Sandor Katz: Reclaiming Our Food Sovereignty Through Fermentation | Live Stream Registration

In truth, alongside pickles, fermented foods such as bread, cheese, yoghurt, sour cream, Italian salami, vinegar, soy sauce, chocolate, coffee, beer, and wine have long formed the backbone of our household’s diet—as they do in many others—though we never gave them much thought or serious attention.

It was through a series of life experiences that I encountered various nutritional philosophies and dietary practices. Only then did I truly grasp how the live cultures in fermented foods aid digestion, and personally experience their role in restoring the body’s health.

I also recall standing in the garden, surrounded by mounds of cabbage and radishes, yet all I could see were pickles beckoning to me with irresistible allure. That enduring bond between myself and pickles has lasted to this day.

In our time, most of us have been taught from childhood that bacteria are dangerous enemies and the refrigerator a household necessity. Unsurprisingly, the notion of leaving food unrefrigerated to encourage bacterial growth sparks fears of danger, illness, or even death. People often ask:

“How can I be sure the bacteria that grow are the good kind I’m after?”

Most people assume that to safely transform food through microbes, you need extensive knowledge and the ability to control the process; therefore, it’s best left to the experts.

In truth, most foods have been fermenting in one form or another since the dawn of human history, yet this ancient practice has now been outsourced to factory production lines. Fermentation is all but vanishing from our home kitchens.

Over millennia, different cultures developed their own fermentation techniques (learning through observing nature and trial and error to manipulate conditions). Today, these traditions are fading into obscurity, on the verge of disappearing entirely.

I have been immersed in the world of fermentation for nearly twenty years, despite having no background in microbiology or food science. I am simply a fermentation enthusiast—a food lover yearning to reconnect with the earth, utterly captivated by the craft, and driven by a love of good flavour, a desire to minimise waste, and a commitment to health.

Since falling for fermentation, I have conducted countless experiments, spoken with numerous people about the subject, and read widely on the topic. The more I experiment and learn, the more I realise how far I am from being an “expert.”

Those who grew up surrounded by traditional fermented foods undoubtedly possess a deeper, more intuitive knowledge than I do. Then there are the professional fermenters who have become specialised manufacturers, developing sophisticated techniques to ensure consistent quality in production and sales.

There are countless others far more versed than I am in brewing beer, crafting cheese, baking bread, curing salami, or brewing sake. And the microbiologists and scientists who study genetics, metabolism, kinetics, community dynamics, or other fermentation mechanisms know far more about the science of it than I could ever hope to.

My knowledge of fermentation is hardly encyclopaedic. Across the five continents, people ferment the foods local to their diets, and the endless variations are simply too vast for any one person to master. I have, however, been fortunate enough to hear many wonderful stories and to taste countless homemade and artisan fermented foods.

Click the image to read stories about people and fermentation ▼

This section will be updated regularly

This is a compendium of fermentation wisdom, drawing on the perspectives of many. Although I have strived to make the content as comprehensive as possible, it still falls far short of the breadth of an encyclopaedia. Nevertheless, my original resolve in writing this book remains unchanged: I hope to help readers distinguish between different types of fermentation, and to convey how to explore the craft, make the most of available tools, and bring fermentation into everyday life.

These co-evolutionary relationships, long embedded within cultures, can transcend boundaries, spread, and adapt, rather than fading away.

As I explore and reflect on fermentation, one word continually surfaces in my mind: “culture”.

Fermentation is intimately intertwined with culture in many ways, resonating with the various layers of meaning embedded within the term (from its literal and microbiological definitions to its broader connotations). We refer to the starters added to dairy to make yoghurt, or those used to initiate fermentation, as cultures.

Meanwhile, culture binds together the full spectrum of language, music, art, literature, scientific knowledge, belief systems, and agricultural and culinary practices that humanity strives to pass down through the generations (fermentation occupies a central position in both agriculture and cooking).

Indeed, the word “culture” derives from the Latin *cultura*, meaning “cultivation”. Cultivating the land, along with the plants, animals, fungi and bacteria that thrive upon it, is the very essence of culture. Reclaiming our food and the means to participate in its cultivation is the way to revive culture. Taking action to break free from the confined, dependent, and patronised role of the consumer, and returning to our place as producers and creators, is how we regain our dignity and power.

In reality, this mindset should apply not only to fermentation (even though it represents an unavoidable biological process inherent to food itself), but to all food. Every organism on Earth maintains a close interaction with its environment through food. Yet, living in high-tech societies, humans have largely severed this connection, leading to catastrophic consequences.

Although people in affluent societies today enjoy food choices that past generations could never have dreamed of, and although individual labour can now produce more food than ever before, the large-scale commercial methods and systems that sustain these phenomena are destroying our Earth, ravaging our health, and robbing us of our dignity. Regarding food, the vast majority of the global population relies solely on this fragile, life-sustaining system composed of monoculture farming, synthetic agrochemicals, biotechnology, and transport networks.

If we are to pursue a more harmonious way of life and cultivate greater resilience, we must engage actively. This means we must strive to become aware of the organisms surrounding us and those that comprise our food (namely plants, animals, bacteria and fungi), alongside the resources we rely on—such as water, energy, materials, tools and transport—and forge a genuine connection with them. It also means we must take responsibility for the mess we leave behind.

We can help shape a better world: one with improved and more sustainable food choices, a clearer awareness of resources, and communities rooted in sharing. For culture to remain strong and resilient, skills, information, creativity and values must be allowed to circulate freely within it. Culture must not be relegated to a consumer paradise or a passive spectacle for bystanders. Everyday life continually affords us opportunities to engage and act; we must seize them.

 

III.

Microbial cultures exist only as communities, and human cultures are no different.

Within human culture, food is the chief architect of these communities. We use food to invite people in for a meal, and we use it to bring families together. It not only welcomes newly arrived neighbours and weary travellers, but also hosts cherished old friends. Food can bind an entire village together; after all, collective strength always surpasses solitary effort. Moreover, preparing food often encourages households to specialise, exchanging their finished products upon completion.

Fermented foods (particularly fermented beverages) play a vital role in fostering community cohesion, with an impact that far surpasses that of ordinary food. Not only do numerous festivals, rituals, and celebrations centre around fermented foods such as bread and wine, but these foods are also among the oldest and most vital, adding value and stability to a local community’s key economic foundation: its crops. In any grain-based economy, the brewer and the baker are central figures. Wine transforms perishable grapes into a stable and highly sought-after commodity; the relationship between cheese and milk is much the same.

Reclaiming our food means rebuilding our communities. Through specialised economic cooperation and a shared division of labour, it fosters an understanding of how resources and land can be mutually exchanged. Global food transport consumes vast resources and wreaks environmental havoc. While tasting cuisines from distant lands is an inspiring treat, structuring our daily lives around imported food is not only inappropriate but deeply destructive.

Most globally traded foodstuffs come from vast monoculture farms, which have replaced forests and a diverse array of subsistence crops. When we become wholly dependent on global trade systems, we place ourselves in a position of extreme vulnerability. The entire structure can collapse from a single disruption, whether triggered by natural disasters (floods, earthquakes, typhoons), resource depletion (oil crises), or political instability (war, terrorism, organised crime).

Fermentation can lie at the heart of economic revival. Re-localising food is not merely about revitalising agriculture; it also encompasses reviving the traditional methods people once used to transform and preserve agricultural produce into staple daily foods, such as the fermented goods we know as bread, cheese, and beer.

By taking part in farming and the preparation of other local foods, we create vital resources that help meet our daily needs. By supporting the revival of local food systems, we keep money circulating within our own communities rather than letting it drain away. This capital can then be reinvested locally, supporting production and creativity, and providing people with the incentive to learn essential skills.

At the same time, as fuel use and pollution drop, we gain access to fresher, healthier food. As our communities become better able to provide for themselves, reclaiming our power and dignity in the process, we also lessen our collective dependence on a fragile global trade system.

 

IV.

Cultural revival is inherently tied to economic revival. Wherever I travel, I always make it a point to meet those who have chosen to dedicate themselves to this cultural renaissance. Perhaps the clearest sign of this revival is the growing number of young people choosing to become farmers.

During the latter half of the twentieth century, the tradition of regional food self-sufficiency all but vanished in the United States and many other countries. Today, however, that tradition is experiencing a resurgence. Let us therefore champion it wholeheartedly and become part of the movement.

There are many compelling reasons to believe that productive local food systems outperform globalised food networks. They yield fresher, more nutritious produce while boosting local employment and productivity. Furthermore, by reducing reliance on fuel and large-scale infrastructure, they minimise resource waste and strengthen food security.

We must forge a closer bond with the land through food, and there must be those willing to undertake the heavily labour-intensive work of farming. We need to value and reward such labour, and step forward to take part in it.

I do not wish to give the impression that cultural revival is a novel concept. There have always been those who steadfastly resisted new technologies: farmers who never adopted chemical methods, individuals who continued to use and zealously preserved heirloom seeds passed down through generations, those who consistently chose horses over tractors, and families who have constantly practised fermentation.

There will always be those seeking to reconnect with tradition, or refusing to embrace the so-called ‘conveniences’ of modern culture. Just as culture has continually reinvented itself in unexpected ways, it can also be passed down and sustained, always tracing back to its origins.

Cultural revival certainly does not entail abandoning urban and suburban life to chase after remote rural living. We must create more harmonious ways of living where people and large-scale infrastructure already are—that is, in cities and suburbs. ‘Sustainability’ and ‘resilience’ should not be ideals attainable only in the remote countryside; rather, they must be grounded in the everyday ethics of daily life, enabling anyone, anywhere, to put them into practice.

Nearly twenty years ago, I moved from Manhattan, where I had lived for a while, to a self-sufficient rural community in Tennessee. I am glad I did. Sometimes all you need is a dramatic change. At thirty years old, having just been diagnosed with HIV, I was seeking a complete life transformation. By chance, I found myself at a subsistence farm deep in the woods, home to a collection of eccentric characters.

Personally, I believe that relocating to the countryside is worthwhile and profoundly meaningful, but it does not mean it is superior or more sustainable than urban living. In fact, as most people know, rural life often requires frequent car travel to get around (myself included), whereas the majority of city dwellers do not own a car and rely primarily on public transport.

Cities are where people converge, and countless remarkable stories of creativity and revolution unfold within urban and suburban landscapes. Urban farming and part-time homesteading (urban-homesteading) are flourishing, particularly in cities with large swathes of vacant land. The revival of artisanal fermentation is also largely centred in cities, mainly because regardless of where production takes place, cities hold the key to major market dynamics.

The late great urban planning theorist Jane Jacobs put forward a fascinating argument: that agricultural development radiated outwards from cities, rather than originating in remote rural areas.

In *The Economy of Cities*, Jacobs rejects the prevailing assumption that ‘cities are built upon a rural economic foundation’, a notion she dismissively labels the ‘agrarian dogma’. She argues that the innate creativity of urban life is, in fact, the primary catalyst (and ongoing innovator) driving agricultural advancement:

“The spread of new grains and animals occurs between cities… up until now, the cultivation of plants and the domestication of animals have been tasks carried out solely within cities.”

Her central premise is that people from diverse regions converge at trading hubs. These settlements form a dynamic environment for the chance cross-pollination and selective breeding of seeds, while simultaneously offering greater opportunities for specialisation and the development and dissemination of techniques.

Should Jacobs’s theory prove correct, then fermentation practices undoubtedly took root in urban areas as well. While rural communities are often the custodians of living heritage (such as seeds, cultural traditions, and specialist knowledge), it is largely urban populations who, by generating demand, drive agricultural change in the countryside. This is evident in the establishment of farmers’ markets and the substantial backing provided to Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) initiatives.

Townspeople can tend gardens and practise fermentation just as those in the countryside do. Equally, urban dwellers can tap into the deep currents of creativity and the inevitable cross-pollination that characterises city life, in turn helping to reshape agriculture. This shift can weave together ancient wisdom facing the threat of extinction, just as it can inspire fresh innovation. Regardless, a cultural revival cannot be driven by any single group alone, nor is it solely the preserve of rural communities.

 

V.

Much of the twentieth-century literature on fermentation claimed that production had shifted from small-scale, neighbourhood-based household work to industrial factories. Meanwhile, laboratory-bred ‘improved’ strains, marketed under the banner of ‘enhancing hygiene, safety, nutrition and efficiency’, replaced traditional microbial cultures passed down through generations.

In 1977, Clifford W. Hesseltine and Hua Li Wang of the US Department of Agriculture’s Fermentation Laboratory wrote:

“When we attempted to introduce Western beverages such as beer, cola and other non-alcoholic drinks to the Bantu people, they refused. We therefore began investigating the traditional village method of brewing Bantu beer. Once we understood the local process and had isolated the specific yeasts and bacteria involved, we introduced industrial-scale fermentation techniques alongside modern malt-processing equipment. The Bantu beer produced using these modern systems was quickly embraced by the local population… and, manufactured under hygienic conditions, it offered consistent quality at a very low price.”

In my view, the assumption that hygienic, cheap, and uniformly consistent mass-produced goods are superior to traditional village-made products completely overlooks the vital role hands-on craftsmanship plays in rural culture and economies. Meanwhile, Paul Barker from South Africa wrote:

“Traditional fermentation, along with many other hands-on practices, has been steadily declining within our African cultures. We must document our own traditions before we are wholly consumed by KFC, Coca-Cola and Levi’s jeans.”

The aim of this book is to encourage the revival of fermentation culture in our homes and neighbourhoods, thereby reclaiming our food and its vast web of connections. We should not limit ourselves to fermenting grapes, barley, and soybeans; we ought to ferment acorns, turnips, sorghum, and every scrap of leftover food at our disposal.

While there is much to admire in the globally produced fermented goods that stem from monocultures, championing localism teaches us to make full use of abundant leftovers, such as acorns, and to work with crops that adapt and flourish with minimal human intervention, like the turnips and radishes cultivated on farms in Tennessee.

This book introduces a wide range of fermented foods and how to make them. The first three chapters offer a broad overview, covering the evolution of fermentation, its practical benefits, and core operational concepts. The remaining chapters are largely organised by the type of fermented food (substrate), as well as whether the final product contains alcohol as a primary component. The final chapters provide ideas for those looking to turn their passion for fermentation into a business, and explore its applications beyond food. The book concludes with a manifesto for fermentation revivalists.

Because this book focuses on the process itself, it moves away from conventional recipe formats (with the exception of recipes contributed by others, which I have placed in sidebars). My aim is to convey widely applicable principles rather than simply providing specific recipes. I outline commonly used ratios, a variety of alternative proportions and process parameters, and sometimes even suggestions for flavour pairings. I endeavour to explain what needs to be done at each stage of fermentation, and why.

Fermentation is more adaptable and spontaneous than cooking, because it is a collaborative process between us and other living organisms. Sometimes, understanding the ‘how’ and ‘why’ within this complex relationship matters more than adhering to the precise measurements and ingredients dictated by different recipes and traditions.

I want to help you grasp the ‘how’ and ‘why’ behind fermentation. Once you develop this understanding, you will find that recipes are readily at hand, and you will feel free to exercise your own creativity as you explore.

– Group Reading Plan –

– Reading Club Schedule –

November 2023

– Session 1 / Online –

Wednesday 1 November, 19:00–20:30

Live stream on WeChat Channels

Guest: Sun Shan

– Session 2 / Online –

Wednesday 8 November, 19:00–20:30

Live stream on WeChat Channels

Guests: Xu Xijing, Lin Fengyang

– Session 3 / Online –

Wednesday 15 November, 19:00–20:30

Live stream on WeChat Channels

Guest: Ma Junli

– Session 4 / Online + In-Person 

Saturday 25 November, 15:00–16:30

No. 86 Jianguo Road, Chaoyang District, Beijing

SKP-S 2F SKP RENDEZ-VOUS

Guests: Shuyu, Jing Yan

You can register to watch all sessions via Foodthink’s WeChat Channels

How to Join the Book Club

1.Publisher’s Official Online Store: Click to Purchase the Book

2. For those attending the in-person event on 25 November, please be sure to select “In-Person” on the registration form. Places are limited and will be allocated on a first-come, first-served basis. Click here to register.

3.Watch the Live Stream: If you are unable to join us in person, you are still welcome to follow along and interact with us via WeChat Channels.

With thanks to Lakefront Culture for permission to republish the full foreword.

Dear readers, we have some wonderful news!

Foodthink contributor Wan Qing lives in the same city as Sandor Katz, author of *The Wild Fermentation*. Wan Qing recently reached out to Sandor and even got to taste some of his fermented dishes.

We will shortly be asking Wan Qing to conduct a brief interview with Sandor.

If you have read *The Wild Fermentation* or share a passion for fermented foods, please leave a comment below with the question you would most like to ask Sandor. We will collect and shortlist your questions, have Wan Qing translate them, and ask him to provide the answers.

Poster design: Wan Lin