A jar at the back of the pantry has no label. Most of them don’t. This one is walnuts, taken green off a tree at the edge of a lot I check on some years, before the shells had hardened enough to matter.
They went into vinegar with peppercorns and a bay leaf back in June, black almost immediately the way green walnuts do, and then sat through the whole run of summer heat without being touched. Pickled walnuts want months, not weeks.
The jar opened dark and sharp, closer to something aged than something pickled.
Serves 2
a handful of pickled walnuts, halved, plus a little of their brine a wedge of a soft, rindy cheese a small bunch of watercress or arugula olive oil black pepper
Cheese comes out well before it’s needed, long enough to lose its chill completely and go soft at the edges.
A little of the walnut brine is shaken together with more oil until it stops separating.
Watercress goes onto the plate first, the oil and brine poured over and worked through the leaves. Cheese broken over it in rough pieces.
Walnuts scattered over everything last, a little more brine drizzled around the edge of the plate. Pepper cracked over the top. Eaten straight from the plate, cheese and walnut in the same bite where possible.
