Adventures in Fermentation is my new blog series over at Sustainable Table. Apparently it was Twittered too (I’m not familiar) and placed on their RSS feed. I’ll be posting a fermentation adventure about once a month. Goal #1: Set Goals. Goal #2: Stick to Goals.

Throughout the Adventure I hope to cover:
Wild Fermented Pickles, Ginger Beer, Sauerkraut, Beer, Kombucha, Kefir, Kimchi, Bread, Olives, Miso and more! The next installment will speak more about fermentation in general, and perhaps provide a report back of an upcoming fermentation party I’ll be attending (I received the invite 3 months ago so I could ferment on my attendance).

I realize most of my readers are the quiet lurking type, but I would love to get some comments going about things you like to ferment, recipes you have, or funny fermenting stories.

The post is below, or head over to Sustainable Table to read it, and other great stories!

Welcome to the first installment of Adventures in Fermentation. In these postings we’ll explore the universe of fermented foods, happenings in the fermentation world, and delve into some recipes to try.

Fermented food and drink are not just wine, beer, and pickles! There is a whole universe of fermented foods to explore. In the next issue, I’ll talk more about what fermentation is exactly and its many positives, but until then, let’s jump right into something soft and cloudy: yogurt.

That’s right, yogurt is a fermented food (remember the term probiotic for the next posting). It is one of the simpler fermented foods to make, requires few supplies, and is something most of us are familiar enough with that you might be willing to try it.

Here’s a kicker that might get you making your own yogurt:
Yogurt on the market most of us are accustomed to has added thickeners (tapioca, citrus pulp, cornstarch, or other synthetic agents) added to make the end product a thick and even consistency (there are also a lot of sugars added). We sometimes also see “with probiotics” stamped on the container. Yogurt naturally is a probiotic food, so forget that claim. The real question is: Why eat all those extras if all you want is yogurt?

Yogurt that does not use thickeners, is much thinner, sometimes even lumpy. To make the consistency weightier, without thickeners, producers often drain the product losing a lot of whey in the process (which can be used to bake bread with). I have heard if you heat the milk to a higher temperature before adding culture you can thicken your yogurt further, but if you are using raw milk products, you run the risk of killing heat sensitive bacteria that makes milk digestible.

I enjoy homemade goat yogurt (made with goat milk) topped with granola, a scoop of homemade preserves, or simply as a yogurt beverage similar to kefir (another fermented food) full of all those great probiotics.

If you are interested in making your own yogurt, it is fairly simple. (read on for the details!)

You will need:
• raw milk or high quality organic milk
• yogurt cultures
• a large pot to heat the milk
• a cooking thermometer
• a glass jar to store your yogurt
• cheesecloth

If you have a friend with a batch of yogurt going, you can grab about 2 tablespoons of their finished yogurt per gallon of fresh milk to make your own yogurt. If not, I recommend purchasing cultures (both a thicker European culture or “tangy” culture) from New England Cheese Making Supplies.

The final yogurt recipe is dependent on the culture you use.

If you don’t want to bother with cultures, you can try using store-bought yogurt as your starter:

1/2 gallon organic (or raw) whole milk
1 cup organic yogurt

Heat the milk on medium-low heat in a saucepot to 165 F, do not bring to a boil. Remove from heat and allow milk to cool to 110 F. Add yogurt, stir to incorporate, cover with a clean kitchen towel and secure with a rubber band or tie. Place in a warm location, undisturbed, overnight (inside a turned off oven works great). The next day, transfer to storage container and refrigerate. To thicken the yogurt, strain it through multiple layers of cheesecloth or a coffee filter. Reserve whey that drains for baking.

More ideas:
Use goat or sheep milk for other tangy yogurt creations
Sprinkle with cinnamon and a drizzle of honey

Yogurt is not just for breakfast or a snack! Try some of these ideas:
Blitz your yogurt with chickpeas or white beans for a delicious spread
Serve a dollop over grilled lamb
Use on your sandwich instead of mayo
Mix with garlic and a chipotle pepper and top a quesadilla
Add a dollop to soup
Use it in baked goods, or whip it with powdered sugar as icing
Make a fruit smoothie

Two recipes in two days? I must be going crazy. More likely, I have a few heavy weeks ahead of me and I thought this to be the perfect Valentine treat for you and your honey. Also, if your schedule is looking to be as hectic as mine (or you want to indulge in something that tastes like it took forever to make), this cake whips together in minutes, requires no dreaded cheesecake water bath baking, is light as a cloud, and as pure as heaven.

A while back I had an opportunity to purchase raw goat milk. Despite dreaming of a goat cheese-lavender-honey ice cream since summer, I made yogurt. But with this recipe today, I am one step closer to my ice cream dreams. Why? Because this recipe certifies that the effort for ice cream will be a delicious payback. If anyone out there wants to try ice cream and report back, by all means go for it!

A few weeks back I was flipping through my food magazines when a goat cheese cake got me thinking about my goat cheese ice cream dreams. While it’s too cold now for ice cream (okay, honestly, it is never too cold for ice cream), a little cheesecake might be just the thing to test my combination. With some newly engaged friends coming over for dinner I had a perfect excuse too.

So I set out altering the cheesecake to my own likings. I think further changes can be made to bring out more intense flavors, like the addition of lavender oil (is that food safe?) to the cake. And maybe the topping could go for a tablespoon of heavy cream just to thicken it slightly. I also tried to find chocolate wafers, but couldn’t. (And refused the advice of a local shopkeeper who recommended using vanilla wafers and blitzing it with chocolate syrup.) The lavender is subtle in the crust, the honey is just right and the goat cheese is not at all overpowering. The finished cake is not too sweet, so test the sweetness, or just drizzle extra honey over the top.

Honey Lavender Goat Cheese Cake
Makes 12 servings. Active Time= 20 minutes. Inactive Time= 2.5 hours.
Crust:
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon organic lavender buds, no stems
8 ounces chocolate cookie (Recommended: Newman’s Organic Choco Alphabet Cookies)
Filling:
12 ounces goat cheese, at room temperature
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups heavy cream, cold
Topping:
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon organic lavender buds

1 buttered 9-inch springform pan.

In a small saucepan over medium heat combine butter, honey and lavender. Heat until everything is just melted together. Use a food processor to pulse cookies until grainy. Add butter combination to cookies and pulse until combined. Lavender will be mostly broken apart. Push into springform pan, refrigerate 30 min. Whip goat cheese, lemon juice, honey and salt until smooth. Add heavy cream, whip until thick. Pour into crust and smooth top using a spatula. Refrigerate at least 2 hours. For topping, just before serving, warm honey and lavender a few minutes to infuse. Drizzle over cake, straining and serve.

At twenty-six years old, my grandmother ran from her country under the protection of the night’s sky. She ran with four children under the age of seven, her husband, and a lifetime of recipes tucked away in her mind. That night they left behind their friends, livestock, farm, language, family, country and way of life, in an attempt to gain freedom. It was a process that would take five years in a refugee camp before being adopted into the United States. A process where they would not be able to return to their homeland or speak with relatives for forty years.

During her life in Latvia, well before women held jobs out of the house, my grandmother was head chef at an all-girls boarding school—those lucky girls. There, she cooked up piradzini (soft, doughy crescent-shaped rolls stuffed with bacon or mushrooms), kotlettes (ground meat patties), and my family’s all-time favorite nac rita atkal.

Nac rita atkal translates as “come back tomorrow.” “In the old days,” my grandmother, now ninety-two, will say in her still broken English, “parties lasted days, with friends sleeping between dancing and eating, close to the fire.” One has to imagine, in a country that can get so cold, where winter nights go on for days, a party that lasts until the one hour of sun-up isn’t a party, it’s a way of life. Snow is not a wispy blanket, but coats the ground in a waist-high thicket. “At those parties,” my grandmother still remembers wistfully, we made nac rita atkal.

My brothers and I know them simply as Latvian Pancakes. They are beyond a treat in my house. They are so good, that even in the six years of my noble vegetarianism, my grandmother knew to make me a veggie version of the savory snack to keep the household peace.

This is a recipe that must always be secretly doubled. One batch goes onto the table for immediate consumption (if it can make it to the table), while the other gets whisked away quickly and quietly, carefully hidden in an odorless, opaque, non-conspicuous container on the other side of the house until everyone is good and stuffed. Even then, it’s whereabouts and contents must be kept unknown except to the privileged few.

To this day, Latvian Pancakes are the one food my brothers and I still fight over to take home frozen. I ration mine down to the week, knowing precisely how many I can eat to keep my addiction at stasis before the next batch will grace my plate.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to write any of my grandmother’s recipes down. They are stored neatly in her brain, now getting a bit foggy, so my uncle has taken to video taping her kitchen movements. She moves quickly. Too fast to measure anything beyond how many eggs are used– which also varies depending on her mood, the outside temperature, the position of the sun, and countless other variables. “Grandma, how much flour?” I’ll ask. “This much,” she says thrusting her fist into the flour and tossing a handful into the mixing bowl. She stirs. “So… one cup?” I question. “No, more!” she declares adding more bit by bit until the batter is to her liking.

While I do not have my grandmother’s exact recipe for this pancake, I am able make a butchered version that is pretty good. After all, I have come to realize, it’s my grandmother’s touch and bittersweet memories of her home that make them truly perfect.

The pancakes are minced meat, always leftovers, usually beef, stuffed inside perfectly folded golden crepes. Turkey makes a decent filling, especially useful with Thanksgiving leftovers and roasted vegetables with mushrooms can pass as edible. Traditionally served with sour cream, apple or cranberry sauce, though also excellent plain, I argue there is no finer dish.

Nac Rita Atkal (Come Back Tomorrow or Latvian Pancakes)
About 25 pancakes
Crepe:
1-1/4 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 eggs
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup melted butter

In a medium-sized bowl, sift together dry ingredients. Create a moat in the middle, add remaining ingredients. Whisk together, smoothing out lumps. Refrigerate at least 2 hours, ideally 8 hours minimum. Note: If batter gets too thick, thin lightly with water.

Warm a dollop of butter on a 9-inch skillet over medium heat. Ladle in the batter, tipping the pan quickly to spread evenly, paper-thin. Brown one side golden, 2 to 3 minutes, then flip onto a plate. Continue with remaining batter.

Filling:
3-1/2 cups roasted beef (recommended: leftover brisket), roughly chopped
1/2 cup roasted mushrooms, chopped
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock
1/4 cup chopped onions, sautéed golden
1/4 cup sour cream (or 1/2 sour cream 1/2 gravy)
salt, to taste

Working in batches, pulse all ingredients in a food processor until chopped to the consistency of wet ground beef. Add salt if needed.

Working with the crepes golden (cooked) side up, place two heaping tablespoons in the center. Fold the bottom up over the filling, then the top down, then sides, forming a small tight, square pocket. (The uncooked side of the crepe acts like a glue to hold crepes together lightly.) Transfer seam-side down to a plate. Repeat until all crepes are filled.

Return the skillet to medium-high heat, warming a large dollop of butter. Place a layer of stuffed pancakes seam down. Cook 3 minutes until golden, turn and cook another 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a plate, continuing to cook assembled pancakes.

Serve with sour cream, apple and/ or cranberry sauce.