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.

HEMP HEART COOKIES

Is Valentine’s Day a ridiculous commercial construct, designed to part fools and their money? Yes, probably. Will I ever get over the time I was given a plastic rose for Valentine’s Day when I was 17? No, probably not (though the giver went on to disappoint me in far more damaging ways – I knew the rose was a sign!).

Whatever you might think of Valentine’s Day, the world’s going to hell in a handcart. If ever there was a time to eat heart-shaped cookies (especially these ones), it’s now. Make them to give away, make them to eat yourself. Love means never having to say ‘I’m sorry, I ate the last one’, right?

Hemp products are the current darlings of the wholefood world, especially hemp seeds (also known as hemp hearts). Their nutritional profile (they are high in protein, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, magnesium, sulfur, calcium, iron and zinc, among other things) means they have so-called superfood status. I think you’d need to eat a heck of a lot of them to benefit, but it’s all good marketing just the same. Flavour-wise, they have a sweet, nutty taste similar to pine nuts (and cost nearly as much, so you don’t need a lot!) The glossy, green oil is also incredibly delicious (and a bottle of it would make a great Valentine’s Day gift for that person you adore, hint hint)…

Hemp heart cookies

These are based on a wholemeal biscuit recipe from my mother’s notebooks. I remember her making them once or twice and we spread the tops with melted chocolate for a kind of primitive chocolate digestive biscuit. Oh, I do love chocolate digestives! There’s no chocolate on these ones, but don’t let that stop you drizzling a bit on top after baking.

  • 1/2 cup plus 1 Tbsp wholemeal flour
  • 1/3 cup self-raising flour
  • A pinch of salt
  • 3 firmly packed Tbsp brown sugar, plus 1 Tbsp more for sprinkling
  • 3 Tbsp hemp hearts, plus 1 Tbsp more for sprinkling
  • 60g butter
  • 2 1/2 – 3 Tbsp milk

Heat the oven to 180C. Line a baking tray with baking paper (or grease lightly).

Put all the dry ingredients in a food processor and whiz to mix. Add the butter and process until blended. Keep the motor running and pour in the milk until the mixture clumps. Alternatively, do this by hand: mix the dry ingredients in a bowl, rub in the butter until it looks breadcrumb-y, then mix in the milk.

If you’ve got time, wrap the dough in a piece of baking paper and chill in the fridge for 30 minutes. If not (I don’t think it makes a huge difference), roll out to about 3-4mm thick and cut into shapes.

Transfer to the lined baking tray and sprinkle over the brown sugar and hemp hearts. Bake for about 15 minutes, until light golden brown. Cool on a rack. Makes about 15 small cookies.

Nectarine tartines with chilli and mint

What’s that saying about necessity being the mother of invention? I apply it to what we eat on a daily basis – I am the self-appointed queen of resourceful cooking. I think I learnt this from my mother, growing up on a farm where you didn’t nip to the shops if you ran out of something, but didn’t get good at it until I was a student with a Mother Hubbard-style pantry. Now it’s such a habit I do it without even thinking, like weaving between two languages without having to translate them in my head.

Sometimes though, the cupboards are full enough that this ‘invention’ is easy. The day after making and photographing the recipes for this week’s Eat Well spread on stonefruit, I opened the fridge to discover lots of good things to make breakfast from (being home alone also helps in these situations – good things vanish less quickly and you can eat whatever you like). This simple tartine (an open sandwich – tartiner means ‘to spread’ in French) was the result.

Nectarine tartines with chilli and mint

I’m not sure this is a recipe, exactly, but a set of loose instructions. You could vegan-ise it by using cashew cream cheese, or use peaches and basil instead of nectarines and mint. Or you could go down a completely different route and use plums and dark chocolate, as in this Black Forest sandwich. The options are limited only by your fridge…

  • 2 slices sourdough or other good bread
  • 3-4 Tbsp cream cheese
  • 1 ripe nectarine, thinly sliced
  • 1/4 fresh red chilli, thinly sliced
  • A small handful of mint leaves, roughly torn
  • Extra virgin olive oil, for drizzling

Toast the bread, then spread generously with cream cheese. Top with nectarine slices, then scatter over the chilli and mint leaves. Drizzle over a little olive oil. Eat immediately. Serves 1-2.

Anglo-French rocky road

For reasons too complicated to explain in detail here, I recently found myself teaching four groups of school children how to make rocky road. In French. Yes, I know. I’m not sure how I get myself into these situations but once the gate clanged shut, there was no getting out. (Literally – French primary schools are like fortresses.)

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I’d been in similarily challenging teaching environments before (though I wasn’t sure this French primary school would enjoy being compared with a medium-security New Zealand prison, so I kept that to myself). Luckily, I also had help: an ex-nurse and a former army officer whose CVs were packed with far more useful and impressive feats than mine.

Image shows a bowl of rocky road mixture (marshmallows, chocolate, crushed biscuits) being stirred by five children (only their hands are visible)

I don’t want to go telling tales out of school, but trust me when I say that all three of us needed to be on our A-game. Fortunately, French school kids are used to being told off. Unfortunately, they’re like all other children (and adults) in the presence of chocolate. Suffice to say, it was an exhausting morning, much mitigated by a refreshing glass of cider at 11.30am in the staffroom afterwards. 

Should you wish to recreate this experience yourself during the school holidays, invite 10-15 children to come and make the following recipe with you. Make sure you’re in a classroom without aircon, preferably a few days before a record-breaking heatwave. For best results, have very rudimentary cooking equipment, at least two children who will be fighting at any one time, and eyes in the back of your head to stop them running with scissors and licking the bowl before you’ve finished mixing. Bon courage et bonne chance!

Two children stir a bowl of melted chocolate, condensed milk and melted butter. Only their hands are visible.

Rocky road

You can substitute other dried fruit or nuts for the cranberries and peanuts if you like.

100g butter
400g chocolate
1 x tin sweetened condensed milk
200g plain sweet biscuits
200g marshmallows
150g dried cranberries
150g roasted peanuts

Line a tin or plastic container (measuring about 20x25cm) with plastic wrap or baking paper.
Put the butter, chocolate and sweetened condensed milk in a large pot. Set it over low heat and stir until melted. Remove from the heat and leave to cool.
Put the biscuits in a freezer bag and crush them gently until they are crumbs. It’s good to leave some bigger pieces to make the rocky road crunchier.
Using scissors, cut the marshmallows in half or into thirds if they are large.
Put the crushed biscuits, marshmallows, cranberries and peanuts into the melted chocolate mixture. Stir well.
Pour into the prepared tin and smooth the top. Leave to set in the fridge for 1 hour. Cut into pieces and store in the fridge.

A boy licks biscuit mixture off a spoon.

‘Chemin Rocailleux’

Vous pouvez remplacer les cachuetes et les canneberges sechees avec des autres noix ou fruits secs.

100g beurre demi-sel
400g chocolat
1 x boite lait concentré sucré
200g biscuits du thé
200g guimauvres
150g canneberges séchées
150g arachides salées

Tapisser un moule ou un Tupperware de 20x25cm avec du film étirable ou du papier sulfurisé. Deposer le beurre, chocolat et lait concentré sucré dans un pot. Chauffer doucement pour les fondre, en agitant souvent. Laisser refroider 10 minutes.
Mettre les biscuits du thé dans un sac de congelation. Utiliser un rouler ou vos mains pour les éraser.
Couper les guimauvres en petit pièces avec les ciseaux.
Ajouter les biscuits écrasés, les guimauvres coupés, les canneberges séchées es et les arachides au chocolat. Melanger bien.
Verser dans le moule. Placer au frigo pendant 1-2 heures. Couper en petits pieces et garder au frigo. Bon appétit!

Need more school holiday baking ideas? Check out these ones.

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.