Familiar to the Newar culinary traditions, Gundru is a no-salt vegetable ferment long on process, pungent and lip-smacking delicious. In the harsh winters, fermenting Brassica greens is a great way to preserve a harvest; personally, we’re big fanatics about greens around here, be they collard or mustard, which are plentiful at our beloved Egg Store, or kale or chard that come delivered to our doorstep from our CSA.
I’ve participated in my fair share of vegetable ferments in my time, but my skepticism ran higher than usual about the lack of salt, typically a crucial component to pickling in the lacto-bacterial tradition. Additional, the few recipes I’ve spotted in print and on the internet actually require nothing more than the greens, the sun and patience.
Three weeks ago, expecting Colleen to swing by the apartment to jar her first attempt at making kimchi, I decided to make a first attempt of my own when I purchased some turnip greens, spent the afternoon wilting them in the oven, and cleaned out the remains of sauerkraut from a liter-sized jar.
After the leaves wilted, I took the rolling pin to them on a cutting board, and low and behold, the juices started flowing, almost opaque green. I stuffed the sludge tightly into my jar, making sure tamp down the greens such that the juice remained above them. I ended up with a jar full of greens.
One of the major dictators of success while on a veggie pickling adventure is keeping the liquid level higher than the food. Plant matter left to the air basically rots and molds, as I’m sure most of the readers here know intimately. The bacteria that causes these undesirable reactions can be kept at bay provided that the vegetables stay below their juices (or salt water/juices in ‘krauts and kimchi). As far as I know, two techniques for keeping those plants where they belong include: (a) using a clean plate and a heavy object to way vegetables down or (b) “punching” them with your fists daily so they learn their lesson (they’dah stayed there if they knew what was good for ‘um). I’d recommend checking in on any veggie ferment daily, just to make sure the whole venture isn’t going awry.
The most prominent cause of issues that can potentially throw our train off the elevated track, careening us towards multi-floored office buildings and hurtling us down towards the busy street (sometimes I get nervous while riding the L, what can I say) comes from the CO2 being release during fermentation. Don’t be afraid to apply some pressure and release those bubbles from their birthplace.
The recipes that served as my guide recommended that the jar be closed, sealed, and left in the sun for two or three weeks. Frankly, I couldn’t rely on the weather to provide consistent sunlight day in and out, so I left my jar in our trusty oven.
After three weeks, opening the jar jolted my senses: this concoction smells pungent. I use that word in the Chinese description of a taste; it’s not that it smells bad, just really hits your nose as a distinctive aroma, similarly to greens fried in a pan, only more so.
While gundru makes a tasty snack raw in my estimation, the Newar people dry the fermented leaves in the sun to store them for use in the winter. Of course now they apparently have pre-made gundru, but back before mass produce, the fermentation process could facilitate leafy-greens for soup-type dishes. Gundruk Ko Achar, a dish similar to Saag, is one example. I took about three-fourths of the stuff and spread it on pans in the oven at low heat.
I sprinkled fresh-ground white pepper, just for kicks, as I acquired it while on today’s errands.
As the gundru dries out, a whiff of seaweed enters the olfactory picture.
I plan on using the dried leaves as a spice in the many variations on rice and legume soup I make in huge batches to bring to work every week. Despite a lack of salt, it brings a similar flavor to mind when it’s dried. The remaining fourth of gundru will serve as a side for tonight’s dinner. If the dried product turns out to be tasty, I’ll take orders when Ryan and I get Tickles & Pickles, our message parlor/fermented goods store, up and running.
(Note: this commercial concept was developed by my parents in jest, as a fictive proposal combining their sons’ interests…I’m still waiting on the business model folks!)
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