In my on going effort to
finish up all the winter stores, as late spring brings in its harvest filling
my basket, I am actively working to deplete my puttn’ ups. In the refrigerator
was the last of the pickled garlic scapes just enough to for a chopped salad -
finished. But that brine, it had been sitting in for the last 9 months, was
incredibly fragrant, I could not just toss it. So, over a pork butt I poured
the brine along with some clove, cinnamon, dried ginger and chilies and star
anise, and for about 36 hours the pork soaked up as much flavor as possible. I
guess I was feeling a smidge Asian (sorry, Cinco de Mayo I did not mean to
forsake you). It has to be that I have been thinking of Chinese bao, and the
leftovers I feel might end up being shredded into some steamed buns.
This is not the first time
I just could not toss the brine of a pickled vegetable. I have used them in
vinaigrettes; soaked grains for a few hours in the salty liquid. I have also
embraced the belief that everything has a second or tertiary purpose. The
strawberries that are coming home from the farmer’s market right now find their
hulls thrown into a bottle of white wine vinegar for a few weeks before being
strained out, and add to the compost pile. Ramps bottoms are already pickling
away though I did plug a bunch in the earth under the canopy of the maple trees
in the hopes that in the coming years I will be able to harvest my own. Of
course, herb stems are collected to be wrapped in a perforated foil packet for
a little smoke on the grill.
Perhaps, it is a bit less
of using up of what needs to be eaten, and making room for a new year’s crop of
playthings.
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