My first copy of Wild Fermentation, by author and fermentation extraordinaire Sandor Katz, was purchased after a friend had spoken about it as if it were a sacred text. Indeed, mine quickly got doused by brine as I put up beans and kraut, or splashed with dollops yogurt and other experimentations like honey wine. Now, Katz has released his most comprehensive fermentation tome to date, The Art of Fermentation. All of the traditional ferments, including vegetables, meat and dairy, are included. But also, Katz digs in with ideas from around the world. Fermented acorns? check. Forget Kombucha, have you tried Mauby? Or growing your own mold culture for tempeh? Its all there.

I got the privilege of learning more about the book and Katz’ perspective on fermentation as a radical practice in this recent interview.

What first motivated you to start fermenting, and why do you think it has so captured your imagination?

Although I grew up loving the flavor of fermented sour pickles, and came to appreciate the digestive benefits of live-culture ferments, it was only after I got involved in keeping a garden that I started fermenting anything myself. I was driven by a practical desire to use and preserve the harvest. My first experiments with cheese and yogurt were similarly motivated by a desire to make use of our periodic overabundance of milk from our goats. But as my fermentation explorations continued, practical motivations started to be eclipsed by the magic of it. I’d mix flour and water together and delight in the anticipation and gradual arrival of invisible friends bubbling away. I became entranced by the power of these invisible life forces. I’m not sure I can explain why, but they became very important to me, and I continue to feel very devoted to them.

One of the striking features of the recession/depression that we have been experiencing is that it was precipitated by a crisis in the value of abstractions, but really it did not shift productive capacity in the slightest. The local food revival–meaning not only fermentation, but also agriculture, as well as other means of transforming the products of agriculture into the foods people love to eat–creates real value, and can channel people’s energies into productive activities than can feed and nourish people.

I’m certainly not an economist, but participation in the local food revival is a form of economic stimulus. When you buy a loaf of bread baked by a local baker with local grain milled locally, you not only get better, fresher, more nutritious bread with a smaller environmental footprint, but you also help support of web of economic relationships, and promote the local recirculation of the dollars you spent. Compare that with the economic relationship you support when you buy a loaf of bread at the supermarket, made by a multi-national corporation, which supports a very different web of relationships, including shareholders, long-haul truckers, oil drillers and refiners, plastic packaging, monoculture grain growers, etc. Participation in local food systems is not only healthier and better for the environment: it’s economically significant. Reviving baking, brewing, kraut-making, salami-making, yogurt-making, etc. as local activities creates productive employment as well as more secure, fresher, more nutritious food with a smaller environmental footprint.

In the book you’ve strayed from the format of your previous book, Wild Fermentation, which provided specific recipes. Why?