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Cabbage, salt in.
You know the drill.
Forty days, 40 nights,
For an early Christmas present.
Don’t fail me, Self.
Posted at 09:23 AM | Permalink
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Good luck. Turning to the Perfect Pickler for mine.
November 04, 2009 at 02:49 PM
Somehow I'm picturing you all in black, wearing a beret and little wire-rimmed sunglasses, holding bongo drums...
November 04, 2009 at 03:21 PM
There were a couple of years were my parents made sauerkraut. Some of the best I've ever eaten. Love pickled things.
Amuse-bouche for Two |
November 04, 2009 at 04:55 PM
Wait, don't tell me--e. e. cummings, right?
Barry Foy |
November 05, 2009 at 08:36 AM
Amuse-bouche for Two: Me, too. Your blog is lovely, by the way. I enjoyed it.
NurseJen: If, by wire-rimmed sunglasses, you mean my regular glasses, and if, by beret, you mean a do-rag, and if, by black, you mean my pajamas, and if, by drums, you mean no drums, then you're right!!!
Jess: It matters not how the cabbage becomes pickled, only that it does. Godspeed.
November 06, 2009 at 06:04 PM
Oh I'm hoping for the best for you. My maiden batch came out all mushy.
November 07, 2009 at 08:12 AM
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