A Cider for Summer: Watermelon Hard Cider

It's been over a year since I last posted a recipe and nearly a year since I last posted anything, so it seemed only fitting to spend one of my first free days since turning in the manuscript for the beer book sharing a new recipe. I say "one of my first" free days because the very first free days were spent sleeping absurdly late on weekends, gorging on episodes of Supernatural, and spending many glorious hours doing nothing at all. It was divine.

Yes, the manuscript is done, the edits are even (mostly) done, the photo shoot is done (I plan on sharing some photos of that soon), and life seems to be stumbling its way back to normalcy. Let this be a lesson to you (i.e., me), working full time and writing a cookbook that involves long, tricky, fermenty projects is really exhausting. I have promised all those near and dear to me that I will not take on any new big projects like that for quite some time.

I posted a photo over on Instagram a few weeks ago of some Watermelon Hard Cider I'd made, and was both delighted and slightly surprised to get several requests for the recipe. Delighted because I actually wrote down the recipe and am happy to share it, and surprised because, frankly, I wasn't sure how many people apart from myself would think that watermelon cider sounded good!

This was actually a random cider that I made over a year ago with a huge-ass watermelon that a friend gave us from their garden. It was an experiment, and I was keeping my expectations low. Watermelon is a funny fruit to brew with; it's mostly water, after all, and that can mean a watery-tasting brew. But hey, there was a hulking watermelon on my counter and it was going to be impossible to eat it all, so why not?

I cracked open a bottle about three months after brewing, and thought it tasted...ok. Not bad. But not particularly watermelon-y. So-so. I left the rest of the batch in the cupboard and forgot about it for a while. Another few months past and I gave it another try - bingo! Apparently this one just needed a little extra time to age.

In the end, this has a lightly sweet watermelon-like flavor with a nice crispness. It's a bit like biting slightly too close to the watermelon rind. It's super refreshing on a hot day, so I suggest making a batch now and then letting the bottles sit in your cupboard until next summer.

Oh, P.S. Use only the freshest, juiciest, pinkest watermelon you can find for this brew. Subpar sad watermelons will not do. Use both the fruit and the rinds in the primary fermentation. A lot of the pink color and watermelon flavor is in the fruit sediment, so don't be too finicky about leaving behind the sediment when you transfer from vessel to vessel. I ended up with a teaspoon or so of pink watermelon sediment in my bottles - it's fun to pour this light, straw-colored cider into the glass only to watch it turn bright pink at the end.

Watermelon Hard Cider

Makes 1 gallon (9 to 10 bottles)

Note: All brewing-specific ingredients are available at homebrewing supply stores or online at MoreBeer.com.

Target Original/Final Gravity: 1.050/1.005

Target Final ABV: 6%

1 (12-pound) watermelon, very ripe

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 Campden tablet

1 teaspoon yeast nutrient

2 teaspoons acid blend

1/2 teaspoon pectic enzyme

1/2 packet dry ale yeast, or any equivalent yeast

.8 ounce (22 grams) corn sugar dissolved in 1/4 cup boiling water and cooled, for bottling

Sanitize a 2-gallon bucket, its lid, the air lock, and a spoon for stirring.

Cut the watermelon into slices and cut the fruit away from the rinds. Chop the rinds into pieces and put them in the bucket. Remove and discard any watermelon seeds, then puree the fruit in a blender. Transfer the fruit puree to the bucket. You should have a little over a gallon of liquid; add additional water as needed to make slightly over a gallon.

Crush the Campden tablet and stir it into the juice. Snap the lid on he bucket, fill the airlock with water, and attach it to the bucket. Wait 24 hours for the Campden to sterilize the juice.

Once the juice is sterilized, stir in the yeast nutrient, acid blend, pectic enzyme, and 1/2 packet of the yeast with a sanitized spoon. Stir vigorously to distribute the yeast and aerate the cider. If you like, take a hydrometer reading to determine original gravity (though it's a bit tricky to get an accurate read on this one since there's so much sediment). Snap the lid back on and reattach the air lock. You should see active fermentation as evidenced by bubbles in the air lock within 48 hours.

Let the cider ferment undisturbed for at least 1 week or up to 4 weeks until fermentation has slowed and the sediment created during brewing has had a chance to settle. At this point, the cider is ready to be transferred off the sediment and into a smaller 1-gallon jug for the longer secondary fermentation.

Sanitize a 1-gallon jug, its stopper, a racking cane, its tip, a siphon hose, and a hose clamp. Siphon all of the cider into the jug. Tilt the bucket toward the end to siphon all of the liquid. Keep transferring even when you start to transfer sediment, but stop when you see the liquid in the hose become opaque (Bottom line: Don't worry about transferring/not transferring a lot of sediment at this point. Just use your best judgement). Seal the jug with its stopper and insert the air lock. Let it sit somewhere cool and dark for another 2 weeks or up to 3 months.

To bottle the cider, sanitize a stockpot, a hydrometer, ten 12-ounce beer bottles or five 22-ounce beer bottles, their caps, the siphon hose, the racking cane, its cap, a measuring cup, and the bottle filler. Siphon 1/2 cup of cider to the hydrometer and use to determine final gravity. Drink the cider or pour it back into the jug once used.

Pour the corn sugar solution into the stockpot. Siphon the cider into the stockpot to mix with the corn sugar solution, splashing as little as possible. Siphon the cider into bottles, cap, and label.

Let the bottles sit at room temperature out of direct sunlight for at least 1 month or store for up to 2 years; I find that this one is best about 6 months after brewing. Refrigerate before serving. The cider itself is a light straw color; the pink comes from watermelon sediment remaining in the cider. Be sure to pour a little of the sediment into each glass to give it a rosy color - trust me, it's tasty! If the cider tasted a little tart, add a tablespoon of simple syrup (equal parts water and sugar, simmered until the sugar is dissolved) to the pint glass before serving.

Summer Homebrew Recipe: Strawberry Kombucha

If I have one regret in writing True Brews, it's that I didn't discover the magical duo of ripe summer strawberries + kombucha until it was too late in the game to add it to the book. This combination is like kismet — it's just meant to be. It's fizzy and tart and sweet and juicy all at the same time. This is drink that (I'm convinced) will make kombucha drinkers out of the kombucha dubious.

Ever since strawberries started showing up again at our markets here in Northern California (the real ones), I've been making batches of strawberry kombucha nonstop. It's the perfect thing to do with those few over-ripe or slightly squished strawberries that inevitably come with every pint basket. Kombucha doesn't care if the strawberries aren't the prettiest in the bunch, and once you take a sip, you won't either.

Kombucha and ginger are old bffs, so I throw some into the jar when I have it. The ginger adds a warm, spicy note that, if possible, makes the strawberries shine even more. Try it both ways and see which you like better.

Also, I don't know how the weather is where you are, but my scobys are loving the warm weather — which at least makes one of us. I can see streams of bubbles filtering up through the layers of scoby and the sweet/tart/fruity flavor is spot on. My bottled kombucha is also fizzy to the max. Love.

Strawberry Kombucha
Makes 1 gallon

3 1/2 quarts water
1 cup white granulated sugar
4 bags black tea (or 1 tablespoons loose tea)
4 bags green tea (or 1 tablespoon loose tea)
2 cups starter tea from last batch of kombucha
1 scoby
1 pint strawberries, hulled and roughly chopped (about 2 cups)
2 tablespoons minced ginger (optional)

Bring the water to a boil. Remove from heat and stir in the sugar to dissolve. Drop in the tea and allow it to steep until the water has cooled.

Remove the tea bags or strain out the loose tea. Stir in the starter tea. Pour the mixture into a 1-gallon glass jar and gently place the scoby on top. Cover the mouth of the jar with a few layers of cheesecloth or paper towels secured with a rubber band.

Keep the jar at room temperature, out of direct sunlight, and where it won’t get jostled. Ferment for 7 to 10 days. Check the kombucha and the scoby periodically.

After seven days, begin tasting the kombucha. When it reaches a balance of sweetness and tartness that is pleasant to you, the kombucha is ready to bottle.

With clean hands, gently lift the scoby out of the kombucha and set it on a clean plate. Measure out your starter tea from this batch of kombucha and set it aside for your next.

Combine the fermented kombucha, diced strawberries, and ginger (if using) in a clean 1-gallon jar (or divide among smaller jars). Cover the mouth of the jar with a few layers of cheese cloth or paper towels secured with a rubber band. Keep the jar at room temperature out of direct sunlight for two days. Strain the strawberries and ginger from the kombucha and bottle. Leave about a half inch of head room in the bottles.

Store the bottled kombucha at room-temperature out of direct sunlight and allow 1 to 3 days for the kombucha to carbonate. Refrigerate to stop carbonation and then consume within a month.

Fall Recipe: Apple Cider Kombucha

The time has come for cider. Warm cider on chilly afternoons. Big gulps of cold cider after a long jog through the falling leaves. A splash of cider in a tumbler of bourbon. I don't really need to convince you on this subject, right?

Because I am a) still fiendish for cider right now and b) still loving my homebrewed kombucha like nobody's business, it seemed only natural to make a cider-riffic version of my favorite fizzy drink. I really can't think of a more perfect match than tart kombucha and sweet-sour apples. Throw in a few sticks of cinnamon and a hearty glug of maple syrup, and this is officially something special.

You could definitely make a shortcut version by mixing some cider into a glass of plain kombucha, but I really love using fresh apples. Play around with different varieties — tart and juicy Macintosh apples have been my personal favorite so far. This is also a good way to use up those last few bruised and battered fruits that have been lingering in the back of the fridge for too long. 

And because I know you were wondering: yes, try this with a shot of bourbon. Fall-time whiskey sour, anyone? Yes, please.

• New to Kombucha brewing? Check out this primer: How to Make Kombucha Tea at Home from The Kitchn

• Need a Scoby? You can find them online at Cultures for Health

Apple Cider Kombucha

Makes about a gallon (can be halved, as pictured)

14 cups water

1 cup white granulated sugar

4 bags black tea (or 1 tablespoons loose tea)

4 bags green tea (or 1 tablespoon loose tea)

2 cups starter tea from last batch of kombucha or store-bought (unpasteurized, neutral-flavored) kombucha

1 scoby

2 apples (pick ones that you like to eat)

2 cinnamon sticks

4 whole cloves

4 tablespoons maple syrup or honey

Bring the water to a boil. Remove from the heat and stir in the sugar to dissolve. Drop in the tea and allow it to steep until the water has cooled. Depending on the size of your pot, this will take a few hours. You can speed up the cooling process by placing the pot in an ice bath.

Remove the tea bags or strain out the loose tea. Stir in the starter tea. Pour the mixture into a 1-gallon glass jar and gently place the scoby on top with clean hands. Cover the mouth of the jar with a few layers of cheesecloth or paper towels secured with a rubber band.

Keep the jar at room temperature, out of direct sunlight, and where it won’t get jostled. Ferment for 7 to 10 days, checking the kombucha and the scoby periodically. It’s not unusual for the scoby to float at the top, bottom, or even sideways. A new cream-colored layer of scoby should start forming on the surface of the kombucha within a few days.

After 7 days, begin tasting the kombucha daily by pouring a little out of the jar and into a cup. When it reaches a balance of sweetness and tartness that is pleasant to you, the kombucha is ready to bottle.

With clean hands, gently lift the scoby out of the kombucha and set it on a clean plate. Measure out 2 cups of starter tea from this batch of kombucha and set it aside for your next batch. 

Dice the apples into small bits and add them to a clean 1-gallon jar along with the cinnamon, cloves, and maple syrup (or divide these ingredients evenly between smaller jars if you don't have a second 1-gallon jar). Pour the fermented kombucha over top. Cover the mouth of the jar with several layers of cheesecloth or paper towels secured with a rubber band. Keep the jar at room temperature out of direct sunlight for 2 days.

Strain and discard the apples and spices. Bottle the infused kombucha into two clean 2-liter soda bottles (or several smaller bottles). Leave at least 1 inch of headspace in the bottles.

Store the bottled kombucha at room temperature out of direct sunlight until carbonated, typically 1 to 3 days, depending on the temperature of the room. When the bottles feel rock-solid with very little give, they’re ready. Refrigerate to stop carbonation and then consume within a month.

Prepare your next batch of kombucha right after bottling the previous batch. Combine the reserved starter tea with a fresh batch of sugary tea, and pour it into the cleaned fermentation jar. Slide the scoby on top, cover, and proceed with fermentation.

Find an Excuse, Make This Now: Lemon and Almond Streamliner Cake from Vintage Cakes

It's not that I don't like cake—I'm just very particular about it. But I sensed great things from this Streamliner Cake as soon as I saw it in the pages of Vintage Cakes, a new cookbook by Julie Richardson. I felt sure, given the presence of both buttermilk and almond paste among the ingredients, that this cake would not taste like fluffy styrofoam. And with a lemon custard topping, this cake would not be consigned to the halls of stodgy frosted doom. No, this cake had definite potential.

I measured. I stirred. I worried that my almond paste was too grainy and that my curd had perhaps bubbled for too long. My cake particular-ness means that I don't bake many of them, and this inevitably results in a great deal of fretting when I do. But I forged ahead, smoothed the batter into the pan, and poured a glass of wine while it baked.

I presented the finished cake to my group of work-from-home friends at our weekly work-from-somewhere-else gathering the next day. The lemon custard was so creamy it practically glowed. The almond cake was just the right shade of golden and so fragrant that we had to keep it in the kitchen until snack time. Serving it was a messy affair with many blobs of custard dripped onto plates and licked from fingers, but eventually we all had a slice.

Yes, this cake more than lived up to its potential. I couldn't get over how well the tartness of the lemon custard played off the sweet almond flavor in the cake. It was just so perfect. And the cake itself was the right amount of dense with a moist and tender crumb. It made a fantastic mid-morning snack, not too heavy or too appetite-spoiling. Just right.

I'm a little head over heels for this book by Julie Richardson. It's true, I'm not really a cake person, and yet the recipes in this book make me want to throw birthday parties for all my friends, enter bake sales, and manufacture whatever excuses I can just to bake a cake.

My success with the Streamliner Cake has buoyed me. I'd better bake another one while the cake mojo is still good.

Lemon and Almond Streamliner Cake
From Vintage Cakes by Julie Richardson (available on Amazon for $14)

Bake time: 42-45 minutes
Pan: 9 by 2-inch round cake pan, greased and bottom lined with a parchment paper circle

Custard

Grated zest of 2 lemons

3/4 cup whole milk

1/2 cup (3 1/2 ounces) sugar

4 egg yolks

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 cup lemon juice (from approximately 3 lemons)

1/2 cup (4 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

Cake

1 1/4 cups (5 ounces) sifted cake flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

3/4 cup (6 ounces) almond paste, 
at room temperature

10 tablespoons (5 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2/3 cup (4 2/3 ounces) sugar

3 tablespoons canola oil

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

3 eggs, at room temperature

2/3 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

To make the lemon custard, combine the lemon zest, milk, and 1/4 cup of the sugar in a medium saucepan and heat over medium-low heat until just hot. Meanwhile, in a bowl, thoroughly whisk together the egg yolks, the remaining1/4 cup of sugar, and the salt until well combined, then whisk in the cornstarch, then the lemon juice. Slowly whisk a third of the hot liquid into the yolk mixture. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan with the hot milk and cook over medium-low heat, whisking steadily, until the custard begins to thicken and bubble for 1 minute (you will need to stop whisking for a moment to check if it is bubbling). Strain the custard through a fine mesh sieve into a clean bowl and whisk in the butter until it has melted. Place a piece of plastic wrap directly upon the surface of the custard and place in the refrigerator to cool for about 2 hours. The custard is easiest to work with once it has set.

Center an oven rack and preheat the oven to 350°F.

To make the cake, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl, then whisk the mixture to ensure that the ingredients are well mixed.

Using a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, combine the almond paste, butter, sugar, canola oil, and vanilla on low speed until blended; gradually increase the speed to high and cream until very light and fluffy, 5 to 7 minutes, stopping the mixer frequently to scrape the paddle and the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Blend in the eggs one at a time, adding the next one as soon as the previous one has disappeared into the batter. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the buttermilk in two parts, beginning and ending with the flour. After each addition, mix until just barely blended and stop and scrape the bowl. Stop the mixer before the last of the flour has been incorporated and complete the blending by hand with a rubber spatula to ensure you do not overbeat the batter.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and spread it evenly. Rap the pan firmly on the counter to release any air bubbles. Place the pan in the center of the oven and bake until the cake is a deep golden color and a wooden skewer poked in the middle comes out just barely clean, 42 to 45 minutes. The cake might crack on the surface as it bakes; don’t worry, this simply provides a way for the cake to soak up more of the lemon custard.

Cool the cake in its pan on a wire rack for 30 minutes. Gently invert the cake onto the rack, leaving on the parchment paper until you assemble the cake. Flip the cake right side up and continue to cool the cake on the rack until it reaches room temperature.

To finish the cake, remove the parchment paper and place the cake right side up on a flat plate. Using a metal spatula, spread a thin layer of the lemon custard on the sides of the cake to seal the cake and give it a light shine. Put the rest of the lemon custard on top of the cake, spreading it just barely out to the edge. Use your spatula to make a swirly design in the custard on the top of the cake. Allow the assembled cake (or really, the lemon custard) to set in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Bring the cake to room temperature before serving (this will take about an hour). Any leftover cake keeps in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Recipe reprinted with permission from Vintage Cakes: Timeless Cupcakes, Flips, Rolls, Layer, Angel, Snack, Chiffon and Icebox Cakes for Today’s Sweet Tooth by Julie Richardson, copyright © 2012. Published by Ten Speed Press, a division of Random House, Inc.

This cookbook was given to me by the publisher for review purposes. The opinions expressed in this article are my own.

My Top 8 Most Favorite Beet Recipes

Photo by Emma Christensen for The Kitchn

When the phone rings around 3pm and it's my mom calling from Minnesota, I know she has a dinner emergency. What goes with potatoes besides dill or rosemary because she's all out of that? (Thyme!) Can she freeze pesto with the olive oil in it? (Yes!) Would it be weird to add cherries to this turkey dish? (Erm...Maybe?)

I've come to love these phone calls and the roll reversal they inherently imply. After all, it wasn't that long ago when I was the one setting off smoke alarms and calling her in a panic. It's usually the middle of my work day when she calls, so she knows we can't chit chat and I trust that she knows that I can't chit chat. And we both know that we'll save our chit chatting for the weekend. It all works out just fine.

The other day, Mom called with another question and then happened to mention that she had three bunches of dang beets crowded in her fridge from her last several CSAs and dang if she didn't have a clue what to do with them. I needed to scramble to finish some work, so I promised a list of my favorite beet recipes post-haste.

Life has a way of rolling ever onward and I am only now getting around to sending her that list. My mother has informed me that her beet situation is now reaching critical levels. For her, for you, for all of us suffering from CSA overload, I give you my utmost favoritest beet recipes.

P.S. We've been doing a Family History Week over on The Kitchn and I did a little interview with my mom about her memories of her mother cooking, her favorite foods, and what it was like growing up in a family of six. It was a really sweet to hear her stories. Check it out:

Liver for Dinner & Raspberry Pie: An Interview with My Mother

My Top 8 Most Favorite Beet Recipes


My Kitchn colleagues and I are fanatics for beets, it seems. Over the years, we've amassed enough beet recipes that it could be a category all its own. Those listed here are the ones I cook again and again. All the following recipes come from The Kitchn. 

1. Sauteed Rainbow Chard with Raw Beets and Goat Cheese
2. Beets on Crostini with Goat Cheese
3. Beet and Sweet Potato Stacks
4. Golden Beet and Barley Salad with Rainbow Chard
5. Beet Salad with Romesco Sauce and Spring Greens
6. Roasted Beet Salad with Barley, Feta, and Red Onion
7. Fennel, Beet, and Orange Salad
8. Seared Bitter Greens Salad with Roasted Beets, Spiced Pecans, and Roquefort

And just in case you need it, here's how to roast beets in the oven.

Do you have a favorite recipe for beets?

Summer Recipe: White Peach-Lavender Soda

What does one do when one receives a gift of perfect and oh-so-fragrant lavender from a friend's garden? If one is like me and has just finished writing a book of homebrewing projects and suddenly has free time to play with recipes not going into the book, one naturally thinks about making soda.

Lavender became a bit of a nemesis when writing True Brews. I learned the hard way that one scoop too many can take the lavender flavor from softly enchanting to soapy-tasting catastrophe in less time than it takes to say "Uh oh." I finally nailed the recipe, but it's left me with some rather hard feelings toward lavender.

But contemplating my bounty of lavender last week, I figured that a soda would be safe. Right? It's only a few cups. I can manage that. Maybe this could be a baby step in my Lavender Appreciation Recovery.

The white peaches and white nectarines are phenomenal right now. The farmers markets are flooded with them and I can't help but hold them to my nose and snag samples whenever I can. They are juicy and floral and just a teensy bit tart. I figured a few of these fruits would be the perfect companion to my lavender.

And they were. This soda... You guy, this soda... It's kind of awesome. Way better than I expected. It tastes sweet and peachy-keen and has just the barest breath of lavender to make things interesting. It's fresh and fizzy, especially on the hot afternoons we've been having the past week. Also, just FYI, it's extremely good with a shot of gin.

I didn't intend or expect that lovely pink color either. I envisioned something pale and luminous. Instead I got lazy and left the skins on the peaches, which proceeded to dye the juice this incredible shade of pink. I definitely recommend being lazy in this instance.

White Peach-Lavender Soda
Makes about 4 to 6 servings (enough to fill a recycled 1-liter soda bottle)

1 cup water, plus more to fill the bottle
3/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lavender flowers (1 tablespoon dried lavender flowers)
1 pound very ripe white peaches
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Pinch salt
1/4 teaspoon champagne yeast or baker's yeast

Need: one clean 1-liter plastic soda bottle with screw-on cap

Bring the water to a boil in a small saucepan on the stovetop or in the microwave. Remove from heat and add the sugar and lavender flowers. Stir to dissolve to sugar. Let stand for 20 minutes to infuse the sugar water with lavender.

Wash and roughly chop the peaches. It is not necessary to peel them. Strain the lavender flowers and pour the infused sugar water over the fruit. Add the lemon juice and salt, and stir to combine. Let this stand for 10 minutes to macerate the fruit.

Working in batches, puree the peaches with the sugar-water in the food processor or blender. Strain the puree into a bowl, collecting as much juice as possible without forcing any solids through the strainer. You can also strain the juice through a flour sack towel or cheesecloth to yield a cleaner soda. You should end up with 1 1/2 to 2 cups concentrated fruit syrup.

At this point, you could stop, refrigerate the syrup, and add it to a glass of sparkling water to taste. To naturally carbonate the soda with yeast (you intrepid brewer you!), proceed onward.

Pour the juice into a clean 1-liter plastic soda bottle using a funnel (see note). Top off the bottle with water, leaving about an inch and a half of head room. Give it a taste and add more lemon juice or sugar if desired. The extra sugar will dissolve on its own.

Add the yeast. Screw on the cap and shake the bottle to dissolve and distribute the yeast. Let the bottle sit at room temperature out of direct sunlight for 12 to 48 hours. Exact fermentation time will depend on the temperature in the room. Check the bottle periodically; when it feels rock-solid with very little give, it's ready.

Refrigerate overnight or for up to 2 weeks. Open very slowly over a sink to release the pressure gradually and avoid bubble-ups.

Notes: 

• Feel free to substitute white nectarines, yellow peaches, or yellow nectarines for the fruit in this recipe. I'm also feeling tempted to try plums. The color and flavor will be slightly different, but most definitely still very tasty.

• For a stronger lavender flavor, infuse the sugar water for a longer period of time. Taste periodically and strain the sugar water when it tastes good to you. Since using more lavender can quickly make foods taste soapy, this is a safer way of amping up the flavor.

• I recommend using champagne yeast over baker's yeast whenever possible. It has a crisp and clean flavor that lets the fruit shine through, whereas baker's yeast tends to make sodas taste yeasty. Not a terrible thing, and fine in a soda-craving pinch, but get some champagne yeast if you can. It's sold at any homebrew supply store and online at places like Northern Brewer.

• The fruit mash left after straining makes a very good afternoon snack with yogurt.

• Sodas can also be bottled in glass or swing-top bottles, but it’s more difficult to tell when the sodas have fully carbonated. To do this safely, with every batch you bottle also fill one small plastic soda bottle to use as an indicator for when the sodas have finished carbonating. Refrigerate all of the bottles as soon as the plastic bottle is carbonated; never leave the glass bottles at room temperature once carbonated.

A Very Good Bowl of Chili

I must apologize. This post...well, it's not for you, really. It's for me. Here's the thing: every time I go to make chili, I think back to a particular pot of chili I made roughly five years ago for a small gathering of friends. This chili was good. Very good, even.

I remember that the beans were just the right shade of soft while the tomatoes were silky and sweet. The ground beef had cooked for exactly the right amount of time so that it was tender and made the whole dish taste rich. The cumin and chili powder and oregano were playing nicely together. The stars were aligned over this pot of chili is basically what I'm saying.

After the dinner party, one of my friends asked for the recipe. I distinctly remember scribbling it down for her and then making a second copy for myself. Because, hey, this was an excellent pot of chili we're talking about here.

Now, every time I want to make chili, I search for this paper. I look in all my usual hiding spots, ignoring the fact that these are the same places that I checked the last time I wanted to make chili. Because maybe, this time, I will find it. I do not find it. I check my old blog. Then I wonder if maybe I shared the recipe over on The Kitchn. I find this one, but just as I'm getting excited, I remember that this recipe is actually a slight variation on The Very Good Chili, which I varied for reasons unknown.

 Bottom line: no recipe. It's lost, gone, nowhere to be found. Ultimately, I make up the recipe every time. And every time I think, "Wow, this really IS a very good bowl of chili! I should write the recipe down." Then other things happen and I don't do it. Repeat times infinity.

This ends here, friends. For you, for me, for all of us, here is my recipe for a Very Good Chili.

A Very Good Chili
Makes enough for several adults and plenty of leftovers. It also freezes beautifully.

4 slices of bacon, diced
2 pounds ground beef - however lean or fatty you like it
1 large onion, diced
1 green pepper, diced
1 12-oz jar roasted red peppers, drained and diced (or if you're feeling industrious, two roasted red peppers.)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon oregano
1 cup amber beer or red wine
3 cups chicken stock
1 28-oz can diced tomatoes
3 cups (or 2 cans) black beans
1 cup frozen corn
Extras: hot sauce, shredded cheese, sour cream

Warm a large dutch oven or soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the bacon. Cook until all the fat is rendered and the bacon itself is golden but not yet crispy. Pull out the bacon bits with a slotted spoon and set them aside. Drain off all but a teaspoon or two of the bacon fat.

Cook the ground beef in the bacon fat with a teaspoon of salt, breaking it up into bite-sized morsels as you go. Don't stir it overly much and you'll end up with some nice seared spots on your morsels. When all the beef is uniformly brown and seared, scoop it out and set it aside. Pour off all but a teaspoon or so of the fat. (Alternatively, if you used lean meat, you may need to add a teaspoon of oil back into the pan.)

Cook the onions with a half teaspoon of salt until they are soft and beginning to turn brown. Add the peppers and cook until they have also softened. Clear a little space in the middle of the pan and tip your garlic in. Stir it around for a few seconds until it gets fragrant, then stir the garlic into the other vegetables. Sprinkle the seasonings over top.

By this time, a nice sticky dark film should have formed on the bottom of your pan. The French call this the "fond;" I like to call it "delicious." Pour your beer or wine into the pot and scrape away at this brown layer as the beer simmers and bubbles.

Once you've scraped up as much as you can get and the beer has reduced a bit, add the hamburger back into the pot along with the chicken broth. Bring the soup to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for a good hour or so until the hamburger tastes tender and succulent. Add more salt or other seasonings if you think the chili needs it.

When the meat is ready, stir in the tomatoes (reserved until now because the acid in them can make the meat take longer to become tender), the beans, the corn, and last but not least, the reserved bacon. Simmer a little longer, maybe another 10 minutes.

Give it a taste and add more of anything you think is missing. If the soup tastes a little flat to you, try giving it a squeeze of lime or lemon juice or a shot of cider vinegar to brighten it up. A little Worcestershire or soy sauce can also add depth if you think that is lacking. Trust your taste buds. They won't lead you wrong.