Cabbage, salt in.
Sauerkraut out.
You know the drill.
Forty days, 40 nights,
God willing,
For an early Christmas present.
Don’t fail me, Self.
MOST REQUESTED
LOCAL FOOD AROUND BOSTON
Family Cookbook
The Italians of New Haven, CT
DAILY CRYPTOGRAM
For more pithy cryptograms, visit codeSparrow.com.
ME...IN PRINT
« Closing Out the ELC | Main | Soup Season »
November 04, 2009
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Good luck. Turning to the Perfect Pickler for mine.
Posted by: Jess | 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...
Posted by: NurseJen | 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.
Posted by: Amuse-bouche for Two | November 04, 2009 at 04:55 PM
Wait, don't tell me--e. e. cummings, right?
Posted by: Barry Foy | November 05, 2009 at 08:36 AM
Barry: Riiiiiight.
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.
Posted by: Tammy | November 06, 2009 at 06:04 PM
Oh I'm hoping for the best for you. My maiden batch came out all mushy.
Posted by: Alana | November 07, 2009 at 08:12 AM