Eating is a sensual experience. It is important to be mindful of how food affects all five senses, but with all of the wonderful tastes, smells, presentations and textures that foods have, it's easy to forget their sounds. Depending on the food, the diner and the situation, the often overlooked noises that foods make can be the most meaningful part of eating.
An excellent example of this phenomenon is the crunch of a crisp pickle in spring. The sound of a pickle during this season is more significant than the same sound at any other time of year. The crunch speaks for the season, reflecting on the long winter, rejoicing the arrival of the spring thaw, and anticipating the promising future of summer.
The crunch of a pickle in springtime is, first and foremost, a meditation on the past. Without the preservation techniques of winter, this incredible noise wouldn't be possible. If it weren't for pickling, the vegetable would flaccidly yield to our bite. However, because of the knowledge of pickle preparation that has come from generations past, the crunch of summer survives the long winter. The crunch of the past is a contemplative one, remembering not only the people who have taught our generation how to pickle foods, but also meditating on the winter the pickle survived.
The crunch of the present, on the other hand, is a lighthearted "Yippee!" Just as we celebrate the arrival of spring for its own sake, every bite of pickle is a celebration of the food itself.
The crunch of the future is perhaps the most satisfying crunch of all. The mere fact that the pickle is crisp is a reminder of the firm flesh of the fresh vegetables that will come in the summer. In its crunch, the pickle, which was once a fresh, raw vegetable, begins to show a promise of a raw crispness once again.
Most Americans think of the pickled cucumber when talking about the crunch of a pickle, but why let the crunchy fun stop there?
Fans of Japanese food are familiar with the sweet, crunchy pickles of daikon radish and ginger. Another excellent example of a crisp pickled delight is the sweet, pickled carrot, which State Street's Casa de Lara executes beautifully. The magical crunch of springtime pickles comes in all sorts of shapes, sizes and tastes.
Some pickles, however, do not possess the characteristic crunch of spring. Generally, these foods are not true pickles because they attain their preserved state, not by bathing in acidic brine, but by actually fermenting in a salty solution. Sauerkraut, for example, attains its chewy texture, not by sitting in vinegar, but through bacterial production of lactic acid. Kim chi, a Korean pickle that is revered by some, detested by many and casually accepted by no one, ferments in much the same manner and has a less than spring-like texture.
For folks not feeling particularly springy, there are a few pickles that are even softer than sauerkraut and kim chi: pickled proteins. The most common of these is the pickled egg, a food that is usually prepared by boiling eggs and then soaking them in a solution that contains vinegar, salt and spices. The vinegar penetrates the egg and makes the interior acidic, allowing the eggs to be left on the counter for more than a year without going bad. Pickled eggs can also be made with basic solutions. The Chinese "thousand-year egg," or pidan, a jarringly brown pickled egg, is an example of a pickle prepared in a base. Other pickled proteins include pigs' feet, anchovies and, my personal favorite, herrings!
There is a whole galaxy of pickled foods that range from crunchy cucumber pickles to soft, yielding pickled eggs. Their varying textures produce diverse sounds that may or may not be appropriate depending on the dining situation. Crisp pickles are the perfect spring food because they — like the crunchy sound they emit — are very refreshing.
Spring is a time of refreshment, when periods of brief deliverance from the icy winds of winter make us understand the season we came out of, appreciate the season we are in and look forward to the season to come. The fleeting sunshine of springtime and the loud, snapping sound of biting into a crisp pickle both contain this beautiful trinity of past, present and future.
Jason Engelhart is a junior majoring in economics and history. Does the onset of spring leave you craving all things pickled? Let Jason know. E-mail him at [email protected].
