Category: pickling

Tart, sweet & spicy apple rings.

Canned spiced apple rings.

You’re seeing apples everywhere aren’t you? They’re crazy this time of year. And when you live in a state like New York that’s known for it’s apples, you really see ‘em everywhere. It’s almost as bad as pumpkin (which has already been popping up, too). And I’m sure you’re thinking, “I’M OVER IT.”

This recipe is a bit different than your average September apple-fare, however.

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Hashtag caraway pickles, hashtag end-of-season garden.

Caraway seed pickle recipe.

Summer might be over, but the weather begs to differ. My garden is in full swing- cucumbers and tomatoes all over the place, green beans like crazy, banana peppers quicker than I can keep up with. Literally I picked 4 of them on Sunday and three more today. But I know it’s nearing the end, so I’m trying to enjoy them. And if I can’t do that, then get them all preserved or used up as fast as I can.

I made this big ol’ jar of pickles specifically for my dad. Other than me, he’s the only big caraway seed fan in the family. Sad thing is, I don’t like pickles. So this is allllll him. It’s a really easy recipe that doesn’t require canning, so you can make it and toss it in the fridge to let it sit a few days. I just put it in a repurposed spaghetti sauce mason jar.

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Pickled green tomatoes, Italian style.

Italian style pickled green tomatoes.

The garden was crazy this year, thanks to our big ol’ raised garden bed. So when things started to get super cray cray, I decided that the best thing to do once I had a harvest of more than just two tomatoes at once, was make salsa & bruschetta.

But of course, sometimes you just see those green tomatoes hanging out there… and you wanna pluck ‘em off & use them, too. They’re so cute & small & round. And then there’s all that fresh basil & oregano that’s just waiting for you to keep picking it…

A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

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Retro-style Indian “lime pickles.”

Indian pickled limes.

Retro-style? Salad oil? Lime pickles? What the hell is this?” That’s probably what you’re thinking reading this recipe. And I don’t blame you, really. But you should get the backstory before you think I’m totally insane.

Because lime pickles are totally a thing, and this is indeed a vintage- or “retro”- recipe.

A few months ago on a really rainy, chilly, gross Friday night, Jay & I stopped in to one of my favorite thrift stores. There wasn’t much to get. I was a little disappointed. Until he found a stack of 1960’s/1970’s McCall’s magazine cookbook supplements! SCORE!

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Q & A time: why aren’t my pickles crisp? … and more!

Why aren't my pickles crisp? And other burning questions- answered!

You probably thought you were so smart. You looked everything up, or bought a book. You sterilized your jars, you made sure to boil your brine, and you washed all your produce thoroughly. You used your canning rack & processed them, and proudly went to open a jar a few months (or days) later and…

Limp pickles. Gross, limp, soft pickles.

I feel your pain, and I’m here to help.

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Ail je ne sais quoi; or “garlic I don’t know what.”

French pickled garlic with herbes de provence.

Garlic. The most potent flavor packed into the teeniest package nature could possibly create.

It’s amazing isn’t it? The things you can do with garlic. The possibilities are endless. Roast it, sauté it, bake it, slice it, crush it, mince it, puree it, whatever it. Clearly, the only thing I can’t do with garlic is write a decent blog post about it. No, really. I have no idea what to write about this. True story.

Usually I just blabber so much I have to stop myself before I write a novel, but for this post- nothin’. Its not that I have something against garlic- I don’t, I love garlic. But I just really have no idea what to say. So with that in mind… I’ll just make up a story. Pretend you’re at your summer house in Provence. Yeah, that Provence (in France). It’s a warm summer day & you’re hosting an outdoor dinner party this evening.

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Garden vegetable quick pickles.

Quick garden vegetable refrigerator pickles.

It’s nearing the end of a quiet, still, warm summer day. Its just about 5 p.m. The birds are still chirping, and it’s still light out, but the light is diffused; not so strong as it was just two or three hours ago. Everyone is just getting home from work or the beach, and kids are just pulling up on their bikes after a day out with friends.

And me? Well, I decide to make pickles.

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