history), I dare admit that I had never really fallen in love with the furry jewels until recent history. It might be a waste of time and blog-space to make excuses for that, so I dare not. The important thing here is that I love the damn things. More importantly, I aim to eat one per day during the peak season and typically succeed. So I feel comfortable saying I know them well. I won’t however just eat any ol’ peach, mind you. I prefer the ones that are nearly moments from the inevitable compost bin; nearly dripping off of the pit. For the sake of the recipe I am about to show you however, I chose one that was a little on the firm side for me (though, the rule of thumb being that the pit almost always falls out effortlessly). And as you read along, you’ll see that this post is actually more about pork than it is about peaches and about a seasonal celebration more than anything else. But reader be learned, this was a meal inspired by peaches and…well salad….. what came about later is happenstance.
In September, my Mother paid me a visit on her way back from a once-in-a-lifetime adventure to Australia and New Zealand. Excited at the opportunity to spoil her rotten, I began planning a meal as we toured some of San Francisco’s best markets. Fortunately for me, she arrived at the best time for food in Northern California. In mid-September, Northern California’s wild fennel sways high in the breeze, root crops start to crowd local vegetable stands, and Gravenstein apples start to compete for first fiddle with the last of the season’s peaches. I wanted to create a dish that spoke to all of these praise-worthy events. What I came up with was a variation on a dish I have made a couple of times in the past: “Center Pork loin roast with fennel, apples, root vegetables in a citrus gravy. Served with an 
In my trusty old spice blender, I ground together whole fennel seed with salt and peppercorns to create the rub. I then crushed some garlic and mixed it with the rub and rubbed the loin roast (what pork chops are cut from). I massaged it deeply into the meat while my oven preheated. I then seared it in a pan with some rendered bacon fat to brown it on all sides before adding it to the roasting pan. Believe it or not, most pigs are bred to be leaner and leaner to meet consumer demands for leaner meat. So to compensate I used the bacon fat for some much needed grease support. 
While the pork did its thing, I started on carefully roasting the peaches. In about 1/2 tsp. of butter and 1/2 teaspoon of bacon fat I started cooking them in the cast-iron at a very low heat. Being careful to not handle them too much (as I wanted to retain their structure) I let them slowly brown until they were soft enough to stick a fork through but not fall apart.
For the salad, I made a dressing of local olive oil, sauterne, juice 1/2 of an orange, rice vinegar, Dijon, garlic and salt. I used it to dress the leaves and then added orange and lemon zest and black pepper and layered my delicious peaches atop the salad. Mom and friends feasted on an appetizer while I got things together.
Sadly, at this point my direction and attention shifted from documentarian to expediter as I plated and served the dishes to everyone. As we’d been, ourselves, basting in the mouth-watering odors of the roasting pork for too long, we could barely contain ourselves from diving in head first. It wasn’t until halfway or more through the meal when I realized I’d forgotten to document the finished product. So while this dish was (If I do say myself) artfully presented (with pork chop resting atop a pile of savory sweet vegetable love) I have but only this shameful picture of my half-eaten and fully dramatic production. Picture or no picture, the essence of my mission “spoil mama rotten” was accomplished, and how!
-Paul
Lets start with the cheese on this one. After working in a ‘Latin’ restaurant for a few years you come to learn a couple of things: authentic has varying definitions, and the Kitchen Staff always keeps the best stuff for themselves. Through learning these ubiquitous restaurant facts, I came to know Queso Fresco or “fresh cheese”. Many cultures worldwide have their own versions of the stuff which usually ranges in degrees of fat and salt content. The Greeks have Feta, the Italians make Mozzarella or Teleme, in India they have Paneer, and the Latins have Queso Blanco or 
For the beans, start by selecting one or two dried Arbol Chilies. Grind the chilies and add to a saucepan with diced onion, pepper, cumin seed, and oil and proceed to cook at a low temp until the onions are mushy (for this recipe I am using canned pinto beans. I would consider slight alterations to method were I starting with beans I had re-hydrated). This mixture is your ‘sofrito’. It is what will form the base or gravy for your beans.
Just before the fillets go into the oil, I quickly dredge them in wheat flour. While I place the fish in the preheated oil, I prepare the remaining ingredients. In this case I used avocado, tomato, green onion, and cilantro for my garnishes. 
Before your fish has been fried to golden perfection your beans should have been added to the sofrito and brought to a slightly spitty simmer. Leave the salting out of the equation until the very end. The salt will break down the beans and cause them to split. Add salt after you’ve turned off your fire and you are ready to serve them. Now it is construction time!
The following pictures should say more than I need to about the construction process. I feel sorry for you if you’ve never had a taco and need step by step instructions from here on out. But if this is the case for your sorry soul, I bear no judgement. Simply follow the pictures and try not to choke as you inhale your delicious creation. Consumición feliz!!
Like many people, I often find myself without the time or energy to food shop. Almost with bi-weekly precision, the rations of fresh ingredients and sundries begin to dry up in the house. Sometimes all you are left with are the basics; items by themselves which, upon first glance, appear to offer little in the way of a satisfying meal. This meal is a testament to the belief that you can almost always throw together something satisfying, if not amazing, with the basics. This of course all depends on what your ‘basics’ are.
On this very night I found myself without any “real” food in the house. As the hour hand spun towards ungodly times for dinner preparation and my stomach pangs grew audible I was forced to think fast. I rooted around to see what the cabinets and fridge had to offer. I first found a bag of arugula from one of the gardens I run that was not truly suitable for a salad. I had gleaned it from a bed of greens that was going to seed; in this bag of arugula were many flowering buds and woody stems. Still unsure of how it would fit into something I washed it anyway and continued my search.
In to the Cuisinart went the above ingredients with a couple healthy glugs of olive oil, a little grated parmeasan, pepper, and a little salt. I left that sucker run for a couple of minutes while I scoured the kithchen for what would go with it.
Savastio
P. David Stockhausen
