The following is the introduction to Wild Fermentation: The Flavor, Nutrition, and Craft of Live-Culture Foods by Sandor Katz.

This book is my song of praise and devotion to fermentation. For me, fermentation is a health regimen, a gourmet art, a multicultural adventure, a form of activism, and a spiritual path, all rolled into one. My daily routine is structured by the rhythms of these transformative life processes.

Sometimes I feel like a mad scientist, tending to as many as a dozen different bubbly fermentation experiments at once. Sometimes I feel like a game show host: “Would you like to taste what’s in Crock Number One, or trade it for what lies buried in Crock Number Two?” Sometimes I feel like a Holy Roller evangelist, zealously spreading the word about the glorious healing powers of fermented foods. My friends tease me about my single-mindedness as they sample my fermented goodies. One friend, Nettles, even wrote a song about my obsession:

Come on friends and lend me an ear,
I’ll explain the connection between wine and beer,
And sourdough and yogurt and miso and kraut,
What they have in common is what it’s all about.
Oh the microorganisms, Oh the microorganisms . . .

Fermentation is everywhere, always. It is an everyday miracle, the path of least resistance. Microscopic bacteria and fungi (encompassing yeasts and molds) are in every breath we take and every bite we eat. Try—as many do—to eradicate them with anti-bacterial soaps, anti-fungal creams, and antibiotic drugs, there is no escaping them. They are ubiquitous agents of transformation, feasting upon decaying matter, constantly shifting dynamic life forces from one miraculous and horrible creation to the next.

Microbial cultures are essential to life’s processes, such as digestion and immunity. We humans are in a symbiotic relationship with these single-cell life-forms. Microflora, as they are often called, digest food into nutrients our bodies can absorb, protect us from potentially dangerous organisms, and teach our immune systems how to function. Not only are we dependent upon microorganisms, we are their descendents: According to the fossil record, all forms of life on Earth spring from bacterial origins. Microorganisms are our ancestors and our allies. They keep the soil fertile and comprise an indispensable part of the cycle of life. Without them, there could be no other life.

The do-it-yourself ethic of rural homesteading and the insatiable collective appetite of our community inspired me to learn how to make sauerkraut nearly a decade ago.

Certain microorganisms can manifest extraordinary culinary transformations. Tiny beings, invisible to us, bring us compelling and varied flavors. Fermentation gives us many of our most basic staples, such as bread and cheese, and our most pleasurable treats, including chocolate, coffee, wine, and beer. Cultures around the globe enjoy countless exotic fermented delicacies. The process of fermentation makes food more digestible and nutritious. Live, unpasteurized, fermented foods also carry beneficial bacteria directly into our digestive systems, where they exist symbiotically, breaking down food and aiding digestion.

In this book, I explain simple methods for making a variety of fermented foods and beverages. Over the past decade, I have explored and experimented widely in the realm of fermentation. I want to share what I have learned. I am not really an expert. The experts are likely to find my techniques primitive. They are. Fermentation is easy. Anyone can do it, anywhere, with the most basic tools. Humans have been fermenting longer than we’ve been writing words or cultivating the soil. Fermentation does not require vast expertise or laboratory conditions. You do not need to be a scientist able to distinguish specific microbial agents and their enzymatic transformations, nor a technician maintaining sterile environments and exact temperatures. You can do it in your kitchen.

The focus of this book is the basic processes of transformation, which mostly involve creating conditions in which naturally occurring wild organisms thrive and proliferate. Fermentation can be low-tech. These are ancient rituals that humans have been performing for many generations. They make me feel connected to the magic of the natural world, and to our ancestors, whose clever observations enable us to enjoy the benefits of these transformations.

When I try to conjure the origin of my fascination with this natural phenomenon, it leads me to my taste buds. I have always been crazy about brined sour pickles and sauerkraut. I am a descendent of Jewish immigrants from Poland, Russia, and Lithuania. These foods and their distinctive flavors are part of my cultural heritage. In Yiddish, these sour vegetables are known as zoyers. Sour flavors from fermentation are prominent in the food of Eastern Europe (as in many regions of the world), and carried over into the distinctive culinary identity of New York City, where I grew up. We lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, two blocks from Zabar’s, an icon of New York food, and my family regularly feasted on their zoyers. I recently learned that Lithuanian tradition worships Roguszys, a god of pickled food. Just a few generations out of Eastern Europe, my taste buds still salivate at Roguszys’ temple.

My fermentation adventures have been encouraged and aided by my live-in panel of taste-testers, critics, philosophers, and fellow fermentation enthusiasts. I am part of a community called Short Mountain Sanctuary, a rural homestead of queer folks who call ourselves faeries, nestled in the hills of Tennessee. We generally have twenty or more people in residence, eat meals together, and host twice-weekly potlucks with our extended community of neighbors.

I feel incredibly lucky to live in the woods in such a beautiful place. This land itself nourishes, nurtures, and teaches me. Every day I drink fresh spring water from deep within the earth, and feast upon wild plants, homegrown organic vegetables and fruits, and gourmet concoctions prepared in our communal kitchen with tender loving care. We are homesteaders, far from the infrastructure and service amenities of mainstream American life. No utility poles have come marching through our woods (hallelujah!), so I am typing this into a laptop computer powered by electricity we harness from the Sun.

The do-it-yourself ethic of rural homesteading and the insatiable collective appetite of our community inspired me to learn how to make sauerkraut nearly a decade ago. I found an old crock buried in our barn and harvested cabbage from our garden. I chopped it up, salted it, and waited. That first kraut tasted so alive and powerfully nutritious! Its sharp flavor sent my salivary glands into a frenzy and got me hooked on fermentation. I have made sauerkraut ever since, earning the nickname Sandorkraut, even as my repertoire has expanded. After kraut, I learned how easy it is to make yogurt and cheese with the steady supply of fresh milk from our small herd of goats. Sourdough baking, beer- and wine-making, and miso-making followed. Bubbling crocks have become a permanent feature of our kitchen. Some of these projects are finished overnight, some take years, and others are ongoing, as we feed and stir the crocks and jars, developing a symbiotic rhythm with these tiny fermenting organisms, nurturing them so that they will nourish us.

Nutrition is extremely important to me. I have AIDS and need my body to be as strong and resilient as it can be. Fermented foods make my body feel well-nourished, and I eat them regularly as a health practice. Fermented foods not only nourish, they help protect us from potentially harmful organisms and contribute to immunity. Unfortunately, nothing is a panacea, and fermented foods did not prevent me from developing AIDS. I’ve lived through harrowing downward spirals, but also miraculous recoveries. I feel very lucky to be alive and relatively healthy, awed by my body’s recuperative powers. I take anti-retroviral drugs, but many different factors, including regular consumption of live fermented foods, contribute to my present robust and energetic state, as well as my ability to tolerate drugs notorious for intestinal upset. Tangible health benefits have only encouraged my devotion to fermentation.

A fetish, according to Webster’s, is anything “supposed to possess magical powers” and thereby worthy of “special devotion.” Fermentation is magical and mystical, and I am deeply devoted to it. I have indulged this arcane fetish (and been indulged). This book is the result. Fermentation has been an important journey of discovery for me, and I invite you to join me along this effervescent path, well trodden for thousands of years yet largely forgotten in our time and place, bypassed by the superhighway of industrial food production.

Related Posts:

• Katz Leads the Food Revolution! Or, Homemade Sauerkraut is Suddenly in Vogue
• Springtime Is the Right Time for Dilly Beans
• How to Preserve Food without Losing the Nutrients

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