Yesterday, we began a new Thanksgiving tradition in
our family, one that involves three of my favorite things in life: a bit of
nostalgia, a feeling of hope and gratefulness, and candy. Specifically, one
adorable three dimensional peppermint pig.
Recently, my parents traveled to Saratoga Springs, NY,
where they learned about the holiday tradition of the peppermint pig. Beginning
in Victorian times, each year, as families sat together after completing their
holiday meal, a tiny peppermint pig made his way to the table. Someone,
probably the hostess, would tuck the pig into a small velvet pouch and remind
everyone that the pig is the symbol of health, happiness and prosperity. Soon,
the velvet pouch, along with a delicate silver hammer, made it's way to each
guest. When the pig reached your plate, it was your job to give the pig a firm
tap with the hammer and then share a story of the past year's good fortune with
the other guests.
It was hard not to become overwhelmed with emotion as
I sat and listened as everyone at our family table shared his story. Some
guests were grateful for new careers. Others were grateful for good health and
new children. Some were grateful for new homes and new relationships. I'm
certain we were all pretty grateful for the amazing meal.
Last Thanksgiving, even though we had a roof over our
head and food in our fridge, I had a difficult time finding the joy in the
season. The chef and I had no permanent storefront and therefore no permanent
place to prepare the food we needed to prepare for the multiple holiday pop-up
markets we were committed to participating in. Most nights, to compensate, we
maintained a constant rotation of meat in our small apartment oven (and our
neighbors' small apartment ovens) and, in the middle of the night, drove back
and forth to the two incubator kitchens we were renting -- one in Brooklyn and
one in Jersey. Our bank account was dwindling (i.e.: gone) as we struggled to
help our business grow, we were at each other's throats as we tried to keep up,
and we both were starting to feel like our dream of opening our own store front
was strictly a fantasy.
It's pretty unreal how much positive change a single
year can bring.
It all feels like a lifetime ago, like some set of
distant, foggy memories that we didn't quite live through, even though I know
damn well that we did. And so yesterday, when the peppermint pig landed at my
place setting, there were so many stories of happiness I wanted to share from
this past year. However, at the risk of getting too emotional (I'm definitely
the one who notoriously cries tears of joy in our family), I picked up the
silver hammer and simply said "I'm grateful for our shop." But
beneath that statement, what I really meant was that I'm grateful for all the
moments the chef and I shared this year that led us to our shop. All the
sacrifices we made together, and the many nights when we talked and cried
together into our pillows because we were both so afraid. All the moments of
small victory and the many moments of defeat and rejection and bad recipes. All
the late nights when we blasted music in our kitchen, and spent hours wrapping
up trays of braised meat, even though we had to be awake again in three hours.
In short, now that we are on the other side of things, I'm thankful for those
moments of struggle: all those moments when we learned that we truly have the
capacity as a couple to help one another out of dark times and to guide each
other into some of the best. It makes the good times taste a little bit sweeter,
and makes our commitment to each other feel a whole hell of a lot
stronger.
Last week, I was thrilled to publish a "Small
Batch" column over at Food 52 for these Pickled Chard Stems.
I was impossibly thankful to have a few jars of them on hand the other
night when two of my girlfriends stopped by unexpectedly to catch up very late
on a Friday night. We gathered around my kitchen table as I pulled a few hunks
of Vermont cheddar, several half consumed bottles of white wine, and two mason
jars of these pickled chard stems from our fridge, quickly assembling
everything into some sort of presentable looking spread. It was one of those
nights where we sat for hours laughing and reminiscing about the past year, and
confiding in each other about all the new memories we hope to make in the year
ahead. I'm ever so grateful to have those sorts of friends, the sort who make
you laugh until your cheeks hurt and who won't judge you for serving them
on-the-way-out booze. So, as I topped off their glasses, I thanked them for
stopping by and for forcing me to stop working on social media tasks for the
shop. And of course, I thanked them once again for their ovens, too.
Pickled Chard Stems
- 2 large bunches of chard, leaves removed
- 1 cup white wine vinegar
- 1/2 cup water
- 3 tablespoons sugar
- 2 cloves garlic, smashed
- 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
- 1 tablespoon yellow mustard seeds
Thoroughly rinse the chard stems. Trim their ends and
remove any remaining leaves with a sharp knife. In a large saucepan, blanch the
stems for one minute. Immediately drain the stems and rinse them with cold
water to stop the cooking process.
Add all remaining ingredients to a small saucepan and
bring to a boil. In the meantime, tightly pack the chard stems into a glass jar
and set aside. Remove the saucepan from the heat and allow the brine to cool
slightly, about one to two minutes. Pour the brine into the jar, being sure to
cover the chard stems completely. Allow to cool to room temperature. Seal the
jar with a tight fitting lid. When kept covered and chilled, the pickles will
keep well for 1-2 weeks.
I want to make these with my harvest for this year to give in gourmet gift baskets for the holidays. I was thinking, these, some homemade chevre, and a bottle of homemade dandelion wine. Do you have instructions for canning these? I found one other recipe for canning pickled chard stems, but it calls for 2 different vinegars, totaling 1.5 cups of vinegar, for the same amount of chard. Can I achieve the same percentage of acidity with just 1 cup of vinegar? Thanks so much!
ReplyDeleteJackie
PS- how spicy are these?
ReplyDeleteHi Jackie,
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by! That sounds like an amazing gift basket, one I'd certainly love to receive! To answer your questions: the recipe is not terribly spicy. However, you can certainly lessen the amount of red pepper flake by about half. I've done this myself from time to time and have found that so long as you keep the garlic amount the same the recipe is still very flavorful. I've always made these as a "quick pickle" and have never canned them myself. However, based on my canning experience, I'd imagine that you can follow the recipe using just 1 cup, which is still more than enough acidity to keep them safe while they hang out on the shelf in the off season. Hope this helps!