the latest from sandor katz!

posted May 1, 2012

It is my great pleasure to announce to you that my new book, The Art of Fermentation, is now available. Books are available for purchase on my website for $30 for the hardcover edition, list price $39.95. Just click here. Or if you have a local bookstore where you shop, please request that they stock the book. Or if you cannot afford to buy your own copy, request that your local library acquire it.

I spent more than two years working on this book, and I am thrilled that I can finally share it. (more…)

fermentation workshops 2011

posted February 10, 2011

From our friend Sandor:

Hello friends,

I’ve been in semi-seclusion trying to get my new book written. It’s another book on fermentation, more in-depth, more ferments, more variations (many contributed by readers of Wild Fermentation and people who have written to me), more exploration of underlying processes, and more troubleshooting. The new book is coming along, but slowly. I’m currently projecting completing the manuscript by September. I’ve been doing lots of experiments. Lately I’ve been malting barley, making sake, hammanatto, and one of my new favorites, smreka, a tonic beverage from Bosnia. Smreka could not be simpler to make: Place about 2 cups (? liter) of juniper berries in a gallon (4 liter) jug, and fill it with water. No sugar or anything else required. Ferment for about a month, stirring or shaking and releasing pressure periodically. Truly delicious. Thanks to Luke Regalbuto and Maggie Levinger of Wild West Ferments for sharing that one with me, and thanks to all of you who shared feedback, ideas, and recipes for the book. I’ll keep you posted. (more…)

i ferment you

posted November 23, 2010

This week in the New Yorker magazine, Burkhard Bilger writes about Sandor Katz and the underground food movement. Bilger talks with Blake Eskin about making sauerkraut at home, the surprising ways in which bacteria are integral to human life, and some of the unusual foods he ate (or refused to eat) during his reporting.

Listen to the mp3 here: right-click to download.

Read  the abstract here, and make your way to the local library to read the article in full. Raw milk is also a topic in the article, for those interested.

greenhorn expeditions: Georgia and East Tennessee

posted March 10, 2008

Tennessee ———–

Sandor Katz is a fermentation fetishist. Sandor is a film advisor and elfin-mentor to the project. He lives in a cob cubby set into a hill in rural Tennessee, on a mountain sanctuary of lovely, lively back to the land freaks–almost all of whom relish, covet and evangelize about his three year old garbanzo miso.


I was lucky enough to visit Sandor at his digs in the forest–to witness the crocks in his cellar, to sidle up to his cold-frames, and drive with him to some area farms and the Georgia Organic Conference.

East TNWe arrived at the conference after a short stop in Chattanooga–a very cool city with vital downtown energy, and a revitalized waterfront with legendary local pizza shop. Almost immediately Sandor introduced me to the Keener Family, tremendous farmers of Katadhin sheep and vegetables at Sequatchie Cove Farm in Sequatchie, Tennessee. Kelsey Keener, having gone to Santa Cruz to attend the AgroEcology program, has returned to Tennessee to start a farm on an island in the Tennessee River.

Williams IslandWe sat next to the boys at dinner, and when they heard I was homeless, they offered to take me back to sleep in the greenhouse at Williams Island Farm. We got there in the dark, yet even still I could see that we were driving into an industrial storage facility with great huge canisters, or I guess they are called tanks — 30 feet tall and shining with corrugation in the lights of the family Volvo. We got out surrounded by gravelly potholes full of the day’s rain, surrounded by 7 foot high razor wire fencing, and a forest of yellow concrete bollards. The boys told me that the only other residents of the island are a couple of cattle ranchers who apply sewage sludge to the land–causing a great stink.

We clamored down the gangway into a misty layer of the aforementioned stink and jumped into an aluminum launch boat. I had my trusty little headlamp out (well prepared for such circumstances, and slightly gleeful) and was zooming my little camcorder to try and film the beaver who was flapping his tail against the water. It took quite a while for the motor to turn over–actually the boys paddled for a while first–but then it sputtered to life and we were off, gliding across the dark river with the half moon behind us and the cliffs up ahead lit up with dormitory windows of Baylor Prep School.

We slept in the greenhouse that the boys made, and the boys drank the Frey wine we had rescued from the dinner tables surrounding us, played their guitars, and discussed the local issues (institutional purchasing, farmers market meetings, well drilling logistics) and Bryan played the guitar. The four of them are terribly earnest, terribly sweet, and super delighted with the misty mornings and fescue grass and solar powered chicken coop. Look out world–they are growing!