How to make fridge pickles

If you’re an organised person, you’ve probably spent the last month pickling and bottling your summer harvest. (If reports of queues outside New Zealand supermarkets were anything to go by yesterday, then you probably spent yesterday panic-buying hand sanitiser and disinfectant.) Not me, on either count. As in most parts of my life, I’m the cricket who sang all summer and then realised they should have been storing stuff away for winter. I mean, you should see my Kiwisaver.

The good news is that you can have your fun – and your pickles – without all the hassle you might think is involved in such a task. Once you learn how to make fridge pickles, you’ll be every bit as smug as one of those people who does everything in advance.

How to make fridge pickles

To make a basic cold pickle brine, use a 1:1 ratio of water to vinegar, plus salt, sugar and flavourings (whole spices, garlic, chillies) to taste. Use your favourite kind of vinegar – I think white wine vinegar or apple cider vinegar are best. Here’s a sample pickling brew to give you an idea:

  • ½ cup water
  • ¼ cup white wine vinegar
  • ¼ cup cider vinegar
  • 1 Tbsp salt
  • 1 Tbsp sugar

Put everything in a small pot set over medium heat. Stir well until the mixture is hot and the salt and sugar are dissolved. Add the spices/flavourings of your choice – about 1 tsp whole seeds to a cup of brine. Taste it to make sure you like the flavour – adjust the salt and sugar accordingly.
Pack whatever washed (and/or peeled) vegetables you want to pickle in a sterilised jar (cleanliness is even better than godliness when it comes to pickling – wash jars in hot soapy water, rinse well and heat in a 120C oven for 20 minutes. Soak lids in boiling water for 10 minutes, then dry thoroughly with a clean tea towel). I recommend the following, either separately or in a mixture:

  • Carrots – slice them into long strips, lengthways
  • Cucumbers – slice them into long strips, lengthways
  • Chillies – keep them whole
  • Radishes – slice them into discs or batons
  • Zucchini –  slice them into discs or batons

Make sure the vegetables take up all the room in the jar – but leave about a 2cm gap at the top. Pour over the brine to cover the vegetables, making sure there are no air bubbles (tap the jar on the bench to pop them, or poke around with a skewer). Seal tightly and store in the fridge until you’re ready to eat. These pickles can be eaten after 48 hours – and you’re best to consume them within two months.

Thanks to Amber Sturtz (of Taco Addicts fame) for an excellent pickling tutorial at a recent Welly Hospo Wahine event.

Rhubarb and rose ice cream

As I write this, I’m sweating through another French heatwave. Please note this is a climate phenomenon, not a fancy euphemism for an affliction suffered by women of a certain age. If you’re currently in winter’s grip, you might think a heatwave sounds lovely. Trust me, when the temperatures soar above 40C and it feels like your brain is swelling faster than your ankles, you’ll think differently.

Image of pale creamy ice cream scattered with whole pink rosebuds. Some is scooped into a small crystal bowl.

It’s too hot to eat in this kind of weather and you soon learn that a cold beer only makes you feel hotter (and not in a good way). So I am contenting myself with thoughts of cold, refreshing ice cream. If I had some right now, I’d scoop out a bowlful and bury my face in it. I’d rub a palmful on the back of my neck and let the rest slide down the backs of my knees. But I digress. If you’re lucky enough to be in cooler climes, you can enjoy this fruity ice cream in a more traditional manner. As Weird Al Yankovic once sang, just eat it.

Rhubarb and rose ice cream
This will convert any rhubarb haters in your household – the rhubarb cuts through the richness of the cream and the sweetness of the condensed milk.

450g rhubarb, chopped into 2cm pieces
3 Tbsp caster sugar
¼ cup water
600ml cream
1 x 400g tin condensed milk
3 tsp rosewater
Dried rose petals, for garnishing


Put the rhubarb, sugar and water in a small pot set over low heat. Stir well, then cover and cook for about 10 minutes, until the rhubarb is very soft. Remove from the heat and tip the rhubarb into a bowl. Set aside to cool completely (this can be done up to three days in advance and stored in the fridge).
Whip the cream until it just reaches the soft peak stage. Pour in the condensed milk and rosewater and stir until well combined. Fold through the rhubarb and pour into a plastic container or lined loaf tin. Cover and freeze for five to six hours. Remove from the freezer and allow to soften for 10 minutes before serving. Garnish with dried rose petals if desired. Makes about 1.25 litres.

Love rhubarb? You might like this rhubarb and raspberry shortcake, this quick curd or this decadent rhubarb fool

ends

Creamy parsnip soup

I’m currently trying to get to grips with a range of different French idiomatic expressions involving food, such as ‘raconter des salades’ (literally: to tell some salad – to spin a story), and ‘la moutarde me monte au nez’ (literally: the mustard goes up my nose – I’m getting really angry).

This has reminded me of two things – one, teaching a Khmer colleague in Cambodia the New Zealand expression that ‘it’s all going to custard’ and two, of the English saying that ‘fine words butter no parsnips’. The former is a way of saying that everything is going wrong, but the latter is somewhat harder to explain. I think it means that fancy words mean little, but I’m not entirely sure. However, I am much more certain about this parsnip soup, which is entirely fine and yet contains very little butter. I’m not telling you any salads, I promise.

Creamy parsnip soup

Serves 4-6

60g butter

2 tsp olive oil

2 large onions, finely diced

3 large cloves garlic, finely sliced

1 kg parsnips (about 8 large ones), peeled and cut into chunks

1 sprig fresh thyme

4 cups chicken stock

Juice of one lemon

½ cup cream, plus a little extra for drizzling

Heat the butter and oil in a large, heavy pot. Add the onions and garlic, and cook for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the parsnips and cook for a further 10-15 minutes, until softened and starting to turn golden. Add the chicken stock and simmer gently for another 5-10 minutes, until the parsnips are soft. Remove the thyme, and puree with a stick blender or a mouli. To make it really silky, push the puree through a sieve (tedious, but worth it). Stir in the lemon juice and cream, then return to the heat and warm through (don’t let it boil) before serving.

If you’re in the mood for more winter soups, check out my latest crop of recipes on bite.co.nz.

Blackcurrant quinoa porridge

How do you define a superfood? The venerable Oxford Dictionary says it’s “a nutrient-rich food considered to be especially beneficial for health and well-being”. Whether you buy into the superpowers of so-called superfoods is a matter of personal choice and/or susceptibility to clever marketing. I think there’s also room in your daily diet for things that make you feel super-happy, or that you just really enjoy eating. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, a superfood can be all those things.

Take blackcurrants, for instance. The small-but-mighty blackcurrant, with its powerful burst of tart, purple juice, has superfood status thanks to its high levels of vitamin C and calcium. Blackcurrant skins also contain impressive levels of antioxidants. Recent studies point to blackcurrants having beneficial impacts on mental and physical health (a brand of New Zealand blackcurrant powder is also endorsed by several athletes, who claim it boosts their recovery time and performance).

Now, not being either a scientist or an athlete, I can’t say with any certainty that blackcurrants are the answer to all your problems. But I can promise you that this blackcurrant quinoa porridge is a nutrient-rich breakfast that will set you up for whatever the day may throw at you. And if you top it with a blob of creme fraiche or mascarpone, you’ll definitely be on to a winner.

A bowl of dark purple quinoa and blackcurrant porridge topped with a blob of creme fraiche.

Blackcurrant and quinoa porridge

You might think you don’t have time to cook something for 10 minutes in the morning, but it’s all a matter of perspective and planning. What I do, when time is short, is set this up on the stove and then attend to some other task (like having a shower, or getting cross at a politician being interviewed on the radio, or making a school lunch). It’s multi-tasking, but at a very gentle level. Just don’t go off to work and forget that you’ve got something cooking on the stove!

1/2 cup quinoa, rinsed under cold running water

1 cup water

3/4 – 1 cup milk (dairy or not, as you choose)

1 tsp natural vanilla extract

1/2 cup frozen blackcurrants

Put the quinoa and water in a small pot set over medium heat. Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce the heat. Simmer for 10 minutes, until the water is absorbed and the quinoa ‘tails’ are visible. Stir in the milk, vanilla and blackcurrants and cook over low heat for another five minutes, until the mixture is thick and porridge-like. Divide between two bowls and top with a dollop of cream, creme fraiche, mascarpone or Greek yoghurt. Serves 2.

If you’re interested in New Zealand quinoa, check out this story (excuse shameless self-promo) about The New Zealand Quinoa Company, who are growing and harvesting quinoa in Taranaki.

Instant gin and lemon fools

Goodness knows the world could use a few laughs right now, but this recipe is no joke. It’s what you make when you suddenly realise you have people coming for dinner and you need to whip up some sort of small, elegant pudding that will round out the night nicely. These almost-instant fools are the answer.

Having spent a somewhat gin-soaked summer – I got three bottles of the good stuff for Christmas (one of them was a miniature, before you plan an intervention) – I’ve been enjoying finding different ways to use them. Mostly we’ve drunk them neat or with a little ice, especially the Little Biddy West Coast Botanical Gin from Reefton Distilling Co and Bloody Shiraz Gin from Four Pillars Gin in the Yarra Valley. The latter is also really good to sip while you’re nibbling squares of very dark chocolate (sensitive souls will need to brace themselves for the resulting headache the next morning).

These little fools, however, I made with the contents of the miniature – Malfy Lemon Gin from Italy. You could use any gin, really, but once you’ve tasted the craft variety the standard gins seem a little rough around the edges. If you’ve got lemon curd stashed away (here’s a super-easy recipe), this takes minutes to make.

Instant gin and lemon fools

Serves 4

1 cup Greek yoghurt

1/2 cup lemon curd

4 Tbsp gin

50g white chocolate, finely chopped (optional)

Put all the ingredients in a bowl and stir until combined. Divide between four small glasses. Chill for at least 20 minutes before serving with little crisp biscuits (this shortbread would be excellent). Cheers!

Like finding creative ways to use gin? These gin recipes might tickle your fancy…