Pickled Garlic
Today I laid down a jar of pickled garlics according to the recipe I used for onions. It’ll be ready in two months or so.
The regular reader will notice that I have a great love for pickled foods. Part of it is just the fact that they taste superb: lots of salt and vinegar combine to make a savoury repast. Part of it is the fascination I have with food preservation: it’s so cool to be able to stave off corruption (or take advantage of it, as when making beer, wine or sauerkraut). Man has loved preserved foods for centuries—why should I be any different from my ancestors?
Unfortunately, it appears that pickled, salted and smoked foods cause stomach cancer. But quite honestly, I just don’t care. I’m going to die someday anyway—I might as well enjoy my time here on earth. A life without pickles; a life without bacon; a life without sauerkraut: that wouldn’t be life at all, but a kind of ghastly hollow caricature thereof. It would be an unlife.

