Sauerkraut. I will not eat it. I will not.

As a child, I was never was a picky eater. Never. Except if it involved yellow mustard, root beer, or sauerkraut. Especially if it involved sauerkraut. On the days that the Lyndon Elementary cafeteria ladies served sauerkraut, I would walk the halls holding my nose, or go to Principal Lowe's office complaining of a stomachache and needing to go home. Fortunately, my mom never served sauerkraut. Until the night that she did...

I was six or seven. We sat down for dinner at 5:05, like we did every evening. And there on my paper plate, next to a hotdog, was a small mound of gray, stinky sauerkraut. I don't know if came from  a can, or one of those slimey bags from near the meat counter at the Lyndon Key Market. All I knew is that I was not going to eat it. 

My dad, who was (still is) the sweetest guy, must have had a hard day and decided that this was the night he was going to show me who was the boss. But, here's the thing: he wasn't the boss of me, and I wasn't going to eat it. He quietly said that I would need to sit there until I ate it. I told him, I would rather die. 

The dinner was unpleasant for all. Eventually, my sisters were excused to go play kickball down at The Big Tree. My mom disappeared, leaving only my dad and me, at an impasse. Dad washed the dishes and then swept the floor. I sat there, arms folded, refusing to look at him. How could he be so mean? Didn't he know that I would die if I even tried a bite? 

When it became evident that I was not to be persuaded, Dad saved me – and he saved himself. He went to the kitchen door and whistled for our family dog, Carpie – who came bolting into the kitchen, sniffing the floor for any stray scrapes. Just as Dad turned his back; I scooped up the gross sauerkraut and quickly offered it under the table to the dog. Dad turned back around and came over to give me a hug – so pleased his little girl had eaten her sauerkraut.

_______________
Fast forward 55 years. 

Ed dog-ears a page from the Kentucky Living magazine, published by the electric co-op. It's a recipe for sauerkraut. I don't tell him of my childhood trauma. I study the list of ingredients -- all of which I like.

At the grocery, I pick up a cabbage and some radishes. I have fennel and caraway seeds, an apple and sea salt in my pantry. I make sauerkraut. I wait a week and take a small taste to see if it has fermented. It's sour alright, and bright and crunchy. Say! I like sauerkraut. I do! And I would eat it in in the rain. And in the dark. And on a train. And in a car. And in a tree. It is so good, so good, you see!

Jereme's Basic Kraut

ingredients
1/2 head green or red cabbage
1 firm apple
2-3 small to medium daikon radishes
1-1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1-1/2 tsp caraway seeds
1 to 2 Tbsp sea salt, or any natural salt with no preservatives or anticaking agents.

preparation
Chop everything as finely as possible or run through a food processor. Pack just a bit into a wide-mouth jar, tamping down hard with your hands or spoon to pack tightly. After every inch or so, sprinkle the layer with a little salt. Pack within 2 inches of top.

When finished, place a weight on top of the chopped vegetables – if you're using a wide-mouth jar, fill a smaller jar with water and set on top. Keep the contents submerged in the liquid that exudes from vegetables. Set the jar in the sink for several hours. The liquid will likely overflow the jar.

Set out of direct sunlight, open but covered with a towel to keep fruit flies and other creatures out of it, for one to two weeks, then taste. Allow it to ferment longer if you want a stronger flavor. Once it has reached the taste you like, put a lid on and refrigerate the mixture. Makes 1 quart.

If sealed well, mixture will keep for six months.