My favourite honey ferment started as an attempt at making fennel candy. Simple: chop fennel into sticks and submerge in honey. Simple, but expensive unless you have much honey lying about or have generous beekeeper friends; or, like my dad, if you find buckets of honey by the side of the road and the owner says take them, they were for bees that have passed on.
I have been reading A Sting in the Tale, written by Dave Goulson, a professor of biology at the University of Sussex. The book includes many anecdotes of Goulson’s studies of moths, bees, and other small creatures, since about the age of seven. A memorable anecdote is the horrifying idea of attempting to dry a soggy bee on a hot plate and the increasingly predictable outcome of sizzling it to death. Through Goulson’s tales of studying bees, both in and out of university labs, I am learning more about bees, a “subject” of a lawsuit for which I have been helping research.
The basis of the suit is that there are many corporate entities conspiring to flood the U.S. market with adulterated honey (e.g., honey with added syrups, like corn). The lower price of the adulterated honey undercuts U.S. beekeepers, the plaintiffs. And, in my view, such honey adulteration undercuts the work of the bees and viability of growing food, as more than a third of our food relies on bee pollination. In short, to care about humans must require a caring for the bees.
My cupboards are filling with honey. Often I buy from farmers at markets, so it is less likely that my honey is adulterated. But I’ve started collecting jars with contents more likely adulterated. My local JONS grocery around the corner sells “honey” for $1.99 with the claim “no high fructose GMO syrup”. Right. The website on the jar brings me to an corporate importer website without any indication of the honey’s origin. It smells like molasses, and not honey-that-smells-like-molasses … but then, I am primed to be suspicious.
My favourite honey right now is from a little cooperative beekeeping community up the coast—Marshall’s Farm. It smells a little like cinnamon filtered through flower petals. Amusingly, UC Davis made a honey tasting wheel, which is great fun in mental exercises of sussing out whether a honey is akin to sweaty locker, but it’s easier to me to pick my own adjectives than to try to fit my experience into a wheel.
Ferments that go well with this fermented sap? Indeed … my favourite ferment right now is fermented or pickled meyer lemons. A bay leaf in with the lemons and salt, or maybe star anise, and a few months later the lemons have become a wonderfully sour addition to sweet or savoury dishes. Peel, pith, and juices.
I have mourned over a few small honeybees on the roof of my building, dying because they are too far from a flower—a bee with a stomach full of honey is always about 45 minutes from starvation. But I have also found places in Los Angeles where there are still so many bees pollinating flowers that I can meditate on the beautiful noise that so many bees, flapping their wings more than 200 times per second, make together.
When we treat fish as food and merely a
commodity for humans to set quotas on and distribute within a rights based
distributive model, food sovereignty for many communities is limited; this is
largely the story of salmon fishing in the Canadian food system. While many
Indigenous communities have traditionally been intimately tied to salmon, these
relationships have been increasingly limited because of the exploitative nature
of commercial fishing and exploitative farming methods.
Discourse that first began to attempt to
limit Indigenous food sovereignty and relationships with salmon focused on
“conservation”, which has been used by courts to justify limiting First
Nations’ hunting of salmon.
There was some success to expand notions of sovereignties through institutional
change in marine governance by altering governance trajectories and fostering
trust between organizations and individual communities. In British Columbia,
“conservation-based” fisheries had some success because of partnerships between
levels of the Canadian government and First Nations, commissions run by First
Nations, and individual First Nations. Commercial fishing of salmon
that resulted in catch limits attempts to limit Indigenous fishing
relationships through this “conservation” rationale.
One case that exemplifies the exploitative
development model of approaching fisheries reached the Federal Court of Appeal
in 2015: Ecology Action Centre v Canada
(Minister of Environment). In
that case, Ecology Action Centre questioned the Minister of Environment’s
(“Minister”) approval of salmon eggs to be genetically modified in Prince
Edward Island, sent to the Panama for commercial grow out, and then back to
North America for consumption. The case was an appeal (inter alia) of whether the Minister’s environmental assessment was
adequate and a breach of procedural fairness for lack of posted notice. In a
short 14 paragraph decision dismissing the appeal, the Court held that the
Minister’s actions were reasonable, as potential toxicity could be avoided.
The Court affirmed the court of first
instance’s decision that an investigation around potential toxicity and escape
in the considered location (the Panama) was discharged. Nowhere was there
mention of Indigenous peoples or Panamanian interests, both of which would have
been affected. Instead, the narrative was within a rights based sovereignty
framework that limited the interests of those affected by approval of the grow
out. That the exploitative and rights based frameworks of salmon fishing caused
need for alternative grow outs is an example of attempting to fix problems
caused by a development framework—rooted in capitalism and colonialism—with
Food sovereignty does not fit within a
framework of development—“that ‘growth or progress should be able to continue
indefinitely … is an idea that radically distinguishes Western culture from all
A different trajectory requires movement beyond the idea that the human right
to development continues as priority, which necessitates disruption: “[t]o the
extent that … law continues to promote a state-based model of development, …
the empowerment of historically marginalized communities may not be forcefully
Nathan Bellinger and Michael Fakhri suggest
that law is important if the food sovereignty movement is to achieve its
Maintaining a broad definition of food sovereignty can nurture “many different
groups to participate”—this prevents one group defining food sovereignty for
all, and “who gets to define food
sovereignty becomes an important part of how food sovereignty is implemented.”
Food sovereignty in relation to salmon that
does not extend beyond states based and rights based approaches within the
legal and regulatory Canadian frameworks will continue the pattern of
exploitation. Global North notions of state based domination and sovereignty as
rights oriented and distributive further promote commercialization and
exploitation of salmon. Fakhri questions: “if [trade] helps you, how are you
going to think about those that are harmed by you benefitting?”
And “[w]hich rules and institutions enable the current uneven patterns of
This questioning is a relational inquiry that extends into the broader realm of
relationality between people, nations, and land.
 See e.g. Douglas C Harris, Fish,
Law, and Colonialism (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001); Kerri
Garner & Ben Parfitt, “First Nations, Salmon Fisheries and the Rising
Importance of Conservation” (April 2006), Report to the Pacific Fisheries
Resource Conservation Council”, online:
 Usha Natarajan
& Kishan Khody, “Locating Nature: Making and Unmaking International Law”
(2014) 27:3 Leidon J Intl L 573 at
588 [footnotes omitted]. See also Peter Rosset, “Food Sovereignty and
Alternative Paradigms to Confront Land Grabbing and the Food and the Food and
Climate Crisis” (2011) 54:1 Society Intl Development 21 (who focusses on
shifts in Canada have transferred more power to local governments regarding
food policy, and
amendments to the Municipal Act
enacted on November 16, 2016 give municipalities the ability to pass bylaws regarding
climate change. The 2014 Ontario Provincial Planning Policy also directs that
municipalities make planning decisions that reduce climate change impact and
increase access to local and sustainable food. To date, most municipalities
have done little to engage those powers.
frameworks can disrupt the common impasse of policy becoming ineffective at
local levels. I view municipal law as uniquely situated as interconnected with
local food systems, creating possibility for meaningful transformation.
often initiatives are top down and reproduce the “same systems of
maldistribution that organizations are purportedly targeting. Inside those organizations,
white elites determine the fates of the vulnerable and get paid to make
decisions about their lives while people directly impacted are kept out of
policy provides opportunities to disrupt the injustice of unequal access to
space for growing and eating food, as municipalities are situated such that
they can focus on local needs and
ways of knowing. In the words of Professor Maxine Burkett, municipalities have
a duty or obligation to “create or empower institutions” to meet those
this post I use Windsor, Ontario, as an example of food governance following
the trajectory of increasing agriculture and development without focussing on
local food systems. I
critique municipal planning practices and discuss potential spaces—in this
post, community gardens—where community can inform municipal approaches to food
policy to increase sustainability of a
municipality’s local food system.
discussing municipalities as uniquely placed in relation to planning decisions,
[M]unicipalities … “represent the common good.” They are
responsible for everything from land-use planning and development to
infrastructure management to public health and emergency planning.
Climate-induced weather extremes compromise each of those core responsibilities
… Despite access to better information and knowledge of the diverse costs of
failing to adapt to climate change … local governments fail to represent the
common good by failing to plan appropriately or by dissenting from key
argues that municipalities have largely shirked their duties of vigilance by
ignoring these realities. However, many local food initiatives develop from
grassroots organizations largely outside of government or corporate structures. If
municipalities are to represent the “common good”, consultation and local law
and policy need to evolve from planning decisions made by those communities instead of for
them. Below, using the above critiques of Professors Burkett and Dean Spade,
I consider how changing where and how planning decisions are made can create
institutions that disrupt the systems of maldistribution.
thinking about how to link municipalities and community, I engaged information
municipalities have, such as the mapping of the city, to envision a shift in
how local food law and policy can be generated locally. Interactive food
mapping is a tool increasingly being used by municipal governments and
food activists, including for urban foraging and food saving. The
map for this blog post was generated using GIS software.
my work with Windsor community gardens, I came to recognize their
benefits as shared living spaces. I met refugees who shared their bean harvest and
bean knowledge with other gardeners; retirees who grew zucchinis to donate to
the local women’s shelter; and people escaping abusive home situations by
spending time in their garden plots that were towering with tomato plants.
also saw the importance of community gardens at a mental health support clinic
in London where people shared stories of being ostracized from the
community—both in terms of social reactions to their different expressions and
the very apparent isolation of the clinic, which was located in a semi
industrialized area of London inaccessible to many. Individuals expressed their
experiences of being further ostracized through charitable food services—being
given endless supplies of dried pasta is not likely to make one feel nourished.
This food bank practice is part of “celebrat[ing] disingenuous attempts at
inclusion while refusing to expand the notion of appropriate support and
healing [especially] for non-white people.”
where community gatherings occur indicate how certain knowledge is valued, how
community knowledge is generated and shared, and local law and policy should develop
from that gathering. Instead of municipalities holding “consultation” in
government owned institutions, local law and policy conversations should be in
community spaces physically more integral to the issues those gatherings are
about, and those spaces might generate a more transformative way of envisioning
law and policy. Some of those spaces for food law and policy could be community
gardens. Community gardening is also frequently cited as a way of addressing so
called food deserts, which continue to be a problem in Sandwich Town and Ford
City in Windsor, despite city mapping in 2014 that highlighted these issues.
gardens can be spaces that recognize experiences of marginalized people, and
they can be institutions that survive political turnover or change. I think
those spaces should be the spaces where we think about what it means to grow,
process, and share local food instead of top down spaces where not all
communities are represented.
“shared social connections” are crucial to the viability of scaling up food
projects that aim to maintain ties to local food systems. These interactions create
lasting relationships that can define local food policy. It seems more
appropriate for those conversations to be in spaces communities use for local
food growing and sharing, instead of government institutions that are
inaccessible to many communities.
local governments “govern persons—individuals and groups—directly, … more often
than not persons are governed indirectly through rules about physical form,
about buildings, property, activities, temporality, and uses.” Who
are the people? Where do they use city space, and how do they use it? Continual
questioning should guide the planning process.
This post was intended to present a simple idea—that for planning practices regarding food law and policy to be meaningful to the communities that they purport to relate with, the planning might be better engaged in food spaces used by those communities.
 Ann Hui, “Federal Budget 2019: Details Released on
Long-Awaited National Food Policy”, Globe
and Mail (20 March 2019), online:
Globe and Mail
Government of Canada, “What We Heard: Consultations on a Food Policy for
Canada” (2018), online (pdf):
<www.canada.ca/content/dam/aafc-aac/documents/20181025-en.pdf>; House of
Commons, “A Food Policy for Canada: Report of the Standing Committee on Agriculture
and Agri-Food”, 42nd Parl 1st Sess (Ottawa: Government of Canada, December
2017) (Pat Finnegan), online (pdf):
 SO 2001, c 25. See also City
of Toronto Act, SO 2006, c 11, Sched A; Ontario Municipal Knowledge
Network, “Best Practices in Local Food: A Guide for Municipalities” (2014),
Natural Resources Canada, “Chapter 2: Climate Change Adaptation And Municipal
Decision Making”, online: Government of
 “2014 Provincial Policy Statement: Under the Planning Act” (Toronto: Ministry of Municipal Affairs and Housing, 2014), online (pdf): <www.mah.gov.on.ca/AssetFactory.aspx?did=10463> at 4, 7, 15, 20, 30.
 I have noted up the relevant sections as well as searching
online for discussion of those relevant sections; those searches have returned
no promising results that suggest municipalities are using their powers to
create bylaws that target issues of climate change or food policy.
 Dean Spade, Normal
Life: Administrative Violence, Critical Trans Politics, and the Limits of Law (Durham:
Duke University Press, 2015) at 99.
 I chose Windsor because it is where I was residing when I
wrote the paper; it is an interesting municipality to consider in this context
because it is a border city and is also surrounded by much agricultural land.
 I consider the notion of “sustainability” to indicate a
broader conception of a community’s right to define its food systems, which is
part of food sovereignty. There are interconnections between the definitions
that signify ties to land and responsibility toward others and the land. See
e.g. Amanda Cobb, “Understanding Tribal Sovereignty: Definitions, Conceptualizations,
and Interpretations” (2005) 46:3 American Studies 115; La Via Campesina, “Food
Sovereignty” (15 January 2003), online:
<viacampesina.org/en/food-sovereignty/> (La Via Campesina shaped the idea
of food sovereignty to advance the voices and rights of peasant workers,
defining it as a community right to define its own diet and therefore shape the
food system); Heidi Kiiwatinepinesiik Stark, “Nenabozho’s Smart Berries:
Thinking Tribal Sovereignty and Accountability” :2 Michigan State L Rev 339
(Stark questions the term’s usefulness and reflects on shifting away from
societies that are rights based toward responsibility societies). If policy is
to be conceived through more local definitions of sovereignty, there might be
greater potential to reclaim food sovereignty rights in more localized areas.
 Maxine Burkett, “Duty and Breach in an Era of Uncertainty:
Local Government Liability for Failure to Adapt to Climate Change” (2013) 20:3
Geo Mason L Rev 775 at 783 [footnotes omitted].
 Robert Buchan,
Denise S Cloutierb & Avi Friedman, “Transformative Incrementalism: Planning
for Transformative Change in Local Food Systems” (2018) Progress in Planning
 Thank you to Rebecca Shearon for the generous and
insightful help in mapping the food initiatives in Windsor. See e.g. Glennon
Sweeney et al, “The State of Food Mapping: Academic Literature Since 2008 and
Review of Online GIS-based Food Mapping Resources” (2015) 31:2 J Planning
 See e.g. “Mundraub Map”, online: <mundraub.org/map>;
Lauren O’Neil, “Interactive Fruit Tree Map Highlights Free Food in Toronto”, BlogTO (August 2018), online: BlogTO
Laura Siciliano-Rosen, “Infographic: Regional Food Maps of Europe”, Eat Your World (14 September 2017),
online: Eat Your World
 Some of the data was already existing and others I
 For the City’s initiative regarding community gardens, see
“Community Gardens on Municipal Property”, City of Windsor, online (pdf):
 Sonia Meerai, Idil Abdillahi & Jennifer Poole, “An Introduction to Anti-Black Sanism” (2016) 5:3 Intersectionalities 18 at 24.
 See e.g. Jay D Gatrell, Neil Reid & Paula Ross, “Local
Food Systems, Deserts, and Maps: The spatial Dynamics and Policy Implications
of Food Geography” (2011) 31:4 Applied Geography 1195.
 Jenifer Buckley et al, “Social Relationships and
Farm-to-Institution Initiatives: Complexity and Scale in Local Food Systems”
(2013) 8:4 J Hunger & Environmental Nutrition 837 at 399.
 Mariana Valverde, “The Ethic of Diversity: Local Law and the Negotiation of Urban Norms” (2008) 33:4 L & Social Inquiry 895 at 898.
I’m writing from a bus. I love the feeling of moving forward, always have. Just the feeling of going somewhere, of at least a little bit of unknown at the next part of the journey. The feeling also brings back other bus trips; Peru, squashed in between two people in the front of a tiny bus, watching the sparse landscape pass by in the evening glow; leaving Dresden, heart pounding having just managed to get to the OTHER bus depot across town after realizing, almost too late, that I was at the wrong one (so much for booking the station that was closer to my couchsurf…..).
But even now, travelling between two small Ontario cities, it just feels good to be moving. And reading my old blog posts. Let me tell you, it’s an odd experience, as it was certainly me writing, but sometimes I don’t recognize myself. I still love fermenting things, but I don’t have the same fervour for massaging salt into cabbage that I seemed to have before. Which has me thinking—how do we know the difference between growing away from something and when we have fallen out of step with things we enjoy?
I am often caught up in thoughts about how we cling to our beliefs about food and are resistant to change. My undergraduate thesis focussed on food and our motivation to change our eating habits; and since then, I have been fascinated by our attachment to beliefs about consumption and what people think we “should” be eating and drinking. As I write I am listening to q, and one of the guests has just shared that he is on a “cleanse.” The idea that certain foods are deemed “dirty” and others “clean” largely goes against the notion of a balanced, grounded, and even feasible, approach to eating and enjoying food. People are so divided over what we should be eating and drinking – for health, the environment – but I think it is crucial that no matter what standpoint we come from, we care about food, have conversations, and attempt to keep ourselves open so that we do not become too rigid in our beliefs and habits.
Despite being keenly interested in eating local when possible and paying attention to how my food is grown and gets to me, I was, and remain, very much in love with wines from all around the globe. I’ve not been impressed by our Ontario wines, and have come around to the idea that this might have to do more with me dogmatically sticking to my belief that we don’t create the most fantastic wines rather than any real understanding of Ontario viticulture. And so I’ve happily set off to change my mind about Ontario wines.
I won’t cease to enjoy imported wines, as I have too much fun exploring different wine growing regions and grapes, but at least I can say that I have a new found interest in local wine. And as I should! The idea of “house wine” has become somewhat muddled, but I like the traditional view that the house wine is representative of a local terroir and vintages that thrived, hence the lower price. House wines have, unfortunately, become seemingly synonymous with terrible wine that the restaurant wants to move. In the same spirit of bringing back ‘real’ house wines, I think I should do a little more exploration of our local fermented grapes.
Maybe in the future I’ll get into a bit of tipsy talk, but there are some knowledgeable wine writers out there, so with that I’ll leave you with a cheers to the latest Pearl Morissette Ontario riesling.
This is the time of year that can start to feel a little bit tedious if you’re not an avid winter lover…well, or even if you are. I appreciate the winter, and can certainly see the beauty in the snowy landscapes and cozy indoors. After living in Dublin for a while, I can say that I developed a warm glowing memory of well-insulated and cozy Canadian homes. But that’s the picturesque idea of winter we develop when we spend some time away. Though I admired the icy countryside this week on my way to work, I can relate to others who start to feel ready for spring when this time of year feels as though it’s maybe dragging on a bit.
So I had a little sojourn to Chicago to visit a friend, and this proved a much-needed diversion from my life here in Ontario. Many Chicagoans remarked on the less than ideal time of year that I’d chosen to travel. And although I could imagine the energy of the city during warmer months, I also liked exploring Chicago in the off-season. Late night jazz bars and fantastic wine and conversation during happy hour made the chilly evenings memorable and heady; while frozen toes waiting in line for zip-lining in Millenium Park, spending hours at the Art Institute, record hunting, and spending a day at the University of Chicago for a law conference made my days interesting and engaging.
There are places I’ve visited where I’ve felt that I was heading home in one sense or another. I experienced that when travelling to Germany, and even more so on later trips once I’d developed friendships. But I think there are places in the world that speak more to each of us in different ways and for different reasons. We could discuss those reasons. I have some ideas. But I’ll try to stay on track here…. so though I felt largely at home when I was in Germany, there was something that struck me even more strongly when I was in Chicago that I was home, where I was supposed to be.
No, the above photos are not where I imagine myself, but I did fall for the architecture, especially the lovely little turret-type rooms on the edges of buildings. There are a lot of beautiful and simple appealing brick buildings in Chicago. I took few pictures, but spent a good deal of time at a local coffee shop writing and thinking -what better way to spend a day? What better way to spend time?
It seems to me that a natural extension of my interest in fermenting would extend to sourdough and bread-making. My dad likes to remind me that I wasn’t always as health-food conscious as I am now; at potlucks as a kid I would pile my plate high with fresh Portuguese buns and ciabatta, and a bit of the other foods, but just to flavour the buns. And my interest in bread has not waned, though I appreciate a ‘heartier’ loaf these days over the ones I would have coveted when I was younger. As I have travelled I have had the great pleasure of coming across a handful of memorable breads; there was the freshly baked croissants and morning breads in a small village in France; the bread a grandmotherly Italian woman prepared at a bed and breakfast in Bruges; the long-fermented rye from a bakery in Dublin; the Slow Food-famed bread for which I trekked across Berlin; the old-fashioned dense pumpernickel from Ottawa; and then most recently the natural fermentation-leavened loaves from the CSA here in London, whose knowledgeable baker graciously allowed me to witness his process for a day.
Yet despite my keen interest in tasting the bread, I always felt intimidated by the seemingly magical process that I knew looked so simple but involved much finesse. And this intimidation was not squelched when I witnessed the wood-fire baking process, though my interest in trying to bake my own loaf was certainly piqued. So I began to read and read and read, but could never quite work up the courage to begin my own bread-making. However, over the holidays when my family came to visit, we did a few Ethiopian meals that were based around fermented flatbread, injera. My aunt and uncle came bearing their spice blend berbere that seasoned most of the dishes that were piled on the injera. Despite the wonderful toppings that were coming together we had neglected to start the fermentation of the flatbread, a lengthy and crucial aspect of making traditional injera. As a family we decided to experiment, as we do, and tossed some old kefir whey into the batter to speed things along. And later, after shaking the batter on the pan, waiting for the edges to curl, then steaming the top by putting a lid on, we somehow ended up with flatbread resembling the taste, texture, and look of injera, even if we still had a ways to go. Subsequent attempts were not quite as successful, but no less experimental, as cousins joined with other dietary requirements, prompting me to do a mix of teff and buckwheat instead of teff and red fife. There’s something to be said about just giving it a go, and troubleshooting later. It can be a fun way to learn about the mechanics of it all, even if it means you try a few less-than-perfect dishes in the meantime.
So I had eased myself into fermenting flours by starting with the flatbread first. I’m not much of a measurer, which isn’t so bad when you’re nurturing a sourdough starter…mix flour, water, wait, add, mix, wait…and then add more, salt, mix, wait, bake! And my first attempt wasn’t a complete failure. Actually, I was pretty thrilled, and figured things could only get better. So with one sort-of success behind me I felt confident that my next loaf would no doubt succeed. But it didn’t. It fell. Very flat. Even so, it was still edible and deliciously sour. So despite my two somewhat polarized attempts, I’m envisioning years of home-baked bread and experiments before me. Plus, another wonderful perk is that you can make these pretty phenomenal savoury sourdough pancakes using the starter (a tip from Katz) and grate in any root veggies and pile on the krauts, kraut-chis, kefirs, and what have you. So there’s a silver living despite taking one step forward and falling (haha) back.
A couple weeks back I had the opportunity to sit in on an environmental law class at Ottawa University, where I was excited to be present for a discussion on the right to a healthy environment. I found it interesting to learn about political openness to changing the constitution, and developed an understanding of why opening the constitution to add the right to a healthy environment is more complicated than I had previously thought, such as the concern over what else might get weaseled into the constitution while it’s open. Though I had done my own reading on the precautionary principle and progression principle in their relation to environmental law, I was fascinated to learn about the public’s access to environmental decision-making, and the potentially nontransparent process.
Recently, on November 17th, I had the opportunity to further my understanding of such transparency issues when I sat in on the hearing for judicial review on the Genetically Modified (GM) salmon case. The case focuses on AquAdvantage salmon, which the Minister of Environment approved; this approval means that the company AquaBounty Technology could transport GM salmon eggs (modified for faster growth) from PEI to Panama for grow out, and then sell the salmon for consumption within North America. The federal government is being accused of failing to assess whether this GM salmon has potential risk for becoming invasive and toxic. Though the (up to 100,000) eggs have extra chromosomes that make them sterile, the range of sterility is around 95%, meaning that 5% may be fertile, and the Ecojustice lawyers representing the Ecology Action Centre and Living Oceans Society are claiming that this means there is risk involved and the GM salmon may be toxic or are capable of becoming toxic. Of course, this approval raises a host of biodiversity concerns. Furthermore, the government is accused of not giving proper public notice and transparency of the waiver that was granted. This, Ecojustice is claiming, is unreasonable.
Though there were certainly times when the legal jargon went right over my head, I found it exciting to be able to sit in and watch the action. The process is fascinating, and at times almost feels comical because of all the pomp and ceremony. But there was a thrill in being present for the process that may change the trajectory of the first GM animal approved for human consumption.
It seems to be that this is the time of year for fermenting. There is such an abundance of root veggies and cruciferous wonders that they need to be fermented lest they join the compost pile. Besides the kale (which I’ve heard so many fermenting horror stories about that I don’t feel the need to nurture my own disaster), I’ve been experimenting with mixing most CSA veggies into a kraut-chi. I think the process of experimentation in this manner is exciting, as each person will have particular inclinations toward some fermented foods and flavours over others. Fermenting feels like such an intuitive endeavour -mix veggies with salt and wait; and so I have, as jars of radish, carrot, fennel, peppers, cabbage, and turnip line the side table.
A ferment that is quickly becoming a favourite is the hot pepper sauce. It was simple enough -ferment peppers with garlic and salt and leave it for at least a month, checking for whether surface mould needs to be skimmed off. At the end, simply blend it until it reaches the desired consistency. It’s so lively and fresh tasting, with more flavour than many bottled hot sauces that seem to just have kick and not much else. But beware….the hands get to stinging once you’ve had them massaging the pepper for a time…but worth it? Yes.
I find that undertaking fermenting projects can be so fulfilling; it’s like mental yoga, for you get lots of time to think and connect with your thoughts as you methodically prepare ferments. Like cooking, it can be a regular way to maintain balance, and also a great way to connect with community. Well some family members may beg to differ, as much as I love a great kim(kraut)chi, I’ve driven many family members out of the room when I open a jar….or even if I just open the fridge containing an improperly lidded jar! My cousin suggested that if you eat it the smell doesn’t bother you as much, so that’s become my encouragement. My smellier mixes are the ones where I’ve chosen to use black salt, a himalayan variety known for its sulphurous odour. Delicious, maybe, but rather pungent.
Last weekend, lots of us convened to make cider from apples that dad and I have been picking for weeks. We all worked to mill the apples into pomace, then to press the pomace into juice. By the end, we had over 20 gallons, lots of which will be fermented into hard cider, but some of which is being enjoyed fresh and sweet. Again, like the mead, we will do some wild fermentation style and then some other jugs with added yeast.
I’m headed off for a month, and am looking forward to returning and tasting some ferments that I hope have transformed for the better.
I can’t quite believe how long it’s been since I last wrote. I must admit that this post has been in my drafts folder for quite some time now, as evidenced by how long my mead has been fermenting since then! I have had many moments where I had a sudden inclination to sit down and write, yet somehow the thoughts haven’t been funnelled onto the page as easily as I feel they arise (or as easily as mead is funnelled into jars ;-).
Though I’ve certainly had time for relaxing, I’ve not fallen to ‘decrepitness’, as my dad amusingly put it. Early rising, cycling the hectic roads of London, reading, cottaging, various little undertakings, and lots of fermenting projects and cooking with the family have kept me on my toes. Instead of trying to delve into all those endeavours, let me ramble on about one in particular -making mead.
There is something that strikes me as very communal about fermenting foods and drink. The communities of bacteria, cultures, yeasts…yes, that is certainly the beginning. But the sharing and love involved in fermenting is likely why I feel that it is such a communal undertaking; you’re working with communities of bacteria so that you may feed your own community and share with those around you the fruits of your fermenting ventures. As Sandor Ellix Katz aptly says in A Cultural Revivalist Manifesto, food is a “complex web of relationships” and “fermentation is one way in which we may consciously cultivate this web. This is a daily practice of cultural revival.” Maybe that’s partly why I have resisted paying for milk kefir grains since I’ve returned, since sharing grains and SCOBYs seems so much closer to the ethos of fermentation, and if you merely buy the starters then there is no expansion or connections made. But I digress, that may be a tangent for another post.
My brother and I began our mead making adventures when we discovered a big jug of dark honey that had been kicking around in the basement. Though we weren’t sure the quality was good enough for daily use, we figured it would be perfect for our initial attempt at making mead. We had two little carboys, so instead of making one batch and splitting it, we decided to do a more traditional wild ferment in one and then add a more commercial yeast to the other. Walker put cinnamon and a bit of chai tea in the yeasted mead, and I put a couple cups of rose petal tea into the wild fermented mead. My dad later started his own mead with raspberries, so we will hopefully have quite the tasting at some point. I’m delighted to report that they all got to bubbling, and the yeasted mead has now been bottled. I’m leaving the wild fermented mead to bubble a little longer before I rack it (move it into another vessel) to see whether it will then start to bubble again after stirring up the yeasts. I’m looking forward to giving it a bit of a taste when I rack it, but until then I’m contented listening to it bubble, a sound a fondly remember from my childhood and my dad’s yearly beer-making.