The Apple Cider Vinegar Diaries: Day 3


I’m chewing over the idea of changing our Title Deed so my house has a name rather than a number. Calling it something like “The House of Fermentation” or “Great Fermentations” or “Tiny Bubbles” or “Yeastation”. This house is breeding fermenting stuff, and if I’m not attentive to this escapade, the bricks and mortar might start fermenting.

Put on your imaginary sniffer and inhale this aromatic mixture:

Sedrick-the-sourdough-starter is fermenting and bubbling, burping and chirping, and generally willing himself to stride across the worktop in the kitchen. He’s bread tomorrow. At the other end of the kitchen, the apples are a bit more sedate but as with all youngsters, the younger one learns from the elder one, and now the apples are sending lacy bubbles through the sugary water. Both have their own distinctive scent — one is tangy and yeasty, and the other is sweet, fresh and for some reason reminds me that the grass needs mowing. Or perhaps it’s a suggestion that I should buy a cow. I often mix those two signals. It has to do with our house being built on an old field where local farmers grazed their dairy cows for centuries. When it rains heavily, the scent of cow urine wafts upward from the soil. Not entirely unpleasant, this is after all Sussex farmland, but it can catch you off-guard if that waft tweaks your nose when you’re standing near another person. The two of you exchange an arched eyebrow of suspicion, and then quickly remember … ah, yes, cow urine.

Small blessing, my kitchen does not smell of cow urine.

So, here’s a photo of itsy-bitsy bubbles crowding around the chunks of apple. Yes, gosh, by all means go ahead and – yaaawn. It is all still a tad boring, I admit. Pity that you can’t smell it. You’d perk right up.

To compensate, here’s a holiday photo as I promised yesterday. And you thought I was joking, huh? This is a photo of a 200-meter (655-foot) long, 400-year-old wooden pedestrian bridge that stretches across the Rhine River from Bad Säckingen, Baden Wurttemberg, Germany, to Switzerland on the opposite end of the bridge. The ancient floor boards are glossy and smooth from centuries of foot traffic crossing between the two countries.


7 Comments Add yours

  1. Yay! There’s lots of life in the Misk kitchen 🙂 It appears that fermentation is contagious via the internet. So pleased Sedrick et al are working for you. And loving the diary.

    Pob lwc


    1. Misk Cooks says:

      Yay indeed! And thank you for the clear instruction and recipe on your blog. It made it all so easy. As for Sedrick, I’ve been changing his diet these few three days, weaning him off rye and going straight organic white strong flour. He’s not as jumpy and hyper on white, although I can still hear him yodelling in the middle of night. I suspect that the dog keeps him awake all night; she likes to play ball and jump – she’s a springer, you know.

      I’m glad that you like the Vinegar Diaries; good fun all round. 😀

  2. I popped over here to check out the fermenation action but got side tracked by that bridge. Oh! How absolutely stunning! Surely just being on a bridge like that would send a person into a flurry of creative writing… poetry, romance, fairytales! The Sydney harbour bridge doesn’t do the same thing…

    1. Misk Cooks says:

      Good morning! 😀
      Actually I found something very dark and sad about that bridge. I envisioned all the people during WWII standing at one end of that bridge, looking down that long covered walkway into the freedom and security of Switzerland, but who were trapped in Germany because the bridge was so heavily guarded at both ends. Switzerland’s neutrality wasn’t an open-door policy by any means. It is a beautiful bridge though, and its structure and fabric are carefully tended. The floor boards really struck me; polished to a high gloss from centuries of shoes scuffing across them.

      But if it’s romance you want, there is a Romeo and Juliet type story from the late 1600s about a young man from Bad Säckingen who loved a girl on the Swiss side of the Rhine. They were forbidden to meet without parental chaperons, so each night the young man would blow his trumpet while standing on the bridge (sound really carries in there!) as his way of saying goodnight to his sweetheart….and she heard his trumpet every night until they were married. Bad Säckingen is also known at the Trumpet Town.

  3. oops, meant fermentation… see told you I got side tracked.

  4. lisbet diemer says:

    I’ll go get those apples off the lawn today, this is a beautiful blog, I can smell it, so mush I just got my sourdough out ready to work. looking forward to enjoy and join in on the apple vinegar story love it when things bobbles away in my kitchen, thank you…

    1. Misk Cooks says:

      Hi Lisbet! I have so many apples on the ground now that I don’t think I can use them all. And the tree branches are still heavy with them! The other day I had to ask the neighbourhood boys not to use my apples for cricket practise. Don’t much appreciate them wasting a food source in that way, not to mention that someone might be injured from a wasp-loaded apple. 😦

      If you start up a batch of apple cider vinegar, I hope that you come back here to give us a link to your blog post or just tell us how it’s progressing. It would be fun to hear about it. 😀

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