Kennedy: Vinegar update

On the left is the pineapple vinegar I began last month by steeping pineapple skins in brown sugar. 

On the right is the banana vinegar, made by letting overripe bananas rot and seep.

Both recipes came from Mexican cooking maven Diana Kennedy, both have been decanted and tasted.

Pineapple vinegar. This smells incredible, bright and tangy, like some bionic pineapple just exploded. (Not sure that simile works, but hyperbole is called for.) You open the jar of vinegar and the whole room is perfumed with one of the loveliest scents ever generated in my kitchen. The vinegar is also gorgeous, a cloudy gold nectar. The flavor is sharp, vinegary, very pleasant, if not complex. I would rate this a moderate success.

Banana vinegar. The aroma is so mild I can't really describe it. As you can see, the vinegar is inky, opaque, not all that appealing. I was reluctant to taste this; I shouldn't have been. It is delicious. This is a thicker, more syrupy vinegar than the pineapple; it also tastes more substantial, sweet and rich, distinctly sour but full of honey and caramel flavors, and, of course, banana. It's like balsamic, but maybe even better.

 

No one could be more shocked than I that this experiment actually worked. Thank-you, Diana Kennedy. Both vinegars need to sit for a while more, but given my exceedingly low expectations, I am exceedingly happy with the results.

Kennedy: Bad, vinegar, bad

I will not let this photo linger long at the top of the blog.

You know how when you have some overripe tomatoes or peaches and fruit flies suddenly appear, then when you get rid of the offending produce they just as suddenly vanish? 

It does not work like that with vinegar flies. The hideous, rotting, sea-slug bananas have exuded much charcoal-colored fluid that smells sour and seems to have a scummy vinegar mother floating on top. This is exciting. They have also attracted hordes of tiny flies. This is embarrassing. 

We had company last night and took the banana vinegar-in-progress and its cloud of flies outdoors. But an hour later we were sitting there in the living room conversing and all I could see were the several dozen insects helicoptering over the coffee table. I felt like I was entertaining in a barnyard. All I could do was apologize and take a big swallow of wine.

Fortunately, they're tiny, feathery flies, not like the big, crunchy ones infesting Colin Beavan's apartment in No Impact Man. Owen and I saw this new documentary yesterday and it gave us something to talk about besides poultry. In case you missed the publicity blizzard, it's about a New York City family that decides to live sustainably for a year, which means no elevators, electricity, toilet paper, shopping, non-local food, etc. It's an excellent film for kids, as it forces them ponder how much they'd be willing to give up to save the planet. It's a riveting, irritating, inspiring movie for adults. Dana Stevens' funny and sharp review in Slate nails it.

Anyway, I am not giving up on the vinegar, since it seems to be working. I just think Diana Kennedy might have offered some more generous warnings about what to expect. She mentions the flies, but does not describe the extent of the problem. She's a withholder, that Mrs. Kennedy.

We are leaving for Morgan Hill, Owen and I, and when we return will have a frizzle chicken. I hope we do not also have rabbits, quail, and a pig.

Kennedy: There may be maggots

Author: Diana Kennedy

Book: From My Mexican Kitchen

Recipes: banana vinegar, pineapple vinegar 

I've always wanted to make vinegar, but the recipes have made it look harder than I was up for, requiring trips to a winemaking shop, mothers, jugs, airlocks, crocks.

Diana Kennedy, however, offers several recipes for vinegar that involve no special materials. They also look like recipes written by an insane person, but I have now started both. 

Banana vinegar. You slit the skins of overripe bananas, put them in a colander over a bowl, drape with cheesecloth, leave in a "very warm" place until the fruit emits all its juices. "Turn the mass over from time to time and gently press down to extract the liquid," Kennedy writes. "Lots of little flies will swarm around because of fermentation." Within several weeks there will be a cloudy fluid that you mix with crushed piloncillo (Mexican brown sugar) and continue to ferment. Kennedy insists it is delicious. 

Pineapple vinegar. This involves placing the peelings of a pineapple in a jar with water and pounded piloncillo. Macerate. This seems more reasonable than the banana vinegar, until: "If things don't go according to order, small white maggots will float on the top (they may anyway.) Strain the liquid, and if it doesn't become acidic within a month, throw it away and start again."

Rick Bayless would never write recipes like these, and despite their obvious grotesqueness and the fact that I doubt they will work, I love these recipes. I hope they work. I can always bake banana bread, but a way to make use of pineapple peel is on a par with watermelon rind pickle.