Sauerkraut...new beginnings

 I started my first batch of sauerkraut...ever.  The last time I remember taking part in the process, I was about eight years old. I was sitting under the legs of the adults while they cut the cabbage on the "kraut cutter".  It was build to fit between our kitchen sink and the adjacent cabinet.  My younger sister, Lisa, and I were in charge of picking up the cabbage that didn't land in the crock and adding it to the rest.  The only other person that came down by us, was our mom.  She would bend down to sprinkle in a layer of salt every so often between the layers of cabbage.  I don't have a kraut cutter, or a mandolin (the miniature version of our kraut cutter, or a large enough food processor.  I do have cutting boards and a large, sharp knife.  Last Friday morning I worked my way through six heads of cabbage one eighth of an inch at a time.  I'm sure that my great grandmother did it this way, so why couldn't I?!

In true style for everything I do, I read up on it first.  The Pickled Pantry by Andrea Chesman was my first encouragement to try something I had very limited experience with.  I consulted the Ball Canning and Freezing handbook.  I had the University of Wisconsin Extension handbook that I picked up at State Fair YEARS ago.  They have the same publication on line in pdf format.  Same words, different format.  I talked with friends and family on-line, at work, over the phone, and even strangers who wanted to talk canning.  The one thing I couldn't do, which would have made me much more at ease, was talk to my mom.  She's been gone for 18 months and there are still times I want to pick up the phone to ask her a question.  I wanted to pick up the phone several times on Friday, but I just sent thoughts heavenward in hopes that some divine inspiration would come seeping downward to get me through.  
I improvised.  I didn't have the cutter, the stomper, or the crock.  I made do with a knife, a wine bottle, and a re-purposed pickle pail (this is food grade plastic, laundry detergent pails are not).  With a bit of advise from my friend's mother (the cabbage from our drought summer was not going to be moist enough), I was able to decide to make up a brine one and one half tablespoons of salt per quart of water to add to the pail.  This advise was my sanity saver.  I mixed my three tablespoons of pickling salt (don't used iodized) to the five pounds of shredded cabbage.  The directions said to let is wilt for five minutes.  I would cut the next five pounds while the first sat wilting.  Layer by layer I added it to the pail while pounding it down with my flat bottomed wine bottle.  It was juicing but not enough to cover the cabbage no matter how much I pounded it down.  I would add some cool brine a little at a time until it came to the surface.  

 Layer by layer, batch after batch.  Cut, salt, wait, pound.  In the end six head of cabbage, which were average size by farm market standards, filled the pail just over half.  My arms were tired, my hands were cramped.  Tasting bits of salted cabbage took me back to the linoleum floor under the cutting board.  I missed my mom more than I have in many months.  My full canning shelf remind me of the hours she put into preserving food for our family.  Hers was at least 3 times the size of my own.
I made more brine and let it cool as I finished up my cabbage lasagna.  The higher the layers came, the easier it got to hold on to the bottle to pound.  I remember Dad standing over the kraut cutter moving the cabbage halves back and forth over the triple blades.  He cut himself every year. In my memory he did.  I will probably be corrected by my older sisters, all five of them.  Dad also did most of the stomping.  We all took a turn, but it was Dad's arms that truly brought out the juice from the cabbage.  Mom was a strong woman in her own right as well.

I had made another gallon of brine which went in to a two gallon Ziploc bag.  After putting a plate on top of my sufficiently salted and liquidated cabbage, I laid the partially filled bag on top of the plate.  This sealed around the edges of the pail to keep the air out of the briny mix as much as possible.  I believe this is working well, as today is the first day I felt the need to skim the scum from the top of the pail.  Bubbles are coming up from below when I push down on the plate, so fermentation is taking place.  As we like to say in our household...it is processing nicely.

I also weighed down the plate with a half gallon Ball jar with more brine in it.  I could have just used water, but if I need more brine, it will be at the ready.  Some liquid has evaporated as it came over the top of the bag.  I have not added more since starting the process.
Most books recommend keeping the crock in an area 68 to 72 degrees during fermentation.  This will keep the fermentation going at a steady pace.  Too warm and it happens to quickly and may spoil.  Too cool and the process takes longer, which means you have to baby sit the kraut with daily visits for skimming.  I also placed the pail on one of my multi-use boot trays.  If the kraut were to be higher in the pail this would be more necessary for possible run over.  I would rather be safe than sorry when it comes to our old, hardwood floors.
I will update as needed so I can keep track of the process for future reference.  In the meantime, we're processing nicely.