The great want of spring vegetables renders pickles a valuable addition
to the table at the season when potatoes have become unfit and
distasteful. If you have been fortunate in your maple-vinegar, a store
of pickled cucumbers, beans, cabbage, &c. may be made during the latter
part of the summer; but if the vinegar should not be fit at that time,
there are two expedients: one is to make a good brine of boiled salt and
water, into which throw your cucumbers, &c. (the cabbage, by the by, may
be preserved in the root-house or cellar quite good, or buried in pits,
well covered, till you want to make your pickle). Those vegetables, kept
in brine, must be covered close, and when you wish to pickle them,
remove the top layer, which are not so good; and having boiled the
vinegar with spices let it stand till it is cold. The cucumbers should
previously have been well washed, and soaked in two or three fresh
waters, and drained; then put in a jar, and the cold vinegar poured over
them. The advantage of this is obvious; you can pickle at any season.
Another plan, and I have heard it much commended, is putting the
cucumbers into a mixture of whiskey* and water, which in time turns to a
fine vinegar, and preserves the colour and crispness of the vegetable;
while the vinegar is apt to make them soft, especially if poured on
boiling hot, as is the usual practice.
[* In the "Backwoodsman," this whiskey-receipt is mentioned as an
abominable compound: perhaps the witty author had tasted the pickles in
an improper state of progression. He gives a lamentable picture of
American cookery, but declares the badness arises from want of proper
receipts. These yeast-receipts will be extremely useful in England; as
the want of fresh yeast is often severely felt in country districts.]