Pickling mojo.

Madison.

The market breakfast this morning features roasted Sungold tomatoes again, which reminds me that Sharon and I are nearly out of our own garden tomatoes. I think there are only two pint jars left - one of Green Zebras, another of mixed red and black varieties. Forty pounds sure seemed like a lot of tomatoes to can last August, but I'm sure I'll be wishing we'd done more come April and May, before they appear again at the market.

We're also nearly out of pickles, which tells me that experiment was a roaring success. For a six-dollar bucket of cucumbers (plus a little salt and vinegar and herbs), they've been well worth it. This year, I'm planning to try pickling everything I can get fresh and cheap. Or that's overly plentiful in the garden. So far, I'm definitely planning on asparagus, snap beans, carrots and onions, but I'm sure there'll be plenty else out there.

When looking through seed catalogs this year, I recall running across a small, tightly-headed lettuce variety that was pickled in the nineteenth century. So I guess anything's possible.

I'm also anxious to try fermented pickles again this year. Last year was a failure. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but the pickles smelled contaminated. I've got a newer, more specific recipe to test out now, so we'll see how that pans out. Having never had any, I'm not sure what the difference is between quick pickling, but Nick, who grew up in Romania, pines for them. Apparently, his grandmother would throw all of the fresh harvest they couldn't eat right away into a big crock, work her pickling mojo, and they'd have pickled vegetables all winter.

I gotta get me some of that mojo.