Nukazuke (Rice Bran) Pickle Recipe

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There are some foods that are just too damn exciting, and not just to the palate.  Nukazuke, rice bran pickles, fall into the “I wish I would have done this sooner” category.  Not only are they crisp, their flavor is subtle, but with a complexity unique to each vegetable’s qualities. And, just as significant, the fermentation process for making them is very simple and downright entertaining.  My own definition of what cures me is any activity or experience, which engages, vitalizes, and catalyzes healing.  It might be hard to imagine that a traditional Japanese pickling process could elicit such fizz in me. But it does. I always pay attention when any food processing activity excites, or as my friend Danny says, gives me juice. We all know this…if what we do gives us energy then we must be on the right track.

I found out about nukazuke pickles in the most traditional way — from my neighbor, Stewart.  He borrowed one of my most cherished books, The Art of Fermentation, by Sandor Ellix Katz, made a batch of the nukazuke pickles, and then gave me some samples. In due time, he offered me a lesson on how to ferment vegetables using this method.  Because Stewart has spent significant time in Southeast Asia and had previously tasted these pickles at their source, he was drawn to making them.

Stewart warned me that recipes for making these pickles vary widely, but since it’s a no-fail kind of process, he advised doing my own research and experimenting since ingredients were cheap.  That’s exactly what I did so the recipe that follows is a composite recipe based on The Art of Fermentation’s instructions, Stewart’s recommendations and my own google searches. I offer it as a guide, and like Stewart, encourage readers to try out their own versions, becoming their own resident authority on a method that they can share with neighbors.  One reason I love live culture foods is they survive because they are passed from organism-to-organism, household-to-household, and generation-to-generation.

In this fermentation method, we bury any and all types of vegetables in a rice bran and salt paste with a consistency like wet sand.  Depending on the ambient temperature, vegetables can pickle in a matter of hours or overnight, retraining their crispness. If you like a stronger, more sour taste and softer texture, the vegetables can be left in the rice bran for a few days or even months. This method of fermentation is reliant on a continuous supply of lactic-acid producing bacteria colonies, which comes from the surface of our bare hands and the skin of fruits and vegetables.

It is important to stir the nuka pot (crock if you have one) everyday with your hands to keep the healthy bacteria alive and to prevent mold.  Since this is a live culture, it emits an earthy almost nutty scent.  It can also be refrigerated if ambient summer temperatures become too warm (which might sour your nuka-bed), or if you go away for any length of time.

The reward for getting your hands nuka-covered everyday is finding your vegetable treasures buried in the nuka pot.  To my husband Craig’s delight, I’ve been serving a different pickle delicacy with dinner every night.  He exclaimed after sampling the kohlrabi, “This is sooo good.  You are really on to something!”

 Nukazuke Rice Bran Pickle Recipe

1. Use two pounds of rice bran. Use a glass or ceramic crock for your nuka pot.

I bought rice bran in one pound packages at our local Japanese food store (Uwajimaya).  If you can find fresh bran (wheat or rice) that is more ideal since bran can go rancid over time.

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2. Roast the rice bran until slightly darkened and gives off a roasted aroma.

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3. Make a slurry of 6 cloves of garlic and a big chuck of ginger in the cuisine art and add it to the bran. Optional:  red chili peppers with seeds removed.

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4.  Add 5 – 6 Tablespoons of salt to 6 cups of boiling water. Recipes vary greatly regarding salt content. Sandor Katz reports that recipes range from 5% – 25% salt content to the weight of bran so use your judgement and taste preferences. Chop up a piece of kombu seaweed and add to salted water.  Let water cool and then add salted water and kombu to rice bran until you find a consistency you like.  Some people prefer a wetter mixer.  I like a wet sand consistency, using only 4 1/2 cups of water.

5.  I added a cup of starter from Stewart’s batch however, if you are starting your culture from scratch you can add a piece of soaked bread, crushed dried eggshells, apple peelings, beer or sake to get the ferment going.  Again, recipes vary greatly as to whether you need any of these additional microbial prompts or not.

6.  After washing hands, stir nuka with your hands, aerating it well.  Bury a variety of different vegetables in your culture every day and remove them the next.  Some people salt rub their vegetables to stimulate the breakdown of vegetables, but it is not necessary if you want less salt.  Gradually, the vegetables start tasting more and more pickled.

On the fourth day I used a gnarly looking old kohlrabi that had been overwintering in my garden. I peeled and cut it into pieces, and buried both the leaves and root in the nuka pot.  Vegetables can be put in whole or sliced in the pot.

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7. Wipe away any residual bran from the sides of the vessel and pat surface down smooth after covering vegetables.

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8.  Cover pot with a clean cloth and use an rubber band to bind it.

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9.  The next day, remove the vegetables from the nuka pot, wipe off excess nukazuke paste into the pot. Wash off vegetables with cool water.  Occassionally add more rice bran and salt to your pot.

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Enjoy the nuanced taste of your nukazuke pickle as an appetizer or an ingredient in a salad.

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I look forward to the taste sensations my buried treasure brings me each day. I’ve tried cauliflower, red pepper, bok choi, daikon radish, red radish and celery. According to Craig, they have all been, “painfully good.”  Traditionally, eggplant, cucumber and cabbage are pickled.  If you start a nuka pot, please share your experiments with me.

On Good Shoes

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I love my shoes. Seventeen years ago, I ordered a pair of these custom made shoes at Michigan Women’s Music Festival, and have enjoyed both their durability and perpetually hip style all these years.  Currently, with these shoes and my black skinny jeans on, I fashion myself as one of the original albeit unrecognized Beatles. I love you ya ya ya.  Maybe it’s because I love them so much that I started fearing their inevitable break down, and so three Sundays ago, I went in search of new ones at the DSW (Designer Shoe Warehouse) store in Tukwila with best friend Anna who was on her own shoe hunt.

After entering the store, I initially felt confident I would find something with aisle after aisle of shoes and boots awaiting me. But, I wasn’t in the store more than ten minutes before I starting seeing all the single shoes on display more like cheap chess pieces than footwear.  I had the sick-in-my- gut feeling that if I bought a pair, I would end up being the pawn, the loser in this consumer game.  Upon inspection, and after trying on different shoes, I started feeling even more revulsion creep under my skin.  All these made in China shoes, even the brands I preferred like Keen or Merrells, were cheaply fabricated at a not-so-discounted price.  It was probably the sheer volume of shoeboxes that reminded me that every square inch of the store was designed to capture my money. Regardless, we both left DSW without spending a dime and feeling strangely vacant, at a loss for how to fulfill the longings which brought us there in the first place.

Which is why I redirected my attention and gave my old favorites some love this weekend.  I brought them to a shoe repair store for new heel plates (only $4.00), bought some soft insoles (only $3.95) for added comfort and then gave them a shine at home.  Taking good care of these well-crafted (and repairable) shoes reconnected me to their integrity and value.  With good maintenance, they could probably serve me for another ten years at least.

When I was in acupuncture school, I learned about the significance of taking care of one shoes during a session with a middle-aged man who came into the student clinic. He was an unusual patient because unlike most other patients who dressed casually, he came dressed in a nicely pressed suit and tie. I remember when the other intern and I sat with our supervisor discussing our observations and diagnosis, and she asked, “Did you notice his shoes?”  In fact, I did.  His shoes were old, worn and scuffed, and not at all in keeping with the rest of his expensive outfit. She reminded us that the state of his shoes suggested a kidney deficiency pattern because he was not taking care of his root, his feet. Other symptoms like fatigue, back and knee pain also supported this diagnosis.

I am reminded time after time that doing basic maintenance, whether it is on my car, body or shoes, always makes me feel more secure, well rooted, and self-valuing.

My shoes and I:  We’re good to each other.  After all, we have many more miles to go together.DSC06087

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garlic Soup Recipe

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Getting on an airplane to visit my mother tomorrow night prompted me to begin preparing my body for the trip by making a pot of microbe killing garlic soup. I’ve had one too many upper respiratory infections after airplane flights so going on the defensive seemed like a reasonable preventative measure. Just thinking about all the bacteria and viruses waiting for me on my seat or tray or in the collective bathroom is enough to make me sick before even boarding.

I figured I couldn’t lose with this recipe.  After all, 52 cloves of garlic, ½ cup of ginger, onions, lemon, cayenne and thyme are classic phlegm busters, and are capable of driving most pathogens out of the body. Was it overkill?  Maybe. When I made the soup, I wasn’t really thinking in terms of taste, I was thinking in terms of potency.  And I can assure you; this hot, pungent soup will send out a major warning to any microbe whose vector pathway might cross mine. Unfortunately, Craig, usually an adventurous gourmand, could only stomach four bites.  I ate my whole bowl with the curiosity and stamina of a seasoned traveler in a foreign country.  I can honestly say it was good…..very, very good for me.

Anyways, It’s my version of a flu shot, just way spicier, and likely more effective. If you have a cold, this soup might be just the thing to rid your body of the crud.

I followed this recipe:

In my batch, I also grated in some tumeric root for extra protection.

Modified Garlic Soup Recipe

Serves 4

26 garlic cloves (unpeeled)

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) organic butter

1/2 teaspoon cayenne powder

1/2 cup fresh ginger

2 1/4 cups sliced onions

1 1/2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme

26 garlic cloves, peeled

1/2 cup coconut milk

3 1/2 cups organic vegetable broth

4 lemon wedges

Preheat oven to 350F. Place 26 garlic cloves in small glass baking dish. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and toss to coat. Cover baking dish tightly with foil and bake until garlic is golden brown and tender, about 45 minutes. Cool. Squeeze garlic between fingertips to release cloves. Transfer cloves to small bowl.

Melt butter in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onions, thyme, ginger and cayenne powder and cook until onions are translucent, about 6 minutes. Add roasted garlic and 26 raw garlic cloves and cook 3 minutes. Add vegetable broth; cover and simmer until garlic is very tender, about 20 minutes. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Return soup to saucepan; add coconut milk and bring to simmer. Season with sea salt and pepper for flavor.

Squeeze juice of 1 lemon wedge into each bowl and serve.

Can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm over medium heat, stirring occasionally.

 

 

 

Minding Myself, Minding Others

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Besides the Zen meditation retreat I attended last weekend, I also had two mindfulness experiences last week that reinforced the value of my training.

In Janurary, I took a 6 session online webinar for facilitator training from the Prison Mindfulness Institute called, Path of Freedom, a mindfulness and emotional intelligence training for incarcerated youth and adults. As part of the curriculum, we, the facilitators-in-training, were taught about the concept of holding your seat, taken from the horse training sport of dressage.  Basically, the idea is to not let your mind or emotions drag you around like an out-of-control horse; instead, keep your center (hold your seat) as you ride through all your mental and emotional fluctuations.  For homework, we were asked to write about situations where we had to hold our seat within ourselves or with others.

Well, that week, I didn’t particularly have any triggers so I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to write about, but after going on a series of errands, I found I had plenty of material.  My first stop was to my local natural food store (PCC).  Even though I am ordinarily triggered by their high prices, on that day, I put items in my basket with relative equanimity.  It wasn’t until I was waiting in line to check out that I was challenged to hold my seat.  You see, the woman in front of me had some indecipherable issue with her debit card.  It was the kind of issue where back and forth communication between her and the cashier seemed to go on and on.  All customers have an intuitive sense of the amount of time that simple questions like, “Do you want cash back?” or “Did you bring your own bag?” should take, and this interaction was definitely taking too long by my clock. At the same moment my internal sensor was alerting me that I was in the wrong check out line, I decided to try the hold your seat exercise. Instead of focusing on the cashier, I focused on my breath and stilling my mind.  It’s not that I didn’t notice her inefficient use of time, or her poor spatial organization when she bagged her customer’s groceries; it was that I was relaxed and easy with it.  Just as I was settling into taking whatever time it was going to take, I noticed at the edge of my periphery vision, a cashier at the next register opening her drawer. I made a beeline to that register, beating out other customers to be the first in line.  Holding my seat didn’t mean I needed to stay frozen in an unwanted situation. Instead, by centering myself, I was able to relax and keep my awareness open and alert so I could fluidly move out of stasis.

My next stop was to get gas at the Safeway gas station on Rainier Avenue S. When I opened the door to the cashier’s kiosk, I had an instant flash of irritation, an inner harrumph, as I was once again at the back of a long line of customers waiting to pay while a man at the front of the line was raising his voice with the cashier.  “Not this again,” I thought to myself.  This time, the tension wasn’t all within me, although I did have my own fair share given that the Safeway on Rainier Avenue is the epicenter of gang-related violence in South Seattle. I was all too aware that an angry man could turn into a dangerous man in this setting, but I decided to focus on holding my seat, rather than entertaining random fear.  Ordinarily, in this kind of situation, I would be primarily focused on listening to my own internal annoyance, but as I stilled my mind, I started listening, really listening, to the biracial man at the head of the line.  Apparently, he did his own calculations and the amount printed on his debit receipt was inaccurate.  After the cashier asked the man to step aside for a few minutes so he could take care of the other customers waiting in line before attending to his issue, I made eye contact from my place in the line and said, “You did the math, eh?”

“Yep, and this receipt says I saved 70 cents but actually I only saved 45 cents.   It’s wrong.”

“They (meaning The Man) count on us not doing the math, on us being stupid.”

“You got that straight,” he agreed.  Two African Americans in line in front of me also turned toward me, and nodded, adding to the consensus.

“Thanks for speaking up,” I said.

“You GOT TO!”

“Yep, I learned something real important today.”

After I paid for my gas and started walking towards the door, the formerly angry man, now the acknowledged man, said, “You have a real nice day, Miss.”

Being mindful doesn’t mean just being exclusively focused on yourself, and your own internal experience.  No, being mindful means opening up your whole sensory body to really experience what’s happening, both inside and around you.  If we practice mindfulness every day, and have the discipline to hold our seat, we might become enlightened in every ordinary situation.