CakeWalk

Sprouted Wheat Flour Quick Bread.

2012-02-01T09:39:00.004-06:00

My month of without refined sugar has ended. However, with a flip of the calender I still don't feel liberated enough to dive headfirst back into my previous affair with sugar. I feel better without him, and the trial separation only cements what I knew in my head but not in my heart to be true: that refined sugar is a devious addiction, one that is full of false happiness and is incredibly hard to break.

So then, what is a habitual baker to do? Last week, my Parents visited and I made a chocolate sourdough cake in honor of their arrival. I also made a quick bread for the first time in a month. I could sing the praises of quick breads all day, but usually they are riddled with sugar and frequently they contain more than one type. Sugar in quick bread appears solid but is treated as liquid, and it adds moisture even if you are off thinking about his devilish ways.

As with all things that I've done so many times that they have become reliable, I have a hard time just swapping a major part of a recipe out entirely. I'm afraid of the result becoming inedible, wasting perfectly great ingredients simply because I'm curious. I have reduced sugar by small percentages, but never just removed it entirely and replaced it. I actually said "no guts, no glory" as I poured into a favorite quick bread recipe what I figured would be an appropriate amount of maple syrup. And with the gamble, came a wonderful result - a bread that was moist, not too sweet and surprisingly devoid of any real maple flavor.

unsure of the maple flavor, I omitted the citrus zest - but I wouldn't have needed to.

The gently domed loaf, the frozen cranberries that turned tender and sweet, this bread was guilt free, and perfect with our morning coffee. Had I made this bread without the company of my folks, it would have lingered for a week. My picky boys have nothing to do with cranberries. But the demise of the loaf just after my Parents' departure had me thinking about even more healthful quick breads. Could I use sprouted wheat flour and come up with something even more virtuous?

Over the weekend, I sprouted and dehydrated about a pound and half of soft wheat berries. Monday morning, I turned some into flour and made my favorite waffles. The kiddo declared them the best I've ever made, and I had to agree. There is something naturally sweet about sprouted flour, and something ridiculously fragile. Airy cross-sections of waffle practically melted under a gaze. This could be because the gluten in sprouted flour is drastically changed and reduced by the act of sprouting. (I'm assuming this based on trial and error, and this fascinating graph. If you know something about the science of sprouted grains and how composition changes, please leave me a comment!)

Last night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had to know if I could bake the same loaf of quick bread using my previous maple syrup substitution AND augmenting it with sprouted soft wheat flour. My result was not too far from perfect. The middle did not raise much and fell as it cooled, the bread took longer to bake, and then it still felt "wet" in the middle even after cooling completely. But the flavor was so good, and the texture compelling, that I'm not giving up on this recipe. It had the texture of steamed British pudding, the cranberries even more soft and downright pudding-like themselves, but yet the edges were fully dried out and just a whisper sends it breaking into crumbly bits.

It's good with the morning coffee. And it was good before bedtime as well. I may have a hard time making it last a week.

If you don't use the sprouted wheat flour, the loaf will rise higher and probably not need as long to bake. I will update this post at the bottom as I continue to work through this recipe.

Sprouted Wheat Cranberry Bread (adapted from Cook's Illustrated)

2/3 c. thin yogurt (or buttermilk)
6 T. butter, melted and cooled slightly
3/4 c. maple syrup
zest of one orange (or lemon)
1 egg, lightly beaten
2 c. sprouted soft wheat flour
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1 t. kosher salt
6 oz. cranberries (about 1 1 /2 c.), coarsely chopped (I use a food processor)
1/2 c. toasted pecans or walnuts

Preheat oven to 375. Dip a pastry brush in the melted butter, and coat the inside of a standard size loaf pan.

Stir together yogurt (or buttermilk), maple syrup, orange zest, melted butter, and egg.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt. Add the wet ingredients, and stir gently just to combine using a rubber spatula. Fold in the cranberries and nuts, and spread into prepared pan - being sure to spread it well into the corners.

Bake at 375 for 15 minutes, then lower the heat to 350 and continue baking for 45-55 minutes until the top is deep golden brown and a tester comes out mostly clean. (I'll try baking this next time at a lower temperature throughout the whole baking time.) If the loaf appears to be darkening too fast during baking, tent it with foil.

Remove from oven, let stand in the pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes before removing from pan to cool completely before slicing.

It could be that the cranberries gave off a little too much moisture, preventing the center from drying enough, but strangely this bread is not heavy or leaden. A dried fruit addition could cure that perhaps. What I do know is that the Internet seems strangely devoid of recipes for sprouted wheat quick breads, and I may just make it my mission to remedy that. If you have any tips or ideas, send them my way. Meanwhile, I'll be sprouting more wheat berries.

Daring Baker Challenge January 2012: Biscuits.

2012-01-27T07:30:00.004-06:00

Audax Artifex was our January 2012 Daring Bakers’ host. Aud worked tirelessly to master light and fluffy scones (a/k/a biscuits) to help us create delicious and perfect batches in our own kitchens!

Tireless is probably a more than apt description of our host this month. Since I have joined the Daring Bakers, I've looked forward each month to Audax Artifex's take on our challenges, his lightening fast completion times, and the phenomenally articulate recipe notes that he shares nearly immediately. For his hosting of a challenge, I would have expected something wildly complex, but instead he chose biscuits (called scones in Australia), and he really mastered them. Go have a look!

I started my testing of biscuits near the beginning of the month, and only did 6 batches, 10 short of Audax's 16. I fully intended on making his recipe at least once, but I got so sidetracked by sourdough that I never made it that far. In fact, I did my last full dessert biscuit application yesterday, not leaving myself any time to get to his original recipe. Maybe I was just so inspired by Audax's tireless approach to mastering a recipe that I figured I'd adapt a single recipe until I had it nearly foolproof myself.

this batch didn't rise so high because I patted the dough thinner, about 1/2 inch.

I have made baking powder biscuits in the past. I know that you are supposed to be careful with the dough, not to beat it up, treat it with a lick and a promise and make sure that they touch each other when you pack them lightly onto a baking sheet. I have never made sourdough biscuits however, which I have to assume are the predecessor to the more modern baking powder version. The base recipe I found tasted so good on the first go (except that I used butter right out of the box... I would not be found messing around with butter flavored vegetable oil), that I varied my fats, baking temperature and roll-out method and found my favorite combination fairly quickly in only 6 batches.

The base recipe (by Phil Mahan) I used was designed for a camp cooking experince. It is extraordinarily simple, and it's very easy to make half batches of which is good when you can polish off a whole batch warm from the oven. I found it best to use sourdough starter (100% hydration) that I had fed about 4 hours prior. I also tried adding baking powder along with the natural leaven of the sourdough, and found no real discernible taste difference. The rise took about half as long, which was maybe convenient, but my personal feeling is to let the biscuit be naturally leavened. I think I am just still intrigued that the jar on my counter can lift dough, and if given the time, it does a stellar job of it.

In my first trials, I mixed room temperature soft butter with sourdough starter, added my flour/salt/sugar mixture and basically "kneaded" it in a large bowl by folding it over onto itself until it formed a ball. I tried to do this purposefully, so I wouldn't beat up the dough, but with a sturdy hand so that the dough would come together somewhat swiftly. Then, I simply patted the dough out into a rough block about 1 inch thick. (I also tried patting it thinner, and they didn't rise as high.) Using a round cutter, I used the classic method of pressing straight through the dough and then twisting to cut out the biscuit. I gently pressed my scraps together, and even though they were not quite as pretty and didn't rise quite as high, they still tasted great - lightly sweet and still a little sourdoughy. They are a perfect match for sweet or savory, I don't think I'd change a thing to turn them into strawberry shortcake or drown them in gravy.

The original recipe I used for sourdough biscuits didn't call for traditional biscuit cutting, it called for forming the dough into balls. Not only is this faster, I found that they rose better too. After forming a batch of biscuit balls, I decided that something could easily make its way into the middles of round biscuits and stay put. The month wasn't long enough to try all of the ideas that popped into my head.

The first combination I tried was ham and a slow melting "baked" cheese called Juusto. I love this cheese, and it's actually made just down the road from my Parents. Not knowing if the biscuit balls would pop open on me, I was a little stingy with filling them. I remedied that yesterday when I decided on making a chocolate and tart cherry version. I packed them with as much filling as they could hold, pinched the dough firmly to keep it in place, then rolled it lightly between my palms.

This was the first jar of tart cherries I opened from last Summer. I got 27 lbs. of already pitted fruit from Cherryland's Best with a group of area food bloggers. I canned my whole cherries in an light syrup (1 part sugar to 4 parts water), and they tasted so good when I popped a few into my mouth, as good as they did the day I got them, reminding me exactly why canning appeals to me so much.

While the mixture of wrung-dry cherry and chopped chocolate doesn't look the prettiest, it makes up for it in flavor. The cherries are undeniably good, but I have to believe that part of the reason is also that I was gifted a block of Callebaut bittersweet baking chocolate. That chocolate gift was better than if someone gave me a piece of Stueben, though I treat it the same way by often admiring it's heft and smoothness. I do this for a positively certifiable amount of time. I then mixed a little cherry syrup with powdered sugar to make a pale pink glaze, and I could feel the pangs of sugar guilt running through my veins. I ended up eating 2 of them, hot out of the oven, glazed and sprinkled with cacao nibs. I didn't feel guilty at all. Well, maybe I did just a little.

I would venture to say that sourdough biscuits do taste best the second they come out of the oven, even though the unfilled biscuits I made were very good when toasted the next day. There are few things better than devouring something right after it comes from the oven, so I'd encourage you to plan it that way. When using well fed starter, I found 2 hours of rising time to be plenty. I also find it hard to get good color on these, even when I baked them longer they still barely blushed golden. It doesn't affect the eating though. Remember the recipe is easily cut in half.

Sourdough Biscuits (with Cherry Chocolate Middles) (adapted from Phil Mahan)
makes 12

2 c. well fed starter
1/4 c. soft butter, warm room temperature
2 c. AP flour
3 T. granulated sugar
1 t. salt

Stir to combine flour, sugar and salt in a medium sized bowl. Butter a cast iron skillet large enough to fit your batch (a 5 or an 8 worked for me for half and whole batches respectively).

Measure starter into a large bowl and add butter. Using a spatula or the back of a spoon, mash the butter into the starter until it is no longer visible. Add the flour mixture, stirring with spatula or spoon for a few strokes to help it begin to combine. Then using one hand, begin to fold the batter onto itself until it begins to form a dough. Work quickly, gently, and thoroughly. Stop as soon as all the dried parts of the flour are incorporated, and the dough feels like a dough. (If you can tell it is too dry, add a tablespoon or two of water before you have worked the dough to completion. If the dough comes together and there is still some flour in the bottom of the bowl that didn't get worked in, just discard it and the batch will be slightly less in volume.)

Press the dough out to a uniform thickness, about 1/2 inch (aim for 1 inch if you are going to cut biscuits using the method described above). Cut into 6 pieces. Working with one piece at a time, put a good amount of tart cherry and chocolate filling (recipe below) in the center of the dough and fold up the dough around it. Pinch it tightly to completely enclose the filling, then gently roll the dough to form a ball. Place the biscuits, just barely touching each other, in the prepared skillet.

Let rise (covered with a towel) until nearly doubled in bulk, about 2 hours depending on the warmth of the room. Towards the end of the rise, preheat the oven to 375.

Bake for 20-25 minutes until tops are lightly browned. (You can brush the biscuits with butter about half way through the baking time, or upon removing them from the oven if you like.)

Tart Cherry and Chocolate Filling

2 heaping cups of canned tart cherries (250 g.) drained, and pressed mostly dry, juices reserved for glaze if desired
4 oz. (120 g.) excellent bittersweet chocolate, chopped finely

Mix to combine. That's it. Here's a picture of what it will look like. And you will probably have a little leftover, which you should eat right away because you can't stand waiting on the oven to produce your sourdough biscuits with cherry chocolate middles...

So, I'm just days away now from my month free of sugar - or really it was my month almost free of sugar. What little splurging I did do was definitely worth it. My goal of feeling committed to less sugar on a daily basis is going to stick I think. I have gotten out of the daily routine of dessert, which some may argue is heresy, but I feel great so I'll continue it. At least until my next Daring Baker Challenge.

Thanks again to Audax for his amazing effort and choice in a challenge this month. I promise I will try his non-sourdough biscuits, but I am so happy that I got obsessed with this version! I would never have considered sourdough biscuits, and now they are just another of the sourdough things that I can't live without. If you're coming to dinner and I forgot to plan a bread, you're getting sourdough biscuits, and you are going to love them.

Kumquat-Habanero Marmalade.

2012-01-15T15:07:00.005-06:00

At the half-way point of my sugar-free month, I find that I've already made jam four times. Twice I made some for a friend, but twice I made it just for my jam shelf. Even though I dutifully allowed myself just a spoonful or two to check for flavor, I have come to the conclusion that if I add some kind of chile to something sweet, I can hardly keep it off of my mind or out of my mouth. That is exactly what happened when I decided to pair the bright orange habanero pepper with similarly orange kumquats.

Kumquats are a tiny, cheerful things that I've never tried before last week. I bought a few on impulse when I saw them in a rather neglected bin at my co-op. The second I got in the door, I washed one up and bit into it, the flood of vibrant flavor hitting me stronger than I anticipated. It tasted like every type of citrus I've ever had, held together by tropical, under-ripe undertones of mango. It felt so rebellious to simply bite into it, stippled peel and all - and in the midst of my sugar-freedom, it tasted sweeter than eating a plain sugarcube. The resinous aftertaste was just as rewarding, and just like that I knew my first marmalade of the new year would be made of kumquats.

After I decided to preserve them, I garnered even more excitement by reading about Marisa's kumquat experience, but I had already settled in on a recipe form from Linda Ziedrich - a longer, wait-around method similar to the lemon marmalade that I made last year, and one requiring only 12 oz. of fruit. When I decided to add a habanero, I knew right away that this one was going to be a keeper. I picked up more fruit, and then I waited for our first snowfall, since there isn't anything better than standing over a pot of bubbling citrus when the snow is flying...

Kumquat-Habanero Marmalade (adapted from Linda Ziedrich)
yield 2 pints (I made two half pints and 4 quarter pints)

12 oz. kumquats, sliced thinly into rounds, seeds removed and saved
1/2 of a habanero pepper, stemmed and seeded
5 c. water (filtered is best)
4 c. sugar (I used raw cane sugar)

Place the kumquat seeds into a spice bag, or tie them up into a small piece of cheesecloth. Put the kumquat slices, water, and bag of reserved seeds into a large preserving pot along with the chile pepper. Bring to a boil, and boil uncovered for 15 minutes skimming off any foam that may form. Remove the pan from the heat and cover with a towel. Let it stand at room temperature for 8-12 hours.

After standing, fish out the habanero pepper (but leave the bag of seeds in), add sugar to the pan and place over medium heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Then, increase the heat to medium-high and bring to a boil. Boil for one minute, then remove the pan from the heat, cover again with the cloth, and let sit for another 8-12 hours.

Prepare jars, lids and rings as well as a hot water bath. Bring the kumquat mixture to a boil slowly, then raise the heat and continue boiling until it passes the spoon test, jells when dropped on a chilled plate, or until the mixture heats to at least 220 degrees.

Remove the pan from the heat, remove the bag of seeds, and skim off any foam. Let the mixture rest for 5 minutes. Ladle into pint, half-pint or quarter pint jars and process for 10 minutes in hot water bath.

The result of this marmalade is truly addicting. Honestly, I tried not to eat any just because I am bound my my resolution... but I did eat one little Daring Baker trial with a spoonful and it was worth any cheating. It has such a clean flavor and underlying heat, which is the best type in my opinion. Hot on the tongue and then departing quickly, that's actually how I always think of the often misunderstood habanero. Yes, his heat is brutal, but it also dissipates faster than other chile. When coupled with sugar, that effect seems hurried and creates easy addiction because you want to keep feeling that embracing heat loll about in your mouth. At least I do!

In a way, I'm looking forward to February, when I can be guilt-free in trying more sugary combinations. I love chile preserves in particular paired with cheeses and other savory and salty things. I wonder how it would taste if I made a hard boiled egg and mixed the yolk with jam before filling the silky egg white hull. But I know that is just the allure of sugar tugging at my heartstrings, just making sure that I haven't left him for good. Even with these tempting jars of this marmalade close at hand, I am surprised at my resolve, and I actually think quite often of the Sally Fallon quote in Nourishing Traditions: "Don't forget to enlist the power of prayer in your battle against the sweet tooth". It is a battle, but one that with each passing day I feel more like the victor instead of the victim. In the middle of a sugar-free month I'm able to resist this irresistible jam, I must be doing something right!

Snow and Seltzer.

2012-01-12T21:15:00.004-06:00

Well, we finally have our snow. Since late this morning, I've been looking out the windows at the sky which is the same color as the ground, rooftops and most of the snow-dusted driveways. The monochromatic part of the year is finally here. Our land did not previously look like any January I can remember, it resembled more of a deep fall or early spring depending on the humidity and sunshine levels. I do love the first snow and how it's all anyone can talk about. I love that every person that is Wisconsin born and bred mysteriously forgets how to drive, and I love hunkering down over a kettle of something warm, thankful that I don't have anywhere more important to be than my kitchen.

It seems I'm always busy doing something culinary lately, but haven't taken the time to be a creative writer about it. Our dinners have been simple things producing leftovers, and on the bread front, I'm doing secret (and deliciously obsessive) Daring Baker trials using sourdough. Earlier this week, I tasted a kumquat for the first time. I decided immediately that I'd wait for our snowstorm and then begin a marmalade of them and I did. (But more on that in a day or two.) I realized that I haven't replenished my cilantro-raisin chutney for about 4 months, and instantly got a craving for it. A new batch is fermenting, and I intend to make egg tacos sometime soon to enjoy it with.

I've also been playing around with my new SodaStream. It came in the mail when I was gone for my Christmas break and I think I opened the box and read the instructions before I even unloaded my car I was so excited. Who knew fizzy water could be so exciting?

I am not a soda drinker, if I have 2 full cans of "pop" a year, that's something. On occasion, I do like sugar-free flavored seltzer waters, but I usually prefer them more in the Summer. I've had more excuses to try out all kinds of fizzy drinks since this simple machine arrived. Some really singular and delightful things, and I know that more experimentation is in my future.

secret tests.

While I cannot reveal the nature of my recipe tests, I can tell you that when I retried several of my tested syrups using the seltzer water produced with the SodaStream, I was incredibly more excited about them. The quality of the bubbles is amazing, like supercharged soda. I felt like it actually improved the syrups I had! I haven't felt so enamored of soft drinks since I worked at the Square Pie a decade ago, where I had fallen under the spell of fountain Coke mixed with vanilla and spiked with half and half. Lime Cokes are pretty great too.

While SodaStream does make a variety of syrups to accompany their machines, I haven't yet tried all of them. However, three tiny glass bottles contained unsweetened, clear and natural essences of fruit. I tried the lemon-lime and the raspberry, and liked them much better than the canned LaCroix waters (which was the brand of flavored water I liked the best pre-SodaStream). Outside of testing recipes, I am trying hard to remain refined sugar-free for the month of January, so I will try some of their other syrups next month after the end of my Sugar-Free January. They are mostly corn syrup free, and I am particularly looking forward to trying the blackcurrant and pear flavor.

So far some of my favorite drinks were not only homemade, but easy and naturally sweet:

I do have an unbelievable sweet tooth, and giving up sugar cold turkey wasn't really all that easy for me. When I found an aging bottle of Pom pomegranate concentrate in the door of my refrigerator, I was happy that I liked it so much I was still hoarding it. A couple tablespoons of that in super fizzy water is really great, and I prefer it to plain pomegranate juice, which has always struck me as almost too tart to drink on its own. Since I've been sugar-free for a length of time, I felt that by adding some quality bubbles pomegranate juice became much more sweet than tart, and it crushed any feeling in me of wanting dessert. I've used this trick a few times now to prevent myself from caving in and making a cake. I'm not really even joking.

grape drinking vinegar.

I made many drinking vinegars this past Summer, and most of them I sweetened prior to bottling. The only one I didn't add sugar to was the concord grape, which came from grapes growing on my Parents' place. It is marvelously grapey, and while I probably wouldn't mind a little sugar in it, it did make a nice shrub. I did notice that the carbonation in the one liter bottles that come with the SodaStream stays well for about 2 days. The picture above was taken on the 3rd day after carbonating, and it was still effervescent, but not nearly as active as earlier. The next time I refill one of the bottles, I'll try this again and maybe add a pinch of stevia to sweeten it.

My favorite drink so far is actually just maple syrup. I adore maple syrup anyway, and I'm not sure when the idea struck me to mix a touch of it with seltzer, but I'm so glad I did. It's amazing, and cures me instantly of any predisposition to more refined sweets. I get my maple syrup from one of my Parents' Amish neighbors, and I've actually had the pleasure of stepping inside their sugar shack in the Springtime when the air hung with thick sweetness and breezy chill. That day, many years ago now, I became a true maple convert. Each year, I ask for the darkest syrup they can spare (and they prefer this too and hold back most of it as reserve for their own family). Maple syrup seltzer needs it's own fan club.

And so it's snow and seltzer. Kitchen projects feel like they are on the way, but in a way I feel good to relax a bit and not cook solely for the sake of cooking. Enjoying little glasses of seltzer spiked with something homemade has been really fun. I'd like to figure out a way to do something savory... I keep thinking of the pontack sauce I made this Fall and I wonder if I could add it to seltzer and brine porkchops or something - maybe the way there are lemon-lime or cola hams out there. If you have any ideas for me, let me know.

I feel my sugar-free experiment is really a good thing, since I am re-training myself to appreciate less refined sweet things and all savory things in general. Other sugar-free benefits I didn't anticipate were my appetite and energy levels both greatly improved. I guess that seems like a given, but now that I've laid off sugar, I seem to have returned to my nite-owlish ways and have no feelings of tiredness throughout the day. I also am downright hungry when mealtimes roll around and those two reasons alone empower me to believe I can actually keep to a more moderate sugar consumption after my one-month commitment is over.

I hear the neighbors shoveling which is my cue. I suppose I better go dig out my boots for the first time this season and get out there. I like going into a snowy night in the city. I can pretend I'm more rural since the snow muffles the ambient noises, and it's a rare snowfall that is polluted by obnoxious snow blowers. The snow itself appears to be on the light side, but I guess I'll find out.

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Disclosure: I did receive a SodaStream Genesis model for review. My opinions are mine alone, and I did find both the design of the machine and the quality of the water it carbonates to be excellent.

Whole Wheat 'Burger' Buns, and a Healthier New Year.

2012-01-03T20:01:00.009-06:00

A brand new year, and a fresh blank page: it seems that with each passing year, that happens more and more quickly. I remember this daily now as I think back to when I was the same age as the Kiddo and Christmas hung in the air for what felt like 6 months. The anticipation of Christmas Eve, when our Mexican Feast filled my Gram's little red log home to capacity, was the crown jewel of my year. The week between Christmas and New Year's Eve where we were pretty much free to do whatever and stay up as late as we liked was the best micro-climate of my youth . Even as I got older, I still held Christmas week sacred, using up what vacation time I had to take off most of the time between the 24th and the 31st, to just relax and not do anything related to my normal, routine life.

My week this year did not disappoint. I spent it in the company of some of my favorite people, my Parents. We ate frequently and too much, I whined about my sugar consumption, and made my first vow to lay off it for real. We took naps and watched movies. I did my Amish errands to pick up my egg, flour, and sugar staples, and I even ate lunch with my old boss and some long lost 90-year-old friends. I relaxed so much I didn't even have to feed my sourdough starter, since I had fed it and put it into my fridge the day before I left.

It's only been a few times now that I haven't traveled with my starter, and it still feels a bit like I'm leaving something behind. When I have that living thing on my counter every day, it's a good reminder that "if I take care of you, you'll take care of me". I really do love sourdough baking, and since I have ready access to well fed starter, it's become almost easy to calculate exactly how long until a wild bread can pop out of my oven. But every once in a while, it's so exciting to have the versatility of commercial yeast at my fingertips...

My Mom and I went to a thrift store over the break where I found a copy of Lukas Volger's Veggie Burgers Every Which Way. I read the whole thing cover to cover before I even got back home, and did so even though I was so full during most of my reading that the tempting combinations didn't even pique my appetite. I read a lot of cookbooks, and I haven't been this infatuated with almost everything in a book I've read in quite a while. I want to make everything! The man has a beet and brown rice burger! (And, a cauliflower burger!) It's infinitely inspiring I tell you, and all of it is healthy. While you are waiting for your copy to arrive, you can check out Lukas' equally inspiring website, like I did for a good chunk of my morning...

After a few new days of austere eating (and I've been without sugar now for 3 whole days - outside of a few bites of cream soda creme brulee on New Year's Day), I actually am rewarded with ravenous hunger and appropriate appetite, and those recipes are now completely dogging my every step. When I had only a heel of hybrid sourdough left from two days ago and needed an accompaniment for our soup dinner tonight, I decided to give one of Lukas' burger buns a go - and I am not sorry I did. His headnote states that he's "happy to eat them without anything sandwiched inside", and I would full-heartedly agree. So would both of my picky boys, who ate them and asked for seconds. I made them with the express purpose of having some leftovers for some veggie burgers for tomorrow, but they ended up fueling my excitement for non-wild yeasts!

my first loaf of 2012: hybrid sourdough - but I baked this one in cast iron...

My problem with baking now is that I sometimes don't pay close enough attention to what I'm doing. I was mixing up this dough intending to use whole wheat (strong) flour and bread flour and accidentally opened the jar of AP flour. To a gorgeous caramel colored slurry of water, milk, molasses and a hint of maple syrup, I added 1 cup each bread flour and AP flour, and then added in all of the whole wheat flour as I mixed. My dough was the color of unbaked light gingerbread, and smelled wheaty and slightly sweet - a scent that with 3 days of sugar-freedom I was highly aware of. The recipe below has the flours as written with very few changes from me. Just be careful not to add too much flour, and these should be some of the softest burger buns you've ever had.

Lukas Volger's Whole Wheat 'Burger' Buns (very slightly adapted)
yield 10 buns

1 c. warm water (less than 115 degrees F)
3 T. warm milk (I used cold milk, and slightly hotter water to warm it up
1 T. maple syrup
2 T. molasses
2 T. olive oil, plus additional for coating the bowl
2 1/4 t. active dry yeast
1 egg, beaten
1 1/2 - 2 1/2 c. bread flour
1 1/4 c. whole wheat flour (I used a high protein whole wheat)
2 1/4 t. kosher salt
1 egg beaten with 1 T. water or milk for eggwash (I used egg whites, since I had a number leftover from the creme brulee), optional
mixed seeds for garnish (I used poppy, sesame, rolled oats, wheat bran, and chia)

In a small bowl, combine water, milk, maple syrup, molasses and olive oil, and stir well to mix. Stir in yeast, and let stand for 5 minutes, until the yeast looks foamy and activated.

In a large bowl, or the bowl of a stand mixer, stir to combine 1 c. of the bread flour, 1 c. of the whole wheat flour, and the salt. Add the activated yeast mixture and mix well. (Volger suggests using a paddle attachment at first if using a stand mixer, but I did it by hand with a Danish whisk, and then switched out to let the dough hook do my kneading.) Add the additional flours to feel (add the whole wheat first, since it's only 1/4), being careful not to make too stiff a dough. Knead 10-12 minutes by hand, or 8-10 minutes with the stand mixer. The dough will feel smooth and elastic, not really sticky. Form the dough into a loose ball.

Coat a large bowl with a bit of olive oil, and place the dough inside. Cover with plastic wrap and leave in a warm place to double in size, 1 to 2 hours. (It's very cold here today, and I actually did my first rise at 90 degrees in my dehydrator! It worked great, and the dough doubled in one hour.)

After the first rise, divide dough into 10 portions (I weighed it, each roll was 89 g. or about 3 oz. - a perfect size for a burger), and place on a parchment lined baking sheet. (Place them at least 3-4 inches apart if you don't want them to touch at all, this is 8 rolls for a standard quarter sheet pan) Cover with a lint-free cloth, and let rise until the buns are doubled in size, another 1-2 hours.

Towards the end of the rising time, preheat the oven to 400. Just before baking, brush each roll with the eggwash and sprinkle with seeds if desired. Bake the rolls for about 15 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through.

I know I shouldn't be so surprised when something turns out great, after all shouldn't most published recipes be great? And, don't I know how to bake bread? Why shouldn't I just expect the bread is going to turn out? These could be some of the mysteries that prevent so many people from the the joys of bread baking. But, with each bread attempt, I still learn something. These taught me to realize that I don't care much for heartier Anadama bread, with larger amounts of coal black molasses. I like the flavor of molasses in bread much more when it is tempered to caramel goodness, and soft. Soft bread does have it's place on my table once in a while.

a sharp eye will notice the middle of this is just a bit damp. that's because I was too excited to wait for this bun to cool before slicing into it.

It is my goal to go without refined sugar for the entire month of January. (Julia and I have a dedicated Sugar-Free January Facebook page here, if you want to check it out or participate.) The blackstrap molasses I used today is maybe technically refined. It is a by-product of the cane sugar industry, but it's not unlike boiling down apple cider into cider syrup, or boiling down pomegranates into pomegranate "molasses". My goal for this month isn't to berate myself and get upset, it's only to be more mindful of my sugar consumption - and this includes my fruit intake too. I love vegetables, but fruits do seem easier to grab this time of year. I'm hoping a book like Veggie Burgers Every Which Way will continue to inspire me to eat differently and appreciate different flavors. Judging from just this first recipe, I have no doubts really.

When the month and the year are new, and I feel the same blank slate that many do this time of year, I am happy for the variation in my diet, and thankful that I have the ability to be so choosy about what I eat!

This post has been Yeastspotted.

Daring Baker Challenge December 2011: Sourdough.

2011-12-28T09:14:00.001-06:00

Our Daring Bakers Host for December 2011 was Jessica of My Recipe Project and she showed us how fun it is to create Sour Dough bread in our own kitchens! She provided us with Sour Dough recipes from Bread Matters by Andrew Whitley as well as delicious recipes to use our Sour Dough bread in from Tonia George’s Things on Toast and Canteen’s Great British Food!

I guess if I'm honest, at first I was a bit disappointed that our December challenge wasn't panettone, fruitcake, or something else more seasonally suited. But even if personally I questioned the seasonality of the challenge, I was more than excited that the gospel of sourdough was about to be tackled by a wide audience of Daring Bakers! It also gave me a chance to read a little more about other methods of sourdough starters, and re-kindled my excitement for all things bread.

I did not grow an additional starter as outlined in the recipes we were provided since I had already grown my own, and I didn't craft a plain sourdough bread since I have been regularly practicing this now for more than a year. I did feel once again that I fulfilled the spirit of the Daring Baker by challenging myself to make a sweet dough with my sourdough starter - something that outside of pancakes and waffles, I've never done before. My results were visually stunning, but lacking a little in the softness of traditional sweet yeasted breads. I am not about to give up on the quest to transform my sourdough starter into a softer, kinder being... this journey is only just begun.

cinnamon-carmel sauce.

I decided rather last minute before Christmas to make a sourdough wreath using Teresa's (from Northwest Sourdough) recipe. With components like sour cream in the dough and a gorgeous cinnamon scented (and easy) caramel sauce, I knew the flavors couldn't be beat. It also was shaped in a way I had never seen any bread shaped before. Just a little patience and staggered forming times, and 4 near-identical wreaths were resting on my dining room table.

soft dough, a little sticky, but really lovely to work with.

I used Teresa's method of baking the wreaths under a cast iron "lid" of sorts, my overturned 5qt. Dutch oven base. In order for them to fit, I needed to make 4 smaller wreaths, which I weighed out at just over a pound each before forming. I started around 11 am on Christmas Eve, and my first completed wreath was out of the oven to cool just after 8 pm. I had first considered some refrigerated proofing time and setting my alarm to do the Midnight Baker thing, but thought that since it was Christmas after all, I shouldn't tax myself too much. I was also leaving pretty early in the morning on Christmas Day, and didn't want to feel sleepy at the wheel, which can occasionally happen to me when I get too little of solid sleep the day before.

When they came out of the oven, I brushed them with butter, and let them cool about a half hour each (nearly all the way) before tucking them into plastic wrappings to try to preserve a little of the softness that I had already figured would be elusive. I gave two away, and took two with me out to "the farm", and a day later when I finally was able to try a slice, they were a little tough. I wasn't really surprised. The flavor was really good, the dough a little sour, and the cinnamon caramel with chocolate and walnuts or pecans was really a good match. But I've still a lot to learn about wild yeast, and how to coax it into soft breads is not far from the top of the list. I wouldn't say it was a failure, it was just a stronger dough than I would have liked, and that my family was expecting.

I have been mentally obsessed with this post from another of my favorite bread blogs, Wild Yeast. In it, Susan describes the special treatment of wild yeast starter prior to baking a panettone. Several days of balmy 85 degree atmosphere and more frequent (every 4 hours) feedings may be the ticket to softer, more "traditionally textured" sweet bread dough. I am considering a personal, month-long, sugar-free zone for January, but I may have to make an exception for the sake of experimentation... that or I'll have to give it all away. That works for me too.

I am sure you have not read the last from me on the quest for the perfect soft sourdough. Meanwhile, please have a look at the original recipe from Northwest Sourdough that I used for these sourdough wreaths. If I were to eat one hot from the oven, I have a feeling my textural complaints would have been far fewer. Why not reduce the recipe and give it a go yourself!

If you are looking to start a sourdough starter of your very own, this month's Daring Baker Challenge recipe has some starters (made with rye and whole wheat flours) to get you started. (There is also a gluten-free starter and an interesting rice, Brazil nut and flax seed bread to make with it.) I made mine using grapes, and the process took me much longer to get going that the DB instructions suggest. It was well over 2 months before my starter was in any condition to raise a loaf of bread, but that is only my experience. The miraculous thing about wild yeast is that your location and atmosphere and a whole host of other factors will determine your successes and failures. You have only to dive in and start experimenting. If you ask me, it's a good New Year's Resolution to pursue!

If I don't get a chance to post any more kitchen adventures before the end of 2011, this Daring Baker Challenge was an excellent way to end my culinary year. It piqued my interest into a new facet of sourdough baking, and it allowed me to check out other bakers who may have never used a wild yeast starter before. There is always something to learn with wild yeast, and I look forward to a new year full of new experiments with it!

Happy New Year!!

(Oh and one last thing: if you live in the Milwaukee, Wisconsin area and would like some sourdough starter, just email me! I am more than willing to give you a starter to work with. I am also open to dehydrating some and mailing it to you, provided you live in the US (since I'm unsure of international wild yeast shipping laws...). It should rehydrate with a bit of care and build up much more quickly than starting completely from scratch.)

Hot Lunch and Vinegar.

2011-12-20T16:35:00.001-06:00

I feel like it's been months since I've eaten lunch. At least, the lunches I was used to eating before my Kiddo went to full-day Kindergarten. While most of the time I do make a point to carve out a proper lunchtime for myself, the past month or so has been bread and cheese eaten on the fly type lunch, or cold whatever I had for dinner last night lunch. I was just telling a new friend how the school lunch time for my son is only about 15 minutes long, and how important meal times are to us. Before the Kiddo went to school, we would frequently sit for an hour around the table for lunch, chatting and lallygagging over a proper meal. How is it I've reduced myself to 10 minutes of cold food?

This past two weeks, I have been swamped in sugar. I haven't really tried to eat my fill, but it seems that in testing (and you do need to taste things, just to make sure they are good, right?) multiple sweets many times during the morning, my belly was just aching for some real vegetable food. When half of a sweet potato fell out of the Tetris of my refrigerator around lunchtime today, it was as if I was being beckoned to cook for myself. A hot lunch of vegetable drawer items, sauteed in olive oil and finished off with a bit of hot, home-canned jalapeno brine. Lucky for me, I had a couple of pinto bean tortillas hiding in the freezer that quickly came back to life under the steam of the skillet, and the remains of some cotija cheese I found buried in my cheese drawer. I felt lonely at the table by myself, but fortunately, my eyes wandered across the room to the cider vinegar that I've been putting off for a while now...

Satiated with my wholesome, non-sugared lunch, I started my afternoon by tasting the jars of vinegar. The larger of the two jars I started first, just after pressing the apples for the first time this fall with my Parents. It was pleasantly floral, vinegary but still gracefully reminiscent of the apples we picked. Since I plan to use these vinegars to cook with or dress salads (or drink with seltzer), I am not worried so much that they aren't very strong, not nearly as strong as Bragg's cider vinegar. The smaller of the two jars was considerably weaker but still a bit acidic. I figured it could benefit to stand longer, but I decided to use some right away in my fermented hot sauce I had all but forgotten about.

The vinegar mat that formed on the tops of the smaller diameter jar was much thicker than the larger, shallower jar. I'm not sure if the type of jars I used contributed to the time frames that the vinegars took to complete. I almost suspect so. I saved my "mothers" (if you are local and want some, let me know...), and I'm saving them not quite sure where my vinegar adventures will take me going into the new year. I have taken a break from kombucha brewing, in part because I don't have a huge space to store all my projects and I was a bit worried about cross-contamination. I'd like to get back to daily kombucha consumption, especially since I have quite a cache of tested fruit syrups that have made their way to my freezer!

I had quite a time finding jalapenos this summer, which I remembered when I was eating my taco lunch devoid of any additional peppers. I was able to find an ice cream pail of mixed hot peppers, and I got to pick them alongside an Amish man as we talked about his family and who in it liked hot food. The Amish, for the most part, like spicy things which is kind of surprising to me. I didn't get to make as many candied jalapenos as I had hoped this year, instead I got a pint of wicked orange pepper paste. It was much too hot to eat a spoonful on anything (and I can handle things pretty warm, mind you), so after I fermented it I left it in the fridge for months where I nearly forgot about it. (You can read more about my search for peppers this year over here. The recipe link that I loosely followed to lacto-fermenting my hot sauce is there as well.)

I transferred it to my VitaMix, and added some of the mild vinegar to taste. Taste testing hot sauce is a difficult thing, but I did my best. I threw in a casual soup spoonful of honey and added more of the mild vinegar. This is a pretty hefty heat, but one that hits the front of your tongue first and then moves on fairly quickly. It's not the lingering, throat coating heat of a jalapeno, and it's a good thing, since it's maybe 10 times hotter. I think I got my sauce to a good flavor, but it's nearly water in consistency. No matter, since just a few drops of this stuff will enliven anything I can throw at it for the next year or so. I got one old Frank's Red Hot bottle full, plus two small 8 oz. vanilla extract jars. Even though they were washed thoroughly, I wonder if a nuance of vanilla will be found in the sauce after it sits, or if that hot sauce will just eat its way through any residual vanilla perfume. Time will tell.

I sat down last night to make a quick label for some Blueberry Vinegar, this was the only vinegar success I had after obtaining my original mother of vinegar from Lizzy, my Parents neighbor. I had 3 half pint jars, plus this little re-purposed vial:

I clarified this vinegar by bringing it up to 140 degrees. It's no longer raw, but very pretty!

Since my Husband has been working more evenings, I have lately felt ravenously hungry by the time 5 o'clock hits, too hungry to wait for him for supper. But not so much today. Hot lunch is something I'll have to implement for myself again on a regular basis. I've talked before on the pleasures of cooking for one, and it is such a good feeling. I had no idea what would become of throwing vegetables into my cast iron skillet, and then miraculously tacos appeared. Even eating alone didn't feel quite so lonely when contemplating the vinegar and all of its complexities, though I still felt the pangs of aging as I remembered the solemn fact that my son is now going to be in school, unable to spend the lunch hour with me for most of the year from here on out. I suspect I'll be making labels now for my hot sauce, provided I can think of a clever name that isn't too trite. Maybe I'll ponder that over tomorrow's lunch.

Experimental Sweet Potato Muffins.

2011-12-15T16:24:00.000-06:00

I think most sweet recipes have personalities. Ice creams are light and playful, brownies suspicious and full of desire, and muffins are sturdy, the utilitarian farm-girls of recipe lexicon. With less sugar than their cupcakey counterparts, they are also something that most people feel they can indulge in on a near daily basis. I send a muffin to school with my Kiddo each day, and it is true that if I can bake it into a muffin shape, he will probably eat it.

I wasn't really intending to share this recipe. It's been around the block a few times - developed by Kim Boyce in her stellar whole grain baking book and posted by The Wednesday Chef where I plucked it up to help it continue on it's way. I've been testing a new batch of recipes for Andrea Lynn for her forthcoming book on artisan sodas. Using up an experimental sweet potato, I was pleasantly surprised at both how delicious and soft these muffins were, and at my son's enchantment with them. He wanted to eat three after he got home from school yesterday, when they still sat on the cooling racks before their transfer to the freezer. I let him have two, only because it made my heart so happy. He told me they were "as good as Alterra on the East Side's", which is pretty high praise. If I'm going to eat a non-homemade muffin, I go for Alterra's too.

I'd suspect you could use any orange vegetable that's been pureed in these muffins, so long as they equal about a cup total. Since I was using up about 6 oz. of grated sweet potato, I simply boiled it in a little water for about 20 minutes until it was soft enough. I used my immersion blender to blend it smooth, it was a little on the thinner side of vegetable purees but I suspect it added to the softness of the muffins. I also had to omit the dates, since my picky Kiddo will not eat them. I recently put them in granola, and he patiently picked out each one. Really. Every little tiny chunk of date. Dates would make these extra excellent however.

Experimental Sweet Potato Muffins (adapted from Kim Boyce via The Wednesday Chef)

1 c. pureed sweet potato or other orange vegetable
1/4 c. (1/2 stick) butter
3 T. dark brown sugar
3 T. granulated sugar
1 c. ap flour
3/4 c. whole wheat flour
1/4 c. pastry flour (the recipe called for whole wheat pastry, but I only had regular on hand)
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
1 T. cinnamon
1 t. ground ginger
1/2 t. allspice
1 c. thin yogurt or buttermilk (I didn't need quite as much liquid as the original recipe because I used thinner pureed sweet potato)
1 egg
1 t. vanilla

Preheat oven to 350.

Sift the flours, baking powder and soda, and spices over a medium sized bowl to combine.

In another medium sized bowl, cream the butter and sugars until the sugar starts to dissolve, about 3 minutes. In a 2 cup glass measure or small bowl, combine the yogurt, egg, vanilla and pureed vegetable, and mix to blend.

Add the dry and wet ingredients alternately to the bowl with the butter, beginning and ending with dry ingredients (3 installments of dry and 2 installments of wet ingredients).

Portion into greased or paper lined muffin tins, and bake for 25-30 minutes until a tester comes out clean. Remove from tin and cool completely on a wire rack.

I feel so fortunate lately to be completely immersed in food. Local projects and testing on top of Christmas baking seems to make me feel like a full-fledged pastry chef, and I love every second of it. I'm trying to find the time now for more in depth projects like this panettone with a specially attended wild yeast that needs to be nursed along at 85 degrees. I'm dreaming about it actually. I wish I had just one more week before Christmas...

Surprises arrive in my days like these muffins, which really appeared out of my desire for not wasting, and took advantage of an oven that was already on. So my apologies for yet another muffin posting, which the food blog world is certainly full up on. But their sturdy, good-natured selves are welcome in my world, their balanced nutrition and hints of sweetness complements to my freezer for quick bites and snacks.

Hungry.

2011-12-11T21:38:00.005-06:00

Do you think about being hungry? Hunger is something I actually think of a lot because I tend not to get very hungry. Instead I regularly cook and bake myself little bites here and there as I try to carve out a job for myself in the food world. It suits me a great deal to savor many mouthfuls of food throughout the day... even if a fair number of those bites end up being sweets. I long for the days that I work hard outdoors, for days that long walks and physical activities take me away from my kitchen. On those days, when I’ve allowed enough time to conjure an appetite, even the simplest of foods taste better to me.

While I can think about my hunger in a romanticized way, I realize so many people in our world are deprived of the basics of eating to simply sustain themselves. They aren’t thinking about their next kitchen experiment as I am, or how to maybe make a little money using food as their vehicle. They think about how to keep their families fed.

A while back I read the book by Jonathan Bloom called American Wasteland. If I took anything away from that book, it was the sheer amount of food that our country produces. So much, in fact, that “every day, America wastes enough food to fill the Rose Bowl. Yes, that Rose Bowl - the 90,000-seat football stadium in Pasadena, California. Of course, that's if we had an inclination to truck the nation's excess food to California for a memorable but messy publicity stunt.” (I've quoted that passage on my blog before, but really I have it committed to memory. The image of that stadium heaped with mostly viable food is overwhelming to me.) I have become much better at not wasting food on a personal level, but much can still be done on my part to help take some of that wasted food to feed others who are still really hungry.

Milwaukee has many amazing individuals and organizations who help distribute donated food to those who really need it. One new grass roots organization, FoodFightMKE, was started this fall by OrangeAid interns Joel Rottier from University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee, Bryan Padovano from Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design and Sallie Stacker and Dominic Mertens-Pellitteri from Marquette University.

FoodFightMKE is an effort to educate more people in our community about the real hunger that exists here, and to partner with and support the Hunger Task Force in their efforts to effectively distribute it. They are using social media outlets to effectively spread the word about hunger, and to engage more people to volunteer and take an interest in this issue.

FoodFightMKE is hosting a Bread and Soup event at the Riverwest Public House this Thursday, December 15. The event runs from 6:00-8:30 p.m, and soup will be donated by area foodies and local chefs (contact kriscollett@gmail.com or 414-807-5193 if you would like to contribute). The volunteers behind FoodFightMKE will be on hand to collect free-will donations on behalf of Hunger Task Force of Wisconsin.

There are also other ways to participate. Check out the FoodFightMKE website, and also the Hunger Task Force website for opportunities to help. You don’t have to give money or food, you can donate a few hours of your time helping to sort or distribute food, or even doing some data entry.

My own ideas on hunger, food waste, and food (re)distribution in America are complex. I remember reading once about a program like CookShop in New York City and thinking that if it were my passion and calling to tend to the nation’s hungry, I would start with a pound of beans and the knowledge of what to do with them. But sometimes, the realities of our culture and the immediate need of sustenance is most important, and what is best for some families is not for me to debate or criticize.

If the need of the hungry speaks to you, find the venue that best suits your abilities and availabilities. If nothing else, pondering the hungry is a good exercise in self-reflection. We can all benefit from the reminders that food is a miraculous thing, not to be taken for granted. It's something that in its basic, most primitive form is beautiful and overwhelmingly complex. It is something that, in the right hands, can transcend the everyday and become an art form. To have a body designed to thrive on eating is such a gift really, and our nation has been blessed with plenty. We should all at least work to be good stewards of what we have been given.

Daring Baker Challenge November 2011: Sans Rival Cake

2011-11-30T20:39:00.004-06:00

Catherine of Munchie Musings was our November Daring Bakers’ host and she challenged us to make a traditional Filipino dessert – the delicious Sans Rival cake! And for those of us who wanted to try an additional Filipino dessert, Catherine also gave us a bonus recipe for Bibingka which comes from her friend Jun of Jun-blog.

You may notice that I'm 3 days late in posting my challenge this month. That is because I had planned to make this dessert when I visited my Parents over the weekend for 2nd Thanksgiving. We had pies (plural), and pecan tarts, and way too much food, so last minute we agreed that we didn't need the additional dessert.

When I got back, I thought I would just skip it. I cleaned my house, I carried in my Christmas tree. I cleaned out my refrigerator, which needed it desperately, and I attacked the laundry and did a little sewing. Then today, the last day of November, I knew I just had to give this one a go. You know you are a baker at heart when you are sitting over your morning coffee and decide on a whim to soak 10 eggs in warm water since they needed to be a room temperature to begin a project...

Sans Rival cake, so called since it has no rival, is a cake made from cashew meringue layers and my old nemesis, French Buttercream. French (and Italian) buttercream and I don't seem to understand each other too well. I'm thankful for challenges that force me to practice them or I'd always choose the more cloying confectioner's sugar-based frostings.

I'm not absolutely certain that the frosting I made today was proper, after adding the boiling sugar-water it took an entire half hour in my stand mixer on high to whip it down to room temperature. I added the butter, slowly, cube by cube until it disappeared and then I tasted. I decided to flavor it with a pinch of salt and some almond extract, and then I tasted it again. I was pretty sure this is what angels dine on. I had a flashback to standing around the kitchen not too long ago with my Parents and sampling some really (really) great donuts - and one of us said "How can these be bad for you, they taste so light, and so good?" Another flashback immediately appeared to me of a high school friend who fed her little brother a stick of butter so he'd keep his pudgy fingers out of the butter dish. That kid just loved butter, so much he would eat spoonfuls of it. He would love this frosting. I could devote a lunch to it. Oh yes, I did kind of do that today.

But enough on the frosting... Cashews, being the most buttery of all nuts in my opinion, were an extravagant purchase for me and a good fit for the dessert, as well as being traditional. I had already toasted up the amount needed for the challenge, ground about half into fine powder for inclusion in the meringue itself, and reserved the rest of the pebbly fellows for the outside decoration. What took me the most time then, was making petite portions by recommissioning my egg rings as molds for smaller-sized meringues. I think I got about 44, plus a small, thin sheet that I spread on the parchment, a result of my spatula gleaning all I could from the edges of the mixer.

I quickly developed a good method for uniformly small portions. I put one scoop of meringue in each ring and spread evenly with an offset butter knife. Then, I ran a small paring knife around the edge to "break the seal", and removed the molds. Finally, I evened out the tops of the meringues with the knife. Baking these was a little trickier. Even though they weren't that thick, they still took upwards of 30 minutes to even get close to being dried out and crisp. In fact, I took them all out prematurely, and after making the frosting, I reheated the oven, and popped them all back in for 15 minutes to dry out some more. That did the trick; they felt light and not spongy, and had that Styrofoam sound that meringues typically do.

egg yolks: after lightening them they were still a sunny yellow since they were nearly orange to begin with...

that goes to say that my finished frosting then looked unsurprisingly like really good butter. really good butter that angels eat.

That frosting chilled for a good hour, and maybe the butterfat in my butter is too high, but it came back to room temperature so fast that it was really hard to frost with. I did my best, and hid the rest with clever piping - but I did have to pause quite a few times and pop everything in the refrigerator. I froze one before trying to cut it in half:

I broke the "tray meringue" sheet into shards, and made a pretty deconstructed version:

I've already confessed to quite a bit of frosting consumption, but I did also have a few bites of fully finished dessert. This is rich, and I am glad I went with almond extract in the flavoring of my frosting. While the cashews have a heavy, buttery, toasty taste, they needed the freshness of astringent almond to cut through it. It also bears noting that I am positively addicted to almond extract...

If I make this cake again, I will definitely make one large cake. I think my frosting woes may have been solved if I handled it less, and one large cake would have easily enabled that. I also think I may leave out the cocoa powder which was optional (and not traditional) in the meringue. It had more of a mild "mocha" flavor than a full out chocolate one, but I suspect it did something to the texture of the meringues that I wasn't entirely pleased with.

If you reread above and find that I thought this cake was rich, buttery, sweet, texturally suspect and tedious, you would be correct - but it was also just decadent enough to capture my imagination. I'm really looking forward to trying it again tomorrow, when my taste buds have started forgetting the mouth-coating properties of that angel frosting, and I have a clean palate to discern with. I really did enjoy this challenge, which was more of a challenge than I thought it would be!

I'm not reprinting the recipe here this month, since I did follow it exactly (by metric weights), using the cocoa powder in the meringue and almond extract in the frosting. You can find the recipe here at the Daring Kitchen, as well as the blogroll guide to so many Sans Rival cakes your head will spin.

Tomorrow is a new month and a new challenge, and I'd be lying if I said that I don't get a little too excited on the eve of each new reveal. What will I learn next? Stay tuned.

Updates: Pre-Thanksgiving

2011-11-17T15:18:00.002-06:00

Given the state of my "unemployment", I sometimes feel the need to justify what I do with my time. I shouldn't feel this way, I know. Almost 6 years into my homemaking career, I haven't forgotten what it's like to put in a full 40-65 hours a week outside my home, and I also know what challenges that brings to the dinner table. I have been so tired getting home from odd-hour jobs that I've made the choice to sleep instead of eat. Now any bleary-eyed mornings are due to reading too late into the night, knitting, or getting up to attend to doughs, and I can't say that I'd like it better any other way. I continue my projects, though many of them secretive, since the cookbook recipe testing is still underway - and that actually generates quite a lot of food that must remain discreet. This post will give you a peek at what is going on around here pre-Thanksgiving, the things that I am thankful for and excited about.

It appears that I have finally attained relative ease in the vinegar-making department. Using almost all of the beautiful cider I pressed with my Parents, I left it open to open fermentation under written affirmation from Peter's post on how good, non-treated apples will naturally do their best to become vinegar. After the open ferment appeared complete (and I tasted it, and it tasted beery), I inoculated it with vinegar mother that I had stored. The pictures here are from two weeks ago, but you can see the mat on the top of the jar on the right: it's now a full 1/4 inch thick. The photo below is the active fermenting cider. After the success of the first jar, I started another half gallon. I am happy to announce that I'll get my gallon of homemade cider vinegar, which was seriously one of my goals for the cider press. Mission (almost) accomplished!

This week, I have also bottled my Bachelor's Jam. I started it back in July when I got my strawberries, and I added throughout the Summer a number of fruits, a pound at a time. Bachelor's Jam, also called Rumtopf, piqued my interested when I first read about it last year. I made mine using the methods outlined in the River Cottage Preserves Handbook, a pound of fruit and a cup of sugar at a time until it was full.

Since I am in Wisconsin, the brandy consumption capital of the world, I opted to use a brandy base for my liqueur. I'm actually not all that fond of brandy, cognac yes, but that would be my famous "Champagne Taste" talking. I thought using brandy would help me to appreciate it a little more, and I may just be right about that. When I stirred up the pot, strained out the bleached and boozy fruit and tasted a little, it completely reminded me of Christmas: Wintery and warm, fruity and sweet - just the thing to drizzle over some ice cream, since we Wisconsin folk eat just as much ice cream in the Winter as we do the rest of the year...

it's such a pretty color, too.

With the success of my vinegar, and having a number of flavored "cheat" vinegars that I made this Summer on hand, I wanted to purchase some bottles for packing some up as gifts. I found some nice ones, inexpensive and perfect for my needs (both vinegar and hot sauce bottles), but after I had them in my online cart to check out, the shipping was as much as the bottles, and I couldn't take that leap. Instead, I'm revisiting my collections of jars and bottles in the basement that I've obsessively collected for some time now.

I am using far less purchased bottles of *whatever* lately, but when I do buy something, I pay special attention to the jar or bottle it comes in. I wash them out thoroughly (even taking several days of repeated washing recentely to try and get an olive oil bottle with a nice cork stopper perfectly clean...), glean every last smidgen of label adhesive from the exteriors. If I've been to your house and you have an interesting jar, I've probably asked you to save it for me too. It's a habit, and one day, someone will probably clean out my basement and wonder what in the world I saved all the glass jars and bottles for.

I don't usually fuss too much over cool labels, but an ancient Cointreau bottle with only a teaspoon (really, that was it) left was just about falling out of my cabinet the other day and I decided that I had to clean it up and repurpose it for my Bachelor's Jam. I'll bring this out when my "Christmas Company" comes, so I did fuss a little - trying to do my artistic best to match the font and content of a Cointreau label. I used to do a lot of pen and ink drawings, and sitting for 20 minutes to concoct this makes me want to illustrate all kinds of little bottles taking up space in my house. Maybe one will make its way to you.

believe it or not, I even Google Translator-ed the French on the front of the bottle...

On Monday, I finally went to the new Glorioso's location on Brady Street, just across the street from their charming old location. Part of the reason I took so long to check it out is that I feel bad when tiny hole-in-the-wall groceries are replaced by bigger, more luxurous digs. The souls of the ancient tiny establishments whisper to me in thunderous voices, and usually bigger never means better to me. The new Glorioso's is beautiful, you definitely won't turn around and hit someone like you could in the old place. I won't forget the wood floors and miniature space it came from, but wandering around was just as inspiring. A whole aisle of panettone, reminding me that I need to try my hand at that this year. I went there specifically for these bright green Castelventrano olives, some that I'd never tried before, for testing a recipe. I am smitten. They are soft and almost herby, not too salty and the most beautiful shade of green:

I also came home with Italian "00" flour, some cheese, a pound of lupini beans, and advice from an old man in the deli on how to prepare them. "Oh, just try it honey, you'll do just fine", he encouraged as he concluded, his arm resting on the gleaming case of prepared Italian deli foods. I am so glad I asked about them, since the process is time-intensive, and completely different then I would have thought. The beans need to soak, with a daily water changing, for at least 5 days, maybe longer if they still remain bitter. When I looked them up online, every source confirmed that, and also that they are worth the amount of time you spend since they are some of the highest protein beans other than the soybean.

When the man told me the lupini beans are bitter, I couldn't have been prepared for just HOW bitter they were. One bite of an undone lupini bean leaves a bitterness that extends all the way down your throat, and it stays there for 10 minutes; they are the very definition of bitter. When that bitterness is gone and the beans taste sweet, the beans are complete - and I'm on day 4 now, so I hope that will be soon. After the first 48 hours of soaking, I brought them up to a gentle boil for an hour or so and then let them cool back to room temperature. I continue to replace their water daily, tending to these chubby beings, these blonde Chicklets of supreme health, and I dream about eating them one after another, fully addicted. I should listen to an old Italian guy when he said to just eat them plain, but I may have to marinate them in oil and vinegar, since that is the way I've eaten them on occasion at overpriced deli-per-pound sections of other nameless luxury grocery stores. For under 3$ a pound, it's been cheap entertainment around here.

Cold wind has been blowing, along with a fair amount of rain lately. It makes me add layers, consider upping the thermostat and then deciding against it, and take up my knitting once again since working with warm fiber seems to warm you like nothing else. I finished up 3 small felting projects that were on the needles since last Spring, some potholders and an oven mitt for myself that I've already been putting to good use. My old oven mitt was burning me as I shoveled bread pots in and out, and I was ignoring the fact that I could really be seriously burned. I doubled the strands of wool so there is plenty of insulation, and wool is naturally fire retardant as well - not that I'm planning on being careless. The patterns I like best for kitchen felts are in this book by Beverly Galeskas.

So, never a dull minute really. Odds and ends come into place, my craftiness starts to run rampant now that I feel I have more time and Christmas to prepare for. The cookie list is beginning to form in my brain, and so are the details of things to make for others, bready experiments that will hopefully hold up well, and lots of things that I'll likely be excited to share. You can be sure that if those lupini beans turn out as well as I hope I'll be telling you all about it soon. My days are full, I fall asleep quickly, often mid-page, and I remember all the while that my Mom told me once her 30's came in "clumps". The days do fly by, but yet I appreciate each one and what it brings. I try to hold them still a little longer by making good use of my time.

Interviews.

2011-11-11T11:57:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I was asked by Shane to participate in an interview for his new and building website, National RV Parks. I wondered why he would want someone like me (a homebody who most of the time only can dream of travel) to be included in his articles on a travel based website. After I spent some time looking through some of the other interviews on his site, I found so many really interesting stories told through his questions. I'd encourage you to check them out. Even if you aren't bitten by wanderlust, I'm sure you will enjoy it as good reading, and maybe even find a few new websites to visit in the process. You can read my interview from today here, though I can't promise that I am half and interesting as some of the other people I read about!

On the topic of interviews, I remembered this interview I did when I was "tagged" last year by Brooke Fish of Pure and Noble. It's curious that interviews really make you stop and think, about yourself, your past, and what you love about your life. A small platform and a few questions, and anyone can be interviewed. Celebrity is really not that interesting to me, what is are the people I am surrounded by everyday - perhaps those that I've even overlooked. Everyone has something to say in his or her own way, and this could be just another of the reasons blogs are so addicting to read.

Thanks for including me in your project, Shane. I hope your site builds, and that your dream is realized!

Pan de Muerto.

2011-11-02T13:45:00.007-05:00

As you may already know, I've started writing a second blog for the community pages at Milwaukee Magazine. Yesterday, I wrote about cajeta - the Mexican caramel that is made from boiling down milk until it is rendered silky smooth and heartbreakingly brown. These first two days of November mark the celebrations of Dia de los Muertos, the days of the dead, and as I recounted yesterday, my family has not traditionally celebrated it.

My Mexican heritage is something somewhat buried inside me. Watered down by the generations of American citizenry, brought first to Texas then Chicago through my (maternal) Great Grandmother Carmen, a prize of my Mendez side is our love of sweets. My Mom has told me that my Great Grandmother used to love sweet sips of Pepsi, and all sweets really. "It's where we get it." she said, referring to our predisposition to sugar.

Personally I ebb and flow on the tide of desserts, all of them invade my thoughts and pulse through my culinary veins like the addiction I know it really is. In the past year, I have successfully cut back on sugary sweets, but I've given up trying to deny myself completely. Dessert is one of the great joys of my life, and if I lose a year or a tooth in the arms of this paramour, it will be worth it.

Having never celebrated Dia de los Muertos traditionally, I am a foreigner to the specialty sweets it brings with it. For my birthday, I had treated myself to a copy of Fany Gerson's My Sweet Mexico. Since, I've read it cover to cover, treasuring the photography as much as the descriptions of the recipes. She paints this holiday vividly, complete with with this enriched Pan de Muerto, flecked with orange peel and scented with orange water. I began it yesterday, unsure if it would succeed. The dough was unruly and sticky, but I stuck to Fany's insistence not to add additional flour unless absolutely necessary (after 15 minutes of stand mixer beating) and then no more than a small amount. My perseverance was worth it - and this is one of the loveliest, softest, gently sweet breads I've ever made.

When reading through the recipe, I felt like I had tried something similar before. A quick consultation with my aged recipe box (the kind that holds the 3x5 cards that no one uses anymore) confirmed my familiarity: I had tried to make something called Portuguese Sweet Bread years ago without luck. I had gotten the recipe from my ex-boyfriend's bread-genius mother, and I remember her lemony little breads raising all over her kitchen one year around Christmastime. The amount of butter and egg involved create doubt in the most seasoned baker I think, but if you pay it no mind and continue as if you know exactly what you're doing, pillow soft egg bread is your reward.

There is a reason this is a special occasion bread. It's a bread meant to evoke memory and bring with it a specialness of an occasion. There are variations on flavors included in My Sweet Mexico, but I had to try the orangy flavor that was recommended. I secretly wondered if combining the yeast with orange flower water would kill it off, but it did not. It is simply decadent with a stick of butter (and more for the top) and 2 eggs, but worth every little nibble. I halved Fany's recipe to yield a single loaf. This is going to make some stellar toast tomorrow morning.

Remember to begin the day before baking.

Pan de Muerto (Fany Gerson)
yield 1 loaf

Dough:

1 1/8 t. (a heaping teaspoon) active dry yeast
1 T. orange flower water
1/3 c. milk (whole or 2%)
2 c. bread flour
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. grated orange zest (I keep some in the freezer)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter, room temperature

Topping:

2 T. butter, melted
1/4 c. sugar (more or less)

Dissolve the yeast in the orange flower water. Add half of the 1/3 c. of milk (leave the other half out on the counter at room temperature), and 1/4 c. of the bread flour. Mix well with a whisk (dough should be sticky and smooth), and leave at warm room temperature for 20-30 minutes until the mixture begins to bubble and look puffy.

Put the remaining flour (1 3/4 c.) in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the hook attachment and add sugar, salt, and orange zest. Mix for about 30 seconds. Add the eggs, the remaining milk and the yeast dough mixture. Mix on low speed until the dough comes together, then add the butter a little at a time in small pieces with the mixer running, increasing the speed to medium. (Here is where Fany begins to suggest that you should resist the urge to add more flour!) The dough will be sticky!

Continue beating for 10-15 minutes. (I let mine go 20 actually.) The dough should start to pull away from the sides of the bowl a little bit, but if it doesn't (like mine), add a small amount of flour, but no more than half of a 1/3 c. (I added a little handful.)

Lightly oil a large bowl, and place the dough inside. Cover well with plastic wrap, and let raise at warm room temperature until doubled in size 1-1 1/2 hours (mine took considerably longer, 3 hours, but my house is on the cool side). Lightly punch down the dough, gathering the sides up and flipping it over so that the seams are on the bottom. (I tried to do this like I did for making Deena's focaccia bread, leaving some air and being gentle.) Refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight.

When ready to continue, bring the dough out of the fridge and leave at room temp to warm up for an hour. Cut off a lime sized piece of dough to use for the "bones", and on a lightly floured surface, quickly shape the (still sticky) dough into a ball. Transfer to a parchment or silicone mat lined sheet and press down gently. Form bones out of the excess dough, 2 (that would intersect in the center as they make an "X" over the top) or 4 (small bone "snakes", like I did), and a little gumball-sized drop for the top. Let rest, covered with a clean towel, until doubled in size about 1 1/2 hours, maybe longer.

Towards the end of the rise, preheat oven to 350. Bake for 20 minutes, check browning (mine never got too brown, but if appearing to be browning too quickly, tent with aluminum foil). Continue baking for 10-20 more minutes until the bottom is browned (and temperature taken from the bottom is 190 degrees).

Remove from the pan to a wire rack and cool for a few minutes. Brush with melted butter, and immediately sprinkle with sugar evenly all over the top.

I know I shouldn't have been shocked that this bread was so soft, but I was. I was actually shocked that something so sticky could result in something so perfectly beautiful as well. After it cooled and I finally cut off the end to try, I was surprised that it reminded me of my my other (maternal) Great Grandmother Laura. She was from Poland, and made plenty of amazing sweets that I am lucky enough to remember eating as a child. Cheese crepes, blintzes really, and something I remember as a round doughnutty thing, Pączki. She likely treated the tops the same way, with melted butter and granulated sugar. In fact, the texture of this bread was nearly identical to what I remember as her soft bread-like buns with sugary crusts. This bread really did cause me to stir up all kinds of memories of loved ones, maybe the intent all along.

Reading farther in My Sweet Mexico I see that this same bread base is used for Three King's bread, Rosca de Reyes, which is studded with candied fruits and figurines on the 6 of January to celebrate the day that Jesus became known to the world. This in turn reminded me of the Stollen I made at Christmas for the first time last year, and the more I thought about it, I realized that the flavors were very similar.

This Pan de Muerto, however, is far more tender and delicate than it's German counterpart, one worth daydreaming over for a day or two until you can't take it any longer, and you have to celebrate something for the first time. Dia de los Muertos, these days of remembering, have been very special for me. Now, I'll have taste memories to go along with it and fondly revisit. ¡Necesito recordar mi herencia mexicana! Through a few of the celebratory foodstuffs, I can do just that.

This post has been Yeastspotted.

Apples: Pressing, Cider, Vinegar, Pectin, Crisp.

2011-10-31T09:34:00.003-05:00

Last Thursday, my Parents, Kiddo and I went to Weston's Antique Apple Orchard. I have been buying apples from them at the West Allis Farmer's Market for several years; they have been a vendor there for 45 seasons. I never thought of looking to see if they had a website until I learned that I inherited my Gram's apple press, and I needed a good urban source for great apples. I called and spoke with a older man, who informed me good-natured-ly that I'd interrupted his nap, "Since I'm retired!" he'd said. I told him it was our first year with a press, and we just wanted to do a couple of bushels of apples to see about approximate yield and ease of the workload. We negotiated a price for windfalls, and I figured that any price would be worth seeing the land where some of the most exotic apples I've ever tasted have grown for generations.

Even though I'd called back the cell phone number he gave me, I wasn't entirely certain that we would find anyone at this antique orchard when we drove out in my Dad's truck on Thursday. But fortunately we found a sole worker: a middle-aged man in heavily patched pants and a lifting belt who had been debriefed about me and my desire for 2 bushels of apples. A talkative man, he explained that the orchard's brother and sister team worked 7 days a week with just a few helpers like him. He mentioned they were both notoriously difficult to get a hold of, and that we could pay him and then just walk around in the orchard and see which trees had fresh fallen apples. "If you wonder what they taste like, just find one on the tree, shine it up on your shirt, and try one," he reminded us. And we did. Some hard, yellow and tart, leather skinned and bursting with autumnal dryness, others as sweet as honey, plum colored and snowy white inside - the apples the witch likely offered the gullible Snow White.

We spent a hour or so wandering around collecting the bounty of fruits under some trees that seemed perfectly perfect, reminding my Kiddo to show us each apple before tossing it in the bushel basket in case it was buggy or bruised. I had wished the whole while I hadn't already done my applesauce with budget (but perfectly serviceable) apples from the farmer's market. My Mom was more excited that I was, we tried many types and each one distinct and almost unreal. Antique apples are the way to go. If you have a few minutes, just read about some of the unusual varieties that are grown at Weston's Orchard.

My Dad had brought baskets for us to use, those mysterious things that never seem to wear out and have appeared from nowhere. My Parents have all sorts of gardening baskets like that, old wired things with history that just seem immortal. The press was really something too. My Gram had an apple tree in her yard that was extremely prolific most years. We never knew which variety it was, but it was on the tart side and made the best sauce. There was always enough fruit for anyone who wanted any. She hadn't had the press for that many years, but my Dad cleaned it up thoroughly and carted it down here just so we could try this experiment that none of us expected to be so life changing.

In less than an hour, we had pressed our 2 bushels (less the amount my Mom took home for pies, and a couple of pounds that she left me for eating). My Mom washed each apple in the kitchen sink, her nurse's credo preventing her from just hosing them off outdoors like my Dad and I figured would be fine. The press is amazingly efficient, and when we weren't even half done, we had agreed that next year we have to have a family pressing out at the farm. The mess was actually minimal compared to what I thought, we hauled most of the expired, squeeze-dried fruit to my compost bin and I saved one 8 quart bucketful to make pectin with. I am letting it drip now as I write, and will pick up some rubbing alcohol later this morning to see if it gels. To test if the pectin is developed, you mix 1 t. of pectin with 2 t. rubbing alcohol. If it forms a solid mass that can be lifted up with a fork, the pectin has enough gelling power.

I made my pectin according to Linda Ziedrich and several other concurring sources online. For every pound of fruit in a large, covered pot, add two cups of water and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes, then drain through a jelly bag for at least 4 hours. Return the juice to the pot, and boil it rapidly to reduce by half. It can be stored in the freezer, or water bath processed for 10 minutes for shelf stability.

pulp, for pectin.

ready to press.

I also threw together an apple crisp this morning. I seem to never follow the same method twice when making fruit crisps this year. I didn't skin my beautiful apples, I added perhaps too much ground ginger, a tablespoon each of flour and brown sugar, and topped it off with a crisp topping which I had leftover in the freezer. I like a lot of different crumble toppings, but this one was fairly exceptional. It could be because it has a fair amount of butter in it, but I mix it up in a snap, adding everything including the yogurt to the food processor. Unlike Heidi, I don't even melt the butter, I just pulse it with the flour a few times before adding the oats. I also like to add about 1/2 c. of nuts - walnuts are a favorite of mine with apples. I usually mix up a double batch, and eyeball how much I want to include on top of a makeshift crisp. It does also freeze well.

Crisp Topping (adapted from 101 Cookbooks)

3/4 cup white whole wheat flour, AP flour, or whole wheat flour
1/3 c. butter, cut into tablespoons
3/4 c. rolled oats
up to 1/2 c. brown sugar or cane sugar
1/2 c. walnuts, pecans, hazelnuts, or other (optional)
1/2 t. or more cinnamon
pinch of salt
1/3 c. plain yogurt

In the bowl of a food processor, combine flour and butter. Pulse several times until the butter is the size of tiny peas. Add the rest of the ingredients except the yogurt and pulse to combine into a uniform texture. Add yogurt, pulse once or twice to incorporate. Use right away, store in the fridge for a day, or freeze for impulse baking.

As soon as the amber colored cider made it's way down to the waiting bucket, we all stood mesmerized, as if we had no idea that apples under pressure would indeed give up their juice. It's silly really, all of us so excited that we took little cups and stood in the crisp air drinking the best cider we've ever tasted - probably the best since we went through so much work to get it. It was so sweet, thick, tart and refreshing. We got about 4 precious gallons of cider all accounting, and we split it up pretty evenly. We let it sit to rest for several hours, and then I ladled it into jugs and canning jars - setting some aside a little more than a half gallon right away to try and open ferment for eventual vinegar. We didn't filter it into oblivion like we had seen recommended - all of us agreed that having a little sediment was perfectly fine with us.

I have had my issues with vinegar. Making "mock" flavored vinegars (out of Bragg's cider vinegar) this summer made me feel a little better, but like I've said before I felt like I was cheating. This easiest thing seems to be a great challenge for me, and I suspected that I could easily waste my good-as-gold cider trying to ferment and then vinegarize it. Fortunately, yesterday morning, I saw the bubbles of fermentation first appear. This morning, the foam is about a half inch thick, and I suspect in a couple of days I'll be able to strain it into clean jars and inoculate it with mother. Meanwhile, my other quarts of cider are in the fridge waiting to see if their fate will also be vinegar. It is my sincere hope that I can get at least a gallon of homemade cider vinegar, and I don't want to jinx myself, but it looks as if I may be on my way toward that goal.

Every time we visit, I remember how insanely lucky I am to have such amazing Parents. They get every bit as excited as I do for good food and hard work, experimenting and being together with family. As I helped my Dad hoist that press back up onto his truck (and I didn't think that I'd be able to lift it, maybe I need to start a weigh lifting regimen...), I knew exactly where I get all my quirky obsessions and experiments from. The press traveled 500 miles to my house and another 180 back to the Farm, where it will over-winter in their ample garage or outbuilding until next apple season when we will meet there and be as excited again to see such an amazingly simple thing as cider drip casually from an iron and wooden press directly into our waiting cups. In those moments of simple pleasures, I feel so full up with appreciation for life and the sweet tart of it that I can not really express it. What an amazing way to enter the Thanksgiving season.

Daring Baker Challenge October 2011: Povitica

2011-10-28T11:13:00.001-05:00

The Daring Baker’s October 2011 challenge was Povitica, hosted by Jenni of The Gingered Whisk. Povitica is a traditional Eastern European Dessert Bread that is as lovely to look at as it is to eat!

I once again somehow managed to wait until the very last minute to complete this month's challenge, but it worked out well since my Parents were coming down for a visit. I pulled it out of the oven just as they were pulling into the driveway on Wednesday - and it seemed like a long few hours for it to cool completely so we could cut in and see what it looked like.

When I saw the title of the challenge reveal, I immediately wondered if it was of Croatian desent. One of my best friends is from Croatia, and what little world travel I have done has actually taken me there firsthand. While Saša had never heard of Povitica, which is actually a Serbian word, her Grandmother made a similar rolled bread called Orehnjača. She typically rolled it with walnut or carob filling, and she made it throughout the year, not just for Christmas or other holidays.

I can see why a bread of this type could be enjoyed only for special occasions, but it actually wasn't too difficult. It is maybe a more tedious endeavor since the dough needs to be rolled so thinly, but it is such a nice dough, this isn't a nerve-wracking accomplishment. Since I enjoy making yeast breads anyway, I can see making this elegant bread throughout the colder weather seasons to enjoy with coffee or tea. It's a soft, moist loaf that I almost wanted to be sweeter (maybe because of it's similarity to a cinnamon roll in appearance), and everyone liked it, including my Husband. It's certainly a bread to make if you are looking to impress!

This is the first time I made such a rolled dough bread, but I have made similar others that weren't nearly as layered as this one. Though complex in appearance, the dough is actually a simple enriched egg and milk bread, silky and strong enough to roll nearly paper thin before spreading with a walnut filling. The instructions said to roll it as thin as possible, and when you think it has been rolled thin enough, to roll a bit thinner. I did this, surprised that the dough was strong enough to resist tearing. It felt like fabric, gently wrinkled from my floured muslin beneath it.

I ground my walnuts fairly fine, but after I added the butter, milk, and egg yolk to turn it into a paste, it wasn't nearly fine enough. I decided last minute to puree it in the Vitamix, and I was happy then with the texture. I added quite a bit more milk (and a little extra cinnamon and cocoa powder for personal preference) to get it to a spreadable consistency too. It took just a little bit of time to get it to spread out on the rolled dough. The dough was so thin that it wanted to buckle, but when I gingerly made use of an offset spatula, I had good luck.

As I did in last month's challenge, I watched a video showing the procedure before beginning. This was very helpful, since I pretty much absorbed that technique of rolling and panning the bread. It also gave me an idea of the consistency of the filling. Had I left my filling more textured, I think I'd have had trouble with the bread maintaining its shape after baking.

The recipe we were provided yielded 4 loaves, but I only made one loaf. The amounts listed below are the amounts I used for one loaf. Find the original recipe here at the Daring Kitchen.

To activate the yeast:

1/2 t. sugar
1/4 t. AP flour
2 T. warm water
1½ t. active dry yeast

Dough:

½ Cup (120 ml) Whole Milk
3 T. (43 gm) Sugar
¾ t. salt
1 Large Egg
2 T. (30 gm/1 oz) unsalted butter, melted
2 cups (280 gm) AP flour, measure first then sift, divided

Filling Ingredients:

1¾ c. (280 gm/10 oz.) ground walnuts (I measured first, then ground in the Vitamix)
¼ c. (60 ml) milk (I used 2%)
¼ c. (60 ml/58 gm/½ stick/2 oz) unsalted butter
1 large egg yolk, beaten
¼ t. vanilla extract
½ c. (115 gm/4 oz) sugar
1 t. cocoa powder (I increased to taste, probably more like 2 t.)
1 t. cinnamon (I increased to taste, also about 2 t.)

Topping:

1 egg white, beaten
2 T. sugar
melted butter, for brushing on the top after baking

Activate the yeast by mixing the ingredients in a small dish, let stand 10 minutes.

To make the dough, heat the milk up to just below boiling in a medium sized saucepan, stirring constantly so that a film does not form on the top of the milk. You want it hot enough to scald you, but not boiling. Allow to cool slightly, until it is about 110°F/43°C.

In a large bowl, mix the scalded milk, sugar, and the salt until combined. Add the beaten eggs, yeast mixture, melted butter, and 2 cups of flour. Blend thoroughly, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead, gradually adding a bit of additional flour a little at a time, until the dough is smooth and does not stick. The dough should feel soft, and not sticky at all.

Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover loosely with a layer of plastic wrap and then a kitchen towel, and let rise an hour and a half in a warm place, until doubled in size.

Meanwhile, make the nut filling. In a large bowl mix together the ground walnuts, sugar, cinnamon and cocoa. Heat the milk and butter to boiling. Pour the liquid over the nut/sugar mixture. Add the egg yolk and vanilla and mix thoroughly. Allow to stand at room temperature until ready to be spread on the dough. (If the mixture thickens, add more milk - enough so that the dough is easily spreadable on the dough.)

After the dough has completed the first rise, spread a clean sheet or cloth (non-pilling) over your entire table so that it is covered. I used a large piece of unbleached muslin. Sprinkle it with a couple of tablespoons to a handful of flour (use flour sparingly), and rub into fabric to prevent the dough from sticking. Place the dough on the fabric and roll the dough out with a rolling pin, starting in the middle and working your way out, until it is very thin. Aim for as thin as you can roll it, and try to keep the shape as rectangular as possible. (As you work, continually pick up the dough from the table, not only to help in stretching it out, but also to make sure that it isn’t sticking. When you think it the dough is thin enough, try to get it a little thinner. It should be so thin that you can see the color and perhaps the pattern of the sheet underneath.)

Spoon filling evenly over dough and spread in a thin layer. Leave a 1/4 to 1/2 inch border around the edges. Using the fabric to help, roll up the dough like a jelly roll into a long rope. Place the rope in a well buttered pan using the method described in the video as I did, or in a modified "U" shape as the challenge host did. Brush the top of the coiled loaf with the egg white, and sprinkle the 2 T. of sugar on in a uniform manner. Let rest, lightly covered with plastic wrap, for 30 minutes when the oven preheats to 350.

Remove plastic wrap from dough and place into the preheated oven and bake for 15 minutes. Turn down the oven temperature to 300, and bake for an additional 45 minutes, or until done. (Tapping on the top of the bread should sound hollow, crust should be nicely browned.) (Check the bread at 30 minutes to be sure it's not getting too brown. You may cover it with foil if you need to.)

Remove bread from oven and brush with melted butter. Allow to cool completely in the pan before trying to remove. Remember the bread is very heavy, and it needs to be able to hold its own weight, which is difficult when it's warm and fresh from the oven. Allowing it to cool in the pan helps the loaf to hold its shape.

It is recommended that the best way to cut Povitica loaves into slices is by turning the loaf upside down and slicing with a serrated knife.

During last month's challenge, I lamented that the only rolling pin I had was the one that Julia Child had casually tossed over her shoulder and discounted as useless. Between then and now, I inherited my great grandmothers full size, heavy maple pin, and it did work wonders with this project. I'm lucky to inherit such things with meaning and usefulness, the best kind of inheritance in my opinion...

When time is marked in Daring Baker Challenges, the months seem to fly by. This was a great choice for a challenge, maybe one of my favorites since I had never heard of it, and the results are so unique. I hope you will all pay Jenni a visit at The Gingered Whisk, as well as check out many more amazing adaptations of Povitica on the Daring Blogroll.

A New Direction and Ivy's Swedish Rye Crackers

2011-10-21T16:05:00.015-05:00

I think it's curious that you can make almost anything from scratch, but nothing impresses people more than to tell them you made the crackers. It may be a preconceived notion that cracker origins are inexplicable: mystical, crisp things that elves or independent hippies in Vermont are lovingly packing into cardboard boxes. Maybe people consider that such things are not able to be made by human hands, but making preservative free, healthy snacks can become a rhythm backbone of the kitchen. Nothing is better than to open the pantry door and see a few jars of homemade crackers, fully deserving of your homemade dips, spreads, jams or jellies - things you can just pop out onto a plate when unexpected company arrives.

I really do enjoy making crackers, in fact I forgot how many different types I have tried and even posted about here until I searched 'crackers' in my blog search box on the right side of the page. I have some serious favorites, like the Gluten Free Multigrain Crackers or Alton Brown's Seedy Crisps - both of which are in regular rotation. Just as the school year began and I felt a lonely hole in my first few days of new solitary independence, my friend Deena emailed me and asked if I'd be interested in testing recipes, and if so if she might give my name to a friend of hers who was writing a cookbook all about crackers. I excitedly told her yes! Shortly after, I was acquainted with Ivy Manning, a cookbook author, recipe developer, and former Wisconsinite living now in Portland, Oregon.

Our first exchanges made me even more excited to be able to help. Ivy seemed oddly like me, living with a husband who is a "picky eater", fully passionate about food, and very busy. She began emailing me her recipes a few at a time, which I double checked for weights and volumes as I baked, and I tried to give her honest feedback about them. One of the first recipes I tested was for these slightly time consuming Swedish Rye Crackers - some that at the time I thought were good, but now they have grown on me so much I think I'll likely keep a batch around for emergencies on most occasions. They are very crisp, hard in fact, and they store like a dream. I've had the same batch in a half gallon canning jar for about a month and they only seem to improve. This week I ate them with a little of this incredible Walnut Lentil Pate, which I know I have mentioned before. As I ate them, I realized this cracker was the perfect pre-dinner munch, and they cemented my already warm feelings of rye flour.

Ivy decided not to use this version of Swedish Rye Crackers in her book, and granted me permission to post about them here, since I feel they deserve to have a special place in a cracker-maker's repertoire.

These are hard, crunchy crackers. If you are a fan of Rykrisp crackers or anything super crunchy, you will love them. Even though they have a good amount of rye flour, I feel like they are also distinctly wheaty in flavor. They are great for mopping up soup or mashed potatoes if you've forgotten the bread, and are good with jelly and peanut butter too - though personally I'd probably nix the caraway seeds if you plan on serving with something sweet.

Swedish Rye Crackers (Ivy Manning)
about 3 1/2 dozen crackers

2 1/2 t. active dry yeast
1 1/2 c. warm water
1 1/3 c. bread flour, plus additional for rolling
1 t. fine sea salt
2 1/3 c. rye flour
2 t. caraway seeds (I only put seeds on about half the batch, they are good with or without as you prefer)
Kosher salt, for topping crackers

In the bowl of a stand mixer, or in a large mixing bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water. Add the bread flour, and beat with the paddle attachment on medium speed for 2 minutes, or 50 strokes with a wooden spoon if mixing by hand.

Stir in salt, and gradually add the rye flour. Beat on medium low speed for 4 minutes. If kneading by hand, transfer the dough to a large ziptop bag, squeeze out the air, seal bag, and knead for 6 minutes. Do not add additional flour. Turn the bag inside out to free the dough from the bag, it will be sticky.

Coat a large bowl with oil and add the dough. Cover with plastic wrap, and let the dough rise for 90 minutes in a warm place.

Preheat the oven to 375. Turn the dough out onto a lightly flour dusted surface and divide into three pieces. Gently pat the pieces into rectangles about 1/2 inch thick. Roll one piece of dough out until it's about 1/8 inch thick, picking up the dough and rotating it frequently to make sure it isn't sticking. using a pastry or pizza wheel, trim the irregular edges and cut the dough into 4x2 inch rectangles. Place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Repeat with remaining dough to fill a second baking sheet. Prick the crackers all over with a chopstick, then spray them lightly with water, sprinkle with caraway seeds (if using) and press them in lightly so they will adhere. Cover loosely with plastic wrap, and set aside for 30 minutes. (You can re-roll the scraps once.)

Uncover the crackers and bake, rotating the sheets from top to bottom and front to back once during baking. Baking will take 25-35 minutes depending on the thinness of your cracker. (You can always take them out, and then re-bake them if you think they need to go longer.) The crackers should be browned around the edges, smell toasty, and be dry to the touch. Transfer to a cooling rack to cool completely, about 1 hour. Store in an airtight container for 2 weeks or longer...

(I baked a couple of 1/2 inch by 4 inch pieces of re-rolled dough scrap, and they puffed up hollow. Next time I make them, I may try cutting a whole tray full this way...)

So many times I wonder what I should be doing with myself. I really am content to be a homemaker, chronicling my adventures every so often so I can share some of my excitement with others. But sometimes I do get frustrated, I think I should be "gainfully employed", and then wonder what it is that I should be really be doing so that I can continue to enjoy myself as much as I have since I became a mother 5 years ago.

I know I'm not going to be the next Martha Stewart, but maybe I've found a niche in the behind the scenes of cookbook writing. This may be my first foray into this field, but it's one I hope I can figure out how to grow into more. It feels so good to see the the other side of the cookbook writing process, the amazing work that goes into it by an author, and the trials, successes and failures, and evolution of recipes. I have been reveling in cracker testing in part because it is a subject matter that is really appealing to me, but more because I feel good to be a bit unseen, a stealth baker who may just show up at your door with a little overflow of delicious kitchen bounty.

Now that Winter is on his way I feel I'll have so much more time to read, and I'm looking forward to reading more of Ivy's cookbooks: The Farm to Table Cookbook and The Adaptable Feast. Her book on crackers is scheduled for Spring 2013, but meanwhile you can find Ivy at her website. It's going to be a great book, just judging from my sneak peak testing... One recipe in particular I've made 3 times already, just because it was so delicious.

I look forward to the emails with little attachments, and like an archeologist who patiently brushes the sand away from stone bones, I have remember to discipline myself to follow instructions and be methodical. It's all a great lesson and learning experience, and I feel so thankful to have had it drop in my lap.

Fall Preserving: Grape Jellies and Other Tales of Grapeness

2011-10-16T12:45:00.011-05:00

You may remember that this year I've been so inspired by Linda Ziedrich and her book The Joys of Jams, Jellies, and Other Sweet Preserves that I've made nearly all of my jams and jellies this year without commercial pectin. I love the textures of these preserves so much more than their boxed pectin counterparts, and because they usually have less sugar, the flavor of the fruit really seems to shine through in an exotic way.

I have loved her book so much, that all season I felt like I first procured the fruit, and then turned to the section discussing the fruit to decide what to do with it. When I got a half bushel of Concord grapes from my Parents, I had already earmarked enough grapes for one batch of boxed pectin-free jelly, an amount for drinking vinegar, and some for grape molasses.

I have never really heard of grape molasses, never have I tasted it or do I have any idea what the finished texture should be like. In fact, my finished product is still in a bowl in my fridge (about a week now), since I am still unsure what to do with it. It's riddled with tartaric acid crystals, but it is also thickened, almost "pulpy", and painfully grapey. There is no added sugar, so the grapeness of the grapes is just really intensified and luxurious. Just lifting the lid makes the air feel purple.

I may take it out later today and boil it down a little more, I may can some of it into small jars for gifts - or I may just keep it all in the fridge and commit to eating it over the next 6 months myself. Yesterday, I cooked down a grocery bag full of Cortland apples and turned them into sauce, I'm waiting until tomorrow to can it all. If I can find a definitive authority on the acidity of the Concord grape, I may add some to my pints of applesauce. The idea of purple applesauce is very exciting to me!

an old French food mill that my Mom gave me: how I derived my grape must for the grape molasses, since I have no fruit press.

With several fruits I've worked with this Summer, I've made a drinking vinegar that I have been in love with. So far the cherry vinegar is my favorite, but I have a feeling this grape vinegar will take a close second after I strain and sweeten it. I have used the same method for each fruit or berry, one outlined in the River Cottage Preserves Handbook. I don't cook down it into a more syrupy vinegar, instead I barely heat it - just enough to fully dissolve the sugar. Since I use raw apple cider vinegar, I am able to keep it raw this way. It's great on salad, but I have to admit, I really have just been drinking it 2 tablespoons at a time in sparkling water. (The elderberry version, I save for when I feel a cold coming on. I'm convinced that it shortens the duration of a cold or prevents it from fully forming altogether. When I took it 2 times a day after my first cold of the season was underway, my cold was gone completely after 2 days. I'm not making it up... and I hope it wasn't a fluke!)

To make it, soak 2 1/4 lbs. of fruit or berry in 2 1/2 c. of raw cider vinegar for 5-7 days. Strain out the fruit (I press it to get all the juices). For every cup of vinegar, add 1 c. of sugar and heat just enough to dissolve the sugar. Yes, it is sweet, but you don't need much to flavor a drink or a vegetable, and you can comfort yourself with the idea of consuming raw, healthful vinegar.

With the molasses and vinegars done, I turned to the natural pectin of green apple to make a spectacular small batch of grape jelly. The flavor is so clean and it's so gently sweet that I can't help but be smitten. I have a precious 3 jar batch, plus just a tad shy of a 4th full jar of runover. The set can only be described as lovely and old fashioned. I'll have to grab more grapes next year, since I prefer this tenfold over conventional high-sugar box-pectin grape jelly.

natural pectin grape jelly.

With just a few pounds of grapes remaining, I made this grape focaccia from Mostly Foodstuffs. I had been looking forward to it, and I wasn't disappointed. It's better than any focaccia I've ever eaten; I was addicted to the sweet/salty/grapey combination, and how it all pulled together so well because of the rosemary. It was also the fastest yeast dough I've ever made. It may require your lazy attention for the first 30-40 minutes of it's life, but it is so self-sufficient it practically makes itself. If you can get your hands on a cup of Concords, make it while you can!

The combination of rosemary and Concord grape was such a revelation to me that I immediately soaked the last of the grape concentrate I had already made in the fridge with 3-4 large sprigs of rosemary needles. I let it sit another 24 hours before making it into a conventional, high sugar jelly. I wasn't sure I'd like it as well after having such a spectacular luck with the boxed pectin-free jelly, but I did. It was very sweet and the texture was different, but it did taste like rosemary in that resinous, "what is that flavor" kind of way. I got 8 jars, too... perfect for gift giving (with some aged Wisconsin cheddar, I think).

Concord Grape and Rosemary Jelly (adapted from the Certo liquid pectin insert)
7 half pints, plus runover

4 c. Concord grape concentrate (made from 3-4 lbs grapes, steamed and strained through a jelly bag)
3-4 large sprigs of rosemary, needles removed
1 pouch liquid pectin
7 c. granulated sugar (1341 g.)

Stir rosemary needles into the grape concentrate, and let sit for 24 hours to infuse. Strain out the needles.

Sterilize jars (I used 8 half pints). I like using the oven for sterilization now - I put the clean jars on a baking sheet and slip it into the cold oven. Heat the oven to 250 and hold for at least a half an hour. Then, I grab the jars a couple at a time as I'm filling with a potholder.

Put the grape concentrate and sugar into a preserving pot. Heat and stir over medium high heat until the mixture comes to a rolling boil. Add pectin, and return to a boil for exactly one minute. (Refer to insert instructions.) Quickly ladle into sterilized jars, add lids and rings, and process in a hot water bath for 5 minutes. Remove to a resting towel, and do not disturb for at least 24 hours.

Interspersed with all the grapeness, I also managed to work my way through a bushel of tomatoes last week. I didn't need to worry about quarts of whole tomatoes or pints of spaghetti sauce, since my Mom did both of those for me. I felt like I had those tomatoes to really do whatever I wanted with, and since they were canner's seconds, I was just a little at the mercy of the big, watery, tomatoes. I settled on well-cooked-down things like another batch of my favorite Tomato Jam, a 3/4 batch of Classic Tomato Ketchup (a first for me, and I loved it!), and I made the last 8 lbs. or so into a mildly spicy vegetable "Bloody Mary Mix" which worked well with the consistency of my tomato variety. It seemed like a busy preserving week, but I was happy with everything, and my shelves feel considerably more full.

What continues to stand out to me is that Concord Grape and Rosemary Jelly, and I think in the depths of Winter I can probably make a plain focaccia bread and slather it with the jelly to reminisce the flavor of this Fall's flavor epiphany.

Sourdoughizing: Applesauce Cake

2011-10-13T14:19:00.005-05:00

It's actually been a long time since I've made dessert with my sourdough starter. It used to be, that I felt so guilty about my excesses of starter that I was attempting to put it in everything. But, that was before the perfection of sourdough pancakes. Now, most mornings the Kiddo tiptoes into the kitchen moments after waking and asks, "Is the starter good?" If I've fed it the day before, which oftentimes I have, then I say yes - and he immediately goes to the closet to grab his footstool to help me mix up pancakes. 100% sourdough starter pancakes take less time to mix than time to heat the pan, and I couldn't be more thankful that my picky child loves them as much as I do.

Now that Fall seems finally to have arrived, the onset of apple season has me trying to use the final few jars of last years applesauce from the shelves. Yesterday I couldn't help but wonder if fermenting sourdough starter with a pint of applesauce and flour would produce an even better version of the Spanish Bar Cake that I told you all about last year. I would say that this is the finest sourdough cake I've made to date, and no one would know any different that it is in fact healthier for you due to the long fermentation time. (We'll just ignore the sugar content, ok?) This cake is so apple-y, you would swear you added fresh and not canned sauce, and the cake is so moist you would swear it had a pound of butter in it. But this is oil cake friends, and coconut oil is my miracle oil of choice for producing stellar results in baked goods. If you have a cupful of 100% hydration starter in need of using, give it a try. You will then bask in the chill of Fall with ample apple sustenance to carry you through a brisk day.

100% hydration starter is sourdough starter that you feed equal amounts of flour and water. I keep my starter well fed, since I am a habitual baker, but if you keep yours in the fridge, I'd recommend giving it a feeding or two before baking with it. I let my cake ferment for about 8 hours before continuing, but you probably would have a bit of play on either side of that time frame. If you mixed it after supper, you could easily continue with the baking after breakfast - or if you allow a few minutes in the morning, you could bake it in the evening as I did.

Sourdough Applesauce Cake (adapted from this Spanish Bar Cake I posted last year)
1 9x13 cake

For the ferment:

1 c. 100% hydration starter
1 pint applesauce (about 2 c.)
2 1/4 c. AP flour

To continue the cake:

2 c. sugar
scant 1/2 c. coconut oil, melted and cooled slightly (or same amount of any cooking oil)
2 eggs
1/4 t. baking powder
1 1/2 t. baking soda
3/4 t. cinnamon (I use Cassia)
1/2 t. ground cloves
1/2 t. ground allspice
pinch salt
1 c. raisins, optional
1/2 chopped walnuts, optional

Combine the starter and applesauce in a large bowl and mix well. Add the flour, stir well to mix, cover and leave at room temperature to ferment at least 7 hours before continuing.

When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 350 and butter a 9x13 pan.

Combine the remaining ingredients, except the raisins and walnuts if using, and mix well. Add to the fermented applesauce mixture, which should have risen considerably. Mix well by hand with a sturdy wooden spoon or a dough whisk until well blended. Stir in optional raisins and walnuts and stir just enough to disperse in the batter.

Pour into the prepared pan, and bake for 35-45 minutes until brown and a tester comes out clean from the center. Cool completely before frosting with maple cream cheese frosting if desired.

I will likely keep playing with this recipe. It's really one of my favorite things, since it is so deliciously reminiscent of Fall, but it also because it reminds me of my Gram. It is as good with the morning coffee as it is with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the evening. Even die-hard chocolate cake fans like this simple spice cake, and being successfully sourdoughized makes me more happy than I can relate. Does this mean that cake season is upon me? I think so. I'd better go brew another pot of coffee, since it looks like rain for the next few days...

This post has been Yeastspotted.

One Year of Real Bread.

2011-10-08T19:33:00.010-05:00

It's hard for me to believe that it has now been an entire year since I grew my sourdough culture. I thought of this since my Parents came to visit me this week, bringing with them grapes, tomatoes, and pumpkins for me to play with. When we first moved as a family to the farm in 1988, we were excited to have a variety of already established, old-timey things like apples, grapes, and raspberries right in our yard. Grapes in particular were exciting to us, since they can't really thrive up north where we had come from. We had both wild grapes and Concords, and my Mom has canned grape juice and grape jelly pretty much every year since. I was busy most of the day today with grapes, and will likely talk about them at length later, but smelling that deep purple of them just reinforced my love of bread - how grapes remind me now of the symbiotic relationship between wild yeast and fruit, fermentation and bread.

While I have always had a deep love for all things carbohydrate, and have never been shy of yeast bakery, I never would have dreamed that it was possible for me, amateur home baker, to turn out wild, natural leaven breads one at a time with relative ease. Those grapes that assisted me on my favorite fermentation adventure ever are a continual reminder of the relationship between the baker and the ingredient, and the realization that what comes from my hands is really maybe only half skill and the other half a credit to the powers of the unseen world. No wonder bread has such mystical and spiritual connotation - the more I make it the more I am solidly convinced in the power of the Almighty.

While I have written many posts on bread and my experiments with it, I wrote them all with the passion of new discovery. As I have worked my way through different books, different methods, various ratios and flours, I have found little tips with each loaf. Having baked through an entire year with wild yeast, I can say (from my personal experience, anyway) that Summer bread is tough to master. Now that the air is thinner, crisp with impending Autumn, my excitement for bread making is again in full swing - the past three or four loaves in particular knocking my proverbial socks right off.

firm starter, just out of the fridge.

I am still using the ratios in Peter Reinhart's book Crust and Crumb, and yes, I am still available if he'd like me to personally go door to door and promote it. All Summer, I had been making his recipe for Country Style Levain (which a few other loaves interspersed in there too). Generally, it was good. Big, airy holes and a nice round sour flavor, sometimes it felt a little wet in the middle... but I chalked it up to a "custardy interior" and ate almost all of it regardless of the varying degrees of perfection.

But a week or so ago, I went back to his slightly different "San Francisco" Sourdough, and I am newly smitten, as if I had never had such success with bread before. Both aforementioned breads use a base Peter calls a Firm Starter. The build begins with the firm starter a day or two prior to mixing up bread, and the firm starter remains viable for about 3 days in the fridge (longer if you refresh it with additional water and flour). I'm not quite sure if it is a combination of the weather, the hint of malt extract, or my decision to autolyse my loaves, but these breads have been so great they deserve their own billboard. The crumb is tight, absent of airy holes, but still with a bit of that wet custard feel. The crust is particularly amazing: crisp and caramel-y, making a proper mess of my floor when I go to slice into it. It's the best of all bread worlds, at least for now.

it windowpanes like nobody's business...

I have made this recipe before, though the results were not mind-boggling, and hence I had moved on to the Country Levain. Why it has decided to work for me now, I am not sure. I am beyond excited that for the first time ever, I have been able to use a well-floured brotform without having the loaf stick at all. The loaf does not deflate when I gingerly tip it over, even though each time I fully expect it to. I invert it onto the counter, then slash and move it to my preheated cast-iron pot, and it stays proudly puffed, living and breathing like I remember Nancy Silverton referring to it doing - and I never understood what she meant until now.

Since I usually have 100% hydration starter in largish amounts, because the firm starter lasts a few days in the fridge, and because I like using the firm starter in things besides bread (like this pizza dough), I usually mix up a larger batch of it. I'm still working on the optimum feeding schedule for my starter(s)... since I don't keep my main (100% hydration) starter in the refrigerator unless I absolutely have to, I feed it every day which sometimes can feel a tad wasteful. The build time for this bread can be shortened, and flavor sacrifice is minimal, so go ahead and bake it if you need bread!

Maybe I'm not really a true bread baker since I let my KitchenAid do my mixing. Had I the resources of a sturdy wood bench, I would likely do the hand kneading since I probably do need the exercise. You can make this bread by hand, just make sure to knead it until the gluten develops enough that you can spread a thin windowpane without tearing, and you'll be fine. This loaf is a good size for a standard 5 quart cast iron pot, which is how I prefer to bake to get a good crust. You can use a different baking method, and then form other bread shapes.

"Wisconsin" Sourdough (adapted for volume and method from Peter Reinhart)

For the Firm Starter:

1 c. 100% hydration starter
1 c. bread flour
enough water to make it form into a ball - a few tablespoons

To make the Firm Starter: mix the starter ingredients in a mixing bowl. When they form a ball, turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead just until all the ingredients are incorporated, and dough forms a smooth ball. Place dough in a clean bowl, cover, and let ferment at room temperature for 4 hours. Then transfer to the fridge overnight or about 8 hours. The firm starter will be active for about 3 days. (If you leave it longer and need to refresh it, add 1 c. flour and 1/3 c. water or as much water to bring it back to roughly the same consistency. You can easily double the ingredients to allow for additional firm starter.)

For the Bread:

9 1/3 oz. firm starter, taken out of the fridge at least 1 hour before you want to use it
10 oz. bread flour
1/2 t. barley malt extract
6 oz. water
heaping t. salt

Take the firm starter, break it into pieces, and combine it with everything else *Except Salt* in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook or, if working by hand, in a bowl. When it just comes together into a ball, cover the mixer with a towel, and let it rest for 20 minutes.

Sprinkle the salt over the top, and start the mixer. Knead for 8-10 minutes, until a golf ball size piece of dough will pass the windowpane test. (The dough is a little sticky, just drop it into the flour bin before trying to pass the test.) Transfer the dough to a lightly floured board, and give it a couple of kneads by hand to form it into a nice ball, then put it in a clean bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, or a plastic bag, and let rise at room temperature for 4 hours. It should show "signs of swelling", it doesn't need to truly double in size. If it seems to be rising faster due to a warmer room temperature, still let it ferment for the full 4 hours.

Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured board, and shape into a round loaf. (Try to "pull" the dough tightly, so that it forms a nice, compact ball. Pinch the bottom seams together if need be. It shouldn't spread out on you after you've formed a tight ball, that "skin" is what prevents the loaf from growing into a less desirable and larger shape.)

Lightly dust the loaf with flour, and place it in a floured brotform or circular colander lined with a linen towel that has been rubbed with flour. (Be sure that you have the smooth size facing down, and the crimped bottom side facing up.) Place the formed loaf in a plastic bag and let it ferment at room temperature for 3-4 hours, until about 1 1/2 times it's original size.

(You can now bake it... or let it sit overnight in the fridge well wrapped in the plastic bag. I've left it in the fridge for as long as 16 hours, and it still baked up fine.)

Remove the loaf from the fridge 1 hour before baking. Preheat the oven to 475 with a lidded cast iron pot inside. Carefully tip the loaf out onto a lightly floured surface and slash the top.

Transfer to the cast iron pot, and bake with the lid on for 30 minutes. Remove the lid, and continue to bake 10-15 minutes longer, until the crust has the color you like.

Let cool for at least an hour before cutting into it...

hot bread.

More than any other bread I've made, this one really "sings". Singing bread is the ultimate reward and one you can quiet your 5-year-old son with; it is the reaction of the hot loaf hitting the cooler room temperature air, the process of the exterior cooling and contracting. The fissures it creates in the loaf are pretty interesting, the cracks appearing in this particular bread are deeper than any other I've made. And like I said earlier, I can't be sure if I can take credit for any of it.

cool bread.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I can enjoy wheat. When I run into more and more people with gluten allergies, I really feel a particular sadness that I can't share this kind of bread epiphany with someone. When I stand proud over a cooling bread, when I try to identify that wheaty, toasty smell and can't find the proper word, when I can't stand it any longer, and cut the crusty end off the loaf to eat before dinner... I really remember to appreciate this ancient thing that no longer seems unattainable to me. I enjoy every single bite. I still have so much to learn, but now I feel empowered with competence: a year of wild yeast under my belt, and the world is my oyster.

This post has been YeastSpotted.

Daring Baker Challenge September 2011: Croissants

2011-09-27T11:21:00.006-05:00

The Daring Bakers go retro this month! Thanks to one of our very talented non-blogging members, Sarah, the Daring Bakers were challenged to make Croissants using a recipe from the Queen of French Cooking, none other than Julia Child!

Before you read any further, you must watch this. Really. Take 29 minutes, and really enjoy it. I sat for a rare half hour and watched it, smiling the whole while. Not much more could entice you to give croissants a whirl for yourself, after watching it yesterday I certainly felt well equipped to tackle these pastries.

I have never made croissants before, but thanks to the Daring Bakers, I have made one other laminated dough: puff pastry. Other than being extremely fun to say, laminated doughs are fun to work with - enormous rewards coming not from intense labor, but from a fair amount of anticipation. Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking is, according to our host (and her copy of Larousse Culinary Encyclopedia), technically more Viennese than French, but wherever it hails from, it is absolutely perfect.

I started my batch of croissants yesterday around 11 a.m., and by 9 o'clock this morning, I was enjoying the first fruits of my patience. The yeast dough is incredibly active for only containing 1 1/4 t. of active dry yeast, twice it forced it's way through the plastic wrap when it was under refrigeration. The first 3 rises happen without the butter, then the flattened butter is made malleable with a mallet and rolled out encased in the soft. This was the first time I used a small rectangle of my Mom's countertop as a substitute for a marble slab. (It was leftover from her kitchen renovation, and I have had it for quite a few years now just taking up space really...) I wished it were larger so I could have rolled directly on it instead of on my maple board, it keeps it's coolness well, and aids in keeping the butter cool too. If I can ever build a dream kitchen, I will include a marble slab for rolling pastries.

The best thing about the Julia Child video above is her descriptions of her rolling pins. The rolling pin I have is the pin she describes as useless, the one she doesn't know why she keeps at all. It's about 7 inches long, and I don't even know where I got it. I've had it so long in part because I just never bought a large pin and in part because I like that the small size works in my small counter space and fits in my small drawers. This challenge, however, makes me confident to invest in a new, heavier, pin. A pin with some heft would have helped me have an easier go of rolling out this dough to be sure.

prior to rising.

There are many points during the making of these croissants that you can pause the process until you have time to get to it. I'd suggest making them on a day that you'll be home, then holding them overnight until you can bake them for breakfast, since the final roll and rise takes just over an hour. I loved that there were more than 50 steps to this process - so I have included them here. You can also find a printable version of this recipe here. It really reads more complicated than it is.

Croissants (Julia Child via the Daring Kitchen)

1¼ t. dry-active yeast
3 T. (45 ml) warm water (less than 100°F/38°C)
1 t. sugar
1 3/4 c. (225 g.) of strong plain flour (bread flour)
2 t. sugar
1½ t. salt
½ c. milk
2 T. tasteless oil (I used grapeseed oil)
½ c. (1 stick) chilled, unsalted butter
1 egg, for egg was

1. Mix the yeast, warm water, and first teaspoon of sugar in a small bowl. Leave aside for the yeast and sugar to dissolve and the yeast to foam up a little.
2. Measure out the other ingredients
3. Heat the milk until tepid (either in the microwave or a saucepan), and dissolve in the salt and remaining sugar
4. Place the flour in a large bowl.
5. Add the oil, yeast mixture, and milk mixture to the flour
6. Mix all the ingredients together using the rubber spatula, just until all the flour is incorporated
7. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface, and let it rest a minute while you wash out the bowl
8. Knead the dough eight to ten times only. The best way is as Julia Child does it in the video (above). It’s a little difficult to explain, but essentially involves smacking the dough on the counter (lots of fun if you are mad at someone) and removing it from the counter using the pastry scraper.
9. Place the dough back in the bowl, and place the bowl in the plastic bag.
10. Leave the bowl at approximately 75°F/24°C for three hours, or until the dough has tripled in size.

11. After the dough has tripled in size, remove it gently from the bowl, pulling it away from the sides of the bowl with your fingertips.
12. Place the dough on a lightly floured board or countertop, and use your hands to press it out into a rectangle about 8 by 12 inches (20cm by 30cm).
13. Fold the dough rectangle in three, like a letter (fold the top third down, and then the bottom third up)
14. Place the dough letter back in the bowl, and the bowl back in the plastic bag.
15. Leave the dough to rise for another 1.5 hours, or until it has doubled in size. This second rise can be done overnight in the fridge

16. Place the double-risen dough onto a plate and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Place the plate in the fridge while you prepare the butter.
17. Once the dough has doubled, it’s time to incorporate the butter
18. Place the block of chilled butter on a chopping board.
19. Using the rolling pin, beat the butter down a little, till it is quite flat.
20. Use the heel of your hand to continue to spread the butter until it is smooth. You want the butter to stay cool, but spread easily.

21. Remove the dough from the fridge and place it on a lightly floured board or counter. Let it rest for a minute or two.
22. Spread the dough using your hands into a rectangle about 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
23. Remove the butter from the board, and place it on the top half of the dough rectangle.
24. Spread the butter all across the top two-thirds of the dough rectangle, but keep it ¼ inch (6 mm) across from all the edges.

25. Fold the top third of the dough down, and the bottom third of the dough up.
26. Turn the dough package 90 degrees, so that the top flap is to your right (like a book). (Photo 19)
27. Roll out the dough package (gently, so you don’t push the butter out of the dough) until it is again about 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
28. Again, fold the top third down and the bottom third up.
29. Wrap the dough package in plastic wrap, and place it in the fridge for 2 hours.

30. After two hours have passed, take the dough out of the fridge and place it again on the lightly floured board or counter.
31. Tap the dough with the rolling pin, to deflate it a little
32. Let the dough rest for 8 to 10 minutes
33. Roll the dough package out till it is 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
34. Fold in three, as before
35. Turn 90 degrees, and roll out again to 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
36. Fold in three for the last time, wrap in plastic, and return the dough package to the fridge for two more hours (or overnight, with something heavy on top to stop it from rising)

37. It’s now time to cut the dough and shape the croissants
38. First, lightly butter your baking sheet so that it is ready
39. Take the dough out of the fridge and let it rest for ten minutes on the lightly floured board or counter
40. Roll the dough out into a 20 by 5 inch rectangle (51 cm by 12½ cm).
41. Cut the dough into two rectangles (each 10 by 5 inches (25½ cm by 12½ cm))
42. Place one of the rectangles in the fridge, to keep the butter cold
43. Roll the second rectangle out until it is 15 by 5 inches (38 cm by 12½ cm).
44. Cut the rectangle into three squares (each 5 by 5 inches (12½ cm by 12½ cm))
45. Place two of the squares in the fridge
46. The remaining square may have shrunk up a little bit in the meantime. Roll it out again till it is nearly square
47. Cut the square diagonally into two triangles.
48. Stretch the triangle out a little, so it is not a right-angle triangle, but more of an isosceles.
49. Starting at the wide end, roll the triangle up towards the point, and curve into a crescent shape.
50. Place the unbaked croissant on the baking sheet
51. Repeat the process with the remaining squares of dough, creating 12 croissants in total.
52. Leave the tray of croissants, covered lightly with plastic wrap, to rise for 1 hour

53. Preheat the oven to very hot 475°F/240°C/gas mark 9.
54. Mix the egg with a teaspoon of water
55. Spread the egg wash across the tops of the croissants.
56. Put the croissants in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until the tops are browned nicely
57. Take the croissants out of the oven, and place them on a rack to cool for 10 minutes before serving.

These smelled delicious as they baked, were feather-light and buttery, crispy and flaky: perfect croissants. After they cooled ten minutes, I ate only one. To mark this occasion, I opened the first of the Summer preserves, choosing the Limey Rum Cherry Preserves to eat with such a powerhouse of a pastry. It seemed French enough to me!

In the Moments before Autolyse...

2011-09-25T12:49:00.003-05:00

This morning after I had just got home from church, and was standing over my KitchenAid to continue a bread that began yesterday, I got the text message than my Gram had passed away a half hour before. I knew this day was close, and that her body was rapidly failing, but I still read the words with a tinge of disbelief. I haven't lost many people in my family, none so close as she was to me, but the grief I felt seemed somehow laced with joy. Joy that she is in a new and better place, joy that she is no longer in pain, joy that a flood of good memories could overwhelm me.

I think grandparents are so tremendously important, and my Gram was certainly an amazing woman and an important fixture in our lives. Since our houses were only about a half mile apart, we saw her nearly daily all throughout my childhood. She provided us with goat's milk in glass bottles with paper stoppers, she knit us woolens from her flock of sheep, she shared the bounty of her garden and her pantry. After I started 1st grade, my brother and I would get off the school bus at her house after school, where there would be remnants of lunch for us to pillage from the Shop kitchenette for a snack. (My Gram and my uncles ran an upholstery business, and my Gram brought lunch over from her next-door home every day. There were always leftovers.)

My Mom was the only girl, the middle of two older and two younger brothers, and even as a child I could sense the bond between a mother and her only daughter, something I have come to know with my own Mom, but something I'll never know with a child of my own. It somehow felt very fitting that I read this news when crafting a bread, the backbone of my daily life, the staple I am most proud to make myself and one that my Gram was very proficient in herself.

There isn't a whole lot that hasn't already been written about bread, sometimes I feel like it's a subject that is somewhat exhausted though nonetheless interesting. The bread I have made for the past year has been mostly "slow" bread, wild yeast bread that is at the mercy of it's environment, a product as much of the weather as of my contributions to it. I can never tell if it will work the way I want, but strangely it is always edible - something good always coming from what at times seems like disaster. The loss I'm feeling now is not that different, the timing of mixing a new loaf just as the old one was down to it's last slice: it is the inevitable circle of life that propels me forward as a cog in it.

It could feel insignificant, each person moving in his or her own circles, briefly moving along the motions of life that sometimes connect us and sometimes do not. But people like my Gram bury themselves deep inside you, the twinkle in her blue eyes that never dimmed even as she could no longer see. She had a profound love of life and the ability to make the most of it, be it with meager rations or with plenty. I have a feeling that she touched more people than she realized, and I know she meant more to me than I ever probably conveyed. She has left an incredible impression on me, a stellar example of how to be independent and productive as well as faithful and diligent.

The bread that continues to rise now and will bake later tonight will continue to remind me of her, and I'm figuring the number of loaves out of the oven for the next several weeks will as well. Let them be a testament to her life, her steadfast and sureness, all of her reminders to me through her quiet ways to live my life well, so that I have no regrets at the end.

On (Home) Butchery.

2011-09-20T21:19:00.008-05:00

I well remember my last tetanus shot. It was Fall of 2003, and I was making a pizza after arriving home late from work. I was slicing some green pepper when my hand slipped, and I sliced an incision in my left thumb so deep that it made my eyes well up with tears. The reason I remember so vividly is that I have a phobia of hospitals, needles, and anything medically related in general, and I remember trying to convince the doctor who looked at my swollen, still bleeding digit that I didn't need one.

"It's a clean cut," I said. "I just have some really sharp knives." My clever argument didn't work, and I clearly remember him assuring me that I would recall that the last tetanus I had would be in 2003. Those knives are the ones I still have, a Christmas gift from my parents the year prior, a Wusthof classic 7 piece set. And almost the same number of years later, I still bear a small scar on my left thumb to remind me not to chop hastily.

Since I spend so much time in the kitchen, I rely most heavily on my chef's knife. I probably use it more than I should, and in reality it is maybe just a tad too big for my hands. But over the years I have adapted to it, so much so that if I were to spring on another, smaller, perhaps Asian knife, I would certainly have a learning curve. As much love as I have for my current knives, there were always some tasks that I felt I could accomplish better if I had better tools, breaking down chickens, in particular.

It has been several years since I have purchased meat from anywhere other than a farm. Longtime readers will remember that I split beef and pork with my Parents that is raised near their place in southwestern Wisconsin. Local Amish raise the animals for us in the way we would raise them if we had the resources to do so. We order chickens early in Spring, that are ready and butchered in Fall. Communication is done by U.S. Mail, or by a pop-in visit my Mom does to find the date of the butchering. Last year, I got 5 chickens and I have to say that outside of Christmastime, they were the only chicken we ate at my house. Even though we aren't overly carnivorous around here, I only really left my long time (mostly) vegetarian lifestyle after my marriage to a burger and brat man.

When I look back at the reasons for my meaty aversions, I really think that I was just afraid of it. I was afraid of packages of parts, I was afraid that I wouldn't get my counters clean enough. I was afraid of under cooking it, and so most things I made were overcooked and didn't really taste that great. After we began sourcing good meat, I felt none of those concerns... and while I still don't eat a meat-heavy diet, I feel good about having an entire healthy animal to work with.

Now, I have a lot to learn about breaking down animals. I have never seen a whole side of beef and marveled at the anatomy of an impossibly large cow. But I have watched my Mom cut a bird into 8 pieces, moving the joints to find the places to cut through. Going through the motions that (with 5 birds a year) are still rather new to me, I found it was infinitely easier with this Wusthof butchery set. The poultry shears nipped through easily as I cut out the backbone, the hefty cleaver broke the sternum swift and neat. But what I am most in love with is the boning knife that made quick work of removing the skeleton parts from the pale pink flesh. I tried not to feel bad for not making such a neat work of it, but seeing as I have never removed bones before, I think I did all right. (I also take comfort that any remaining meat on the bones I discarded will enrich my stock all that much more and not really be wasted.)

spring loaded!

Since for the past couple of years I have dealt more in chicken than chicken parts, I have to say that I enjoy most a chicken in a pot (check out this one!). Roasted chickens are great, that burnished brown skin so alluring and crisp. But to make a whole bird in some kind of sauce, braising it in the oven for an hour or two until you have the best of all worlds? I almost prefer that to any other kind of meat. Tonight, I dredged my chicken pieces in flour speckled with minced rosemary, paprika, salt, and pepper and after wilting 3/4 lb. of mushrooms with some green onions in butter (and removing them from my pot), I added a little more butter and browned the chicken. I added just a little more butter and the leftover flour, and made a roux with vermouth, leftover veg stock that needed using, and half a lemon. I added everything back, topped it off with the last of the veg stock, and baked it in the oven for an hour until it was bubbly, perfectly cooked.

We'll have several days of leftovers, and something for the freezer before this chicken is gone completely.

As we were eating dinner, I thought how my next big cut will likely award me with another tetanus shot. The ten years between them seems to have gone lightening fast, and still my thumb has the little knot of scar tissue that will never quite go away. My thumbprint is actually altered there, part of my identity forever changed by my devotion to wielding sharp knives. I actually need to find a good knife sharpening service, since a shy decade of my honing has likely taken a toll on my set.

I wonder if I will be brave enough to ask my Parents' neighbor if I can help butcher chickens. If I could learn to accept the most visceral part of responsible meat eatery. I suspect I will. And when I do, I'll be sure to be careful of my fingers.

Disclosure: I did receive a Wusthof 3-Piece Poultry Set (available exclusively at Williams-Sonoma) for review. My opinions are my own, and are not embellished.

Everything's Rosy.

2011-09-12T14:03:00.006-05:00

About a year ago I read somewhere about a woman who said that she likes to wake up at least a half hour before her household. Thirty minutes hardly seems like enough time to accomplish anything, but recently I have successfully implemented this myself - even if it requires me to be ripped from my sleep and dreams, and even if it makes me feel blurry eyed for several minutes before actually getting out of bed.

For the past 5 years, I have not really set an alarm. We got up when we woke up, I got up actually when the Kiddo woke up since I am rather night-owlish. But getting up at the crack of dawn isn't really so bad. This morning, I had already thrown in the first load of laundry and prepped some beets to roast before my son was even poked gently awake. My entire morning seemed rather pink after dropping him off at school. I walked in the door, (washed my hands), and took the roasted beets out of the oven. It's our last hot day, and I had the oven on early so I could welcome Fall tomorrow with beety fresh baked goods.

When they were cooling, I ran the Watermelon Jellies down to the basement shelves. I made two batches over the weekend using Marisa's recipe, one plain and one with fresh cayenne peppers. I have never made watermelon jelly before, but I have to say that it has grown on me. Especially the cayenne version. I am most excited to make some crackers, get some good sheep's milk feta, and enjoy this warming sweet melon flavored jelly to it's full capacity. I tried the skimmed off foam on frozen scones, and was appropriately amazed. Watermelon Jelly is completely worthwhile and deserves a place on the jam shelf, and don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise!

I also strained out the elderberry vinegar. It had been sitting for several days (I've lost count), but tasted well rounded and earthy so I figured it was time. Using the workhorse nut milk bag, I let it hang for about a half hour before squeezing the pulp nearly dry. My hands briefly stained light purple, I measured the finished vinegar at 4 cups. Using the same method as the Cherry Vinegar (which was adapted from Pam Corbin's Raspberry Vinegar), I added 1 c. of sugar for each cup of vinegar and warmed it just enough to completely dissolve the sugar so that my cider vinegar remained raw. It is lovely. I have the jars bottled, labeled, and transferred to the basement shelves. I just drank a couple of tablespoons over ice, diluted with seltzer water, and it is fantastic. But since elderberry seems to be more in the medicinal family than the gustatory one, I'll be sure to curb my consumption. However, drinking 2 T. a day throughout cold and flu season seems like it could be very easy to do.

I peeled the beets, and pureed a couple of them. When looking up the link for the Ground Cherry Hot Sauce I made last week, I ran into a beet doughnut recipe that Sarah Nett posted. They were baked doughnuts, and I have not made dessert over here in what seems like forever (in reality, it has only been a week or two). In the back of my mind I thought perhaps I could make these camouflaged enough that my boys would both eat and love them, but after trying them, I'm not completely certain they would be fooled.

I love the flavor and color, but the texture needs some work. Had I baked them in a doughnut pan (I don't have one), I think they may have worked better actually, since the texture did remind me of doughnuts. Making them as muffins instead left the bottoms slightly gummy - and I suspect I should have added a bit more flour or leavener.

If you are a baker, will you take a look at my recipe in progress and give me a couple of suggestions? I have a feeling these could be fantastic with a tweak or two...

WORK IN PROGRESS Beet Muffins (adapted from My Culinary Sanctuary)

1 c. AP flour
1/2 c. whole wheat flour
1 1/2 t. baking powder
1 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. nutmeg
1/4 t. salt

1/2 c. pureed beets
2 eggs
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. yogurt
1 t. vanilla
1 T. vegetable oil (I eyeballed)

Preheat oven to 350. Line a muffin tin with papers, or grease them well.

Sift dry ingredients together in a large bowl.

In a medium sized bowl, beat eggs with brown sugar for several minutes, until the sugar is partially dissolved. Mix in yogurt, vanilla and oil, and beat well.

Scrape the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, and mix well by hand, but do not overmix. Portion into the waiting muffin tin.

Bake for 25-30 minutes until a tester comes out clean.

slightly gummy.

I am not about to give up on these beet muffins. On looks alone, they have captured my Autumn-ready heart. I glazed them using a quick doughnut glaze that I remembered loving from the Daring Baker Donut Challenge a while back. I eyeballed small amounts into a little bowl and stirred it with a spoon. After dunking the photographic one, I just spooned a little over each. (I am frustrated with my favorite muffin papers. They used to be amazing and non-stick and now the only thing they have going for them is that they are compostable...)

So I feel productive and maybe a little less lonely on this second Monday of the school year. I'm saving my yard work for tomorrow when our weather will quickly turn to more Fall-like temperatures. My morning went fast, which I know is how these school years will go.

Please remember if you have an idea for these muffins to let me know. Could it be that they need a stick of butter? When I'm so tired tonight from getting up so early, I'm sure I'll be wide awake thinking about how to fix them.

Adventures in Elderberries (and Pontack Sauce)

2011-09-09T11:24:00.001-05:00

The past week seems to have stood still and flown by at the same time. I feel like I was gone for about a month, which is often the case when I go out of town. A storm rolled through the day before I left, rendering my cell phone completely unusable for the duration of my stay at the farm. That only added to the sense of complete relaxation, one that made it harder than ever to return to the city.

After our long weekend, my Kiddo seems to be adjusting much better than I am to full day kindergarten. I feel a sense of emptiness, and I feel busier than ever. I contemplate finding a job or a way to make some on-the-side-money, but ever increasingly, I feel happy that I can call myself a HomeMaker.

I did bring back plenty to keep me busy, too. I had watermelons and paper bags crammed full of elderberries. Elderberry bushes grow wild on my Parents' property in many places and though I missed the blossoms this year for cordials, my Mom kept an eye on their sporadic ripening so that I could play with them. She only made syrup once with them just after we first moved to the farm. She wasn't overly excited with the flavor, so she hasn't bothered to make anything with them since. I was more than excited at the prospects of old-fashioned-y elixirs and syrups, and of course the chance for wild, free kitchen experiments. That plummy blue black color kind of got me too...

The bushes were draped with heavy berries, some overripe and some just perfect. My Mom and Dad had picked some for the week or so prior to my visit and had them waiting in bags in the fridge, figuring that if I were to make juice from them, they would rehydrate in the steam bath. My Mom and I picked 3 pounds fresh and stemmed them carefully. A pound went directly into a pound of honey to make a raw syrup. This is the way Linda Ziedrich prefers and I could immediately see why. The flavor of the earthy berries is brought to life under the cloak of clover honey. I'm planning to strain out the spent berries in another few days and try making Julia's Fruit Pulp Cake with the discard.

I dumped a couple of pounds into a quart of cider vinegar to flavor. Using another Pam Corbin recipe, I did this first using the sour cherries, and I am completely smitten. I don't heat the vinegar more than to gently warm the sugar into a melted state, this way I preserve the raw vinegar and trick myself into thinking it is better for me. I can see using the same method for just about any berry or fruit and I can see my love for drinking vinegars increase with every attempt. I didn't stem the berries too carefully for this, I dropped the clusters (cut away from the biggest part of the plant) into my VitaMix and pulsed a few times. Miraculously, the stems floated to the center of the mix where I could easily fish them out. Since I am going to strain this anyway, I feel like I saved myself quite a lot of work coaxing the tiny berries off the stems.

The other recipe that I was looking forward to trying was Pontack Sauce, written by Pam Corbin in The River Cottage Preserves Handbook. I didn't mean not to follow the instructions, but didn't on accident - and the complex umami flavor of this sauce was reward enough for me. Pontack is a English sauce used on meat and game, or to enliven sauces or gravies. Being a base of cider vinegar (I've now gone through nearly a gallon of Bragg's in just over a week and a half...), it has a sour salty nuance, a peppery hot finish, and a round elderberry near-sweetness that is hard to describe. If you have access to 18 oz. or so of elderberries, I'd suggest you make it right away and then let your imagination run away with ideas for future masterpieces.

I should have roasted the elderberries in a slow oven together with the cider vinegar, but roasted them by themselves instead. I kept the oven at 200, and the berries got fat and round with their juices nearly bursting from their thin skins. I did only roast for about 2 hours, not the 6-8 required if I would have followed instruction. I'd like to think this is a quick version of the original recipe, though I have no base to compare it to. I'll probably make another bottle using her more proper procedure since Corbin suggests that it tastes better after aging several months. I'm imagining the finished sauces will taste about the same.

Pontack Sauce (adapted from Pam Corbin)

1 lb. 2 oz. elderberries, stripped from stems
2 c. cider vinegar
4 oz. sliced onion
1 small clove garlic, sliced
tiny pinch of mace
tiny pinch of cloves
1 T. tellecherry peppercorns
1 inch piece of fresh ginger, bruised

Place berries in a glass baking dish, and roast at 200 degrees for about 2 hours until they are soft and starting to "bleed" their juices. Strain through a sieve (I used a china cap), and transfer juice to a wide non-reactive saucepan.

Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer over low heat for about a half hour. Strain the sauce through a sieve.

Transfer the sauce back to a small saucepan, and bring to a rapid boil. Boil hard for 5 minutes. Pour sauce into a sterilized jar or bottle, and store in a dark, cool place.

The finished sauce was the color of ink. It seems to be one of those things that is deeply mysterious, "kitchen alchemy at its most exciting and rewarding", as Pam Corbin puts it. It's a strange balance of flavor, and it makes me feel empowered to make meat. The River Cottage Preserves Handbook has quickly become one of my favorite books, and I look forward to making many more of her smart recipes.

I should have used shallots, but I couldn't find any.

Do you ever feel like you don't know what you should be doing? That's kind of how I feel right now. Outside of immediate canning and preserving projects, I feel like I should have all sorts of time on my hands. I feel like everyone is asking me what I am doing since I have all this extra time, but the truth is, I am busy and haven't seen any of that extra time yet.

I try to remember how lucky I am to admire things like the color of these elderberries, how it quietly changed to a denim blue when it met the dishwater. All day I wonder what kindergarten must be like, and I'm shocked that I can remember most of what I did when I first attended so many years ago. I hope that I can let go a little, and that the hours I'm spending alone never go misused. I still have a couple bags of elderberries to put to use, so I have a good start.

Birthdays and Photography,

2011-09-02T09:55:00.011-05:00

Today is my birthday, and I officially hit my mid-thirties. When thinking about such things as age, I ponder that the reason the blogging world on all topics is so huge is because my generation is struggling to hold the rapidly increasing technology at arm's length. We want to embrace just enough of it to fully bear hug our pasts, which when you hit your mid-thirties seems like it's rushing away from you in a hurry.

I will remember always that my Gram's favorite age was 35. Her kids (4 of them at the time, my last uncle didn't come along until she was in her 40's) were older and she could do more of what she loved: gardening, raising sheep and goats, experimenting with cheeses, wild yeasts and vinegars, and knitting with such productivity that I sometimes feel slovenly by comparison. She was able bodied and strong. I remember her carrying 2 water filled 5-gallon buckets at a time down to her animals when she was well into her 60's, and with nary a grey hair on her head.

I feel so much like her sometimes that it makes me teary. That the woman I knew when I was a kid and the woman I know her to be now is essentially the same, but I am not. I can appreciate my elders now like I couldn't then, and more than once my Mom has told me that she wishes my Gram was in good health now that I've hit my stride. When thinking of aging, I can only hope that I do so with as much dignity and grace as my Gram. She is now unable to speak, not really able to see, and spends most of the day with her eyes closed, reclining in a chair - but she has a memory that is long and sharp and no one has ever once heard her complain.

A few weeks ago I got an email from Easy Canvas Prints asking if I'd like to review a photo canvas using one of my photographs. I was really surprised actually, since I feel like I really love photography, but that my particular style isn't really mainstream, and maybe doesn't appeal to so many people. I have very limited equipment (my standard gear is an old version iPhone with lots of photo apps and my Canon PowerShot S5IS, which in digital years is ancient at more than 4 years old), and I have to exploit what they do best, like micro-photos. Fortunately for me, micro pics have always been some of my favorites. I feel like the world is a huge place and now that the Internet has invaded it is even larger, and sometimes strangely impersonal. Looking at something small and up close so that you have to stop and examine it appeals to me. You may not know what a micro pic subject is right away, but that's part of the point the photographer makes. That extra time required makes me nostalgic for simpler times.

I figured I'd consider 5 candidates of recent photos I've taken for translation to canvas, five that I picked for their appeal and their story to me personally, and 5 that just happened to be micros. I'll let you in on my process, and early apologies if I get long-winded...

Samco Radishes. I was hit hard by the radish bug this early Spring. I couldn't eat enough of the them, I couldn't wait for them to grow in my garden. I couldn't get enough of their shocking pinkness or of eating them plain or pickled. I took this iPhone pic using the Instagram app. My Instagram stream is private, but I upload some of the photos to flickr from time to time. If you are looking for watery pinks, I like the filters on Instagram a great deal. I am also a total geek for old canning jars like this Samco. I have a few that are very special to me, and likely this one came from my Gram.

Orange Liqueur. I think every year I will tackle some kind of liqueur using the proportion of the Rhubarb Liqueur by Deena Princhep. I read a lot of recipes for infused vodkas and brandies, but I am fully convinced that Deena's method of extraction by nearly lethal grain alcohol (a.k.a. Everclear) is superior. The flavors are pulled more fully, and develop better I think, and when you age them they morph into something completely mellow and amazing. This liqueur is coming along nicely. It bears a strange resemblance (albeit stronger) to Aperol when the bitter sting of orange peel is left on your tongue. I have a feeling it will continue to change as it sits. I took this photo with the Camera+ app which is probably one of my favorites for editing. I usually shoot all iPhone pics in it, then transfer them to other apps for filtering.

My Gram was a collector of old jars and bottles, but not really just for looking at. She loved usable things, and most everything in her home was not only nice to look at but was also functional. Except this old milk jar. The front of this bottle says in red script letters "Dee's Dairy", and my Gram's name is Dolores (she goes by the nickname Dee). Her last name is Mendez, and when she found this bottle with this milk tab stopping it up she never removed it. You can read a little more about it here, by rolling over the image to read the note. This was a Hipstamatic pic, and I liked the fairytale, float colors for this story of the bottle.

Kombucha(s). This was the second bottled batch of kombucha that I made. I was pretty excited, and bottled 4 or so different flavors out of first batches just to see how they differed. Now, I've gotten pretty lazy and like to just bottle a single flavor, usually whatever fruit I have around that needs using or jam which also works too in a pinch. I'm always envious of photographs that are back lit to showcase the color in transparent foods or drinks. This photo isn't really perfect, but it came close enough for me, and reminded me of the obsessions that happen to me in the kitchen.

Atlas Strong Shoulder. This was the image I chose to have reproduced, and it was because it embodied everything about photography: memories, family, technology and the aesthetics that I love. Strong shoulder jars are my favorite. They differ a bit from plain wide mouths, since they do indeed have shoulders that are a bit more pronounced. I love Atlas jars in particular, too - and this one is very old and blue and I don't preserve in it. I likely had taken it filled with crackers or something to my Parents' house and then we ate what was in it and the empty jar caught my eye in their kitchen. That is the green of last Summer out the kitchen window that overlooks the rolling hills and farmland where they live. It looks like a painting to me, the way the greens move within the blue jar. I think of the strength in the preserving, in the strong shoulders of my Mother and Grandmother who instilled in my the abilities to be independent and productive, to be strong and useful with myself, the hard workings of my Dad who led us all to the country, to his dream home, our old farmhouse. This was the image I wanted in my kitchen, and thanks to Easy Canvas Prints, it now is.

before: Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66

after: Atlas Strong Shoulder

This baker's hutch that stands in the corner of my dining room came from my Mom's kitchen prior to it's remodel with ample cabinets. It has an enameled worktop that pulls out which in addition to being an extension of my counters serves as the place where most of my photos are taken. A defunct flour bin on the upper left conceals my cords enabling my near-vintage stereo to work with my iPod. It houses my kombucha and currently my Bachelor's Jam behind sliding wooden doors, and teas and miscellaneous clutter hide cleverly on shelves behind closed doors. Though not in my kitchen proper, it is close enough and I consider it an essential part of my kitchen kit.

My canvas arrived the day before my birthday, a surprise that the Easy Canvas people probably didn't calculate but one that I appreciated very much. I was very happy with the color translation, and the quality of the print, especially since I chose a photo I took with my iPhone. The website is simple to use and the print shipped quickly. It even had hanging hardware attached so I could hang it immediately on the wall.

It causes me to think about art and what qualifies, how I personally am drawn to images and colors like the one I chose to have hanging in my home. It will stand as a marker for my 35th birthday and those things I felt when I picked it, should my memory start to fail me. Not that I'm counting on that anytime soon...

Daring Baker Challenge August 2011 (kind of...): Peanut Butter Fudge

2011-08-27T06:00:00.006-05:00

The August 2011 Daring Bakers’ Challenge was hosted by Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drive and Mandy of What the Fruitcake?!. These two sugar mavens challenged us to make sinfully delicious candies! This was a special challenge for the Daring Bakers because the good folks at Chocoley offered an amazing prize for the winner of the most creative and delicious candy!

but I won't win any prizes with this winning recipe...

Our challenge this month was to make candies: one non-chocolate, and one enrobed in tempered chocolate. We were given many nice looking recipes to choose from, or allowed to use our own, but we were supposed to make at least two kinds. I didn't follow the directions. I actually had some chocolate that was previously tempered and now solidified from a long ago occasion - it was waiting in a glass dish to be used on something not requiring much chocolate. I even took the preliminary steps of cutting some of the marshmallows I made earlier in the month into petite cubes, thinking I would dunk them into the chocolate and a very quick homemade 'candy' would be done. (Maybe I would have even toasted the marshmallows and cooled them, and then dunked them into chocolate... maybe I will have to try that one day...) But then I recognized the heat of August and the business of preservation was not really conducive to chocolate coating anything. That, and I really need to cut down on my personal sugar consumption.

Enter the peanut butter:

VitaMix'ed. I still love this thing.

When I woke up this morning, I actually thought it was Daring Baker posting day, the 27th. This is what often happens to me since I rarely need to know the date for anything. Making one of the requirements for the challenge was actually the furthest thing from my mind, and then over breakfast I thought about commitments and how I hate to break them. I figured I could have an excuse to give out little packages of peanut butter fudge at a get-together I'm having over the weekend and then before I knew it, the peanut butter fudge was all but made. Using baking pantry staples, this delicious fudge can be ready for consumption about 1 hour and 20 minutes from when you decide to make it, and that includes 60 minutes of chilling time.

Being from Wisconsin, I like to think that I have a "one-up" on fudge. I was born in a highly touristic part of my state: The Northwoods, specifically Minocqua. We had fudge shops. (Plural.) Tourists would line up out the door, waiting for slabs of flavored specialty fudge, passing the time efficiently by watching the pretty girls through the window working some type of taffy winding machine, or spreading vats of sticky candy onto marble slabs to cool. We rarely bought any little white boxes of precious fudge, but were no strangers to this sweet confection. My Gram had an antique oval platter, cobalt blue, that was and still is known as the Fudge Plate. "That fudge plate is getting lonely..." is a phrase I grew up with, and nearly as fast as it was uttered, our whole family (except my Dad usually, and sometimes including my uncles) began scooping out spoonfuls as soon as it was rested to cool in the salt-buttered plate. We could never wait until it firmed up and it didn't matter. Gobs of sugary chocolate were well on their way through our digestive systems, and usually only a half platter remained long enough to cool completely into solid form.

So much of our family food memory revolves around fudge: straightening the rows or evening out the lines - because you just can leave a crooked line drawn in chocolate. (That is still true for me, by the way. I can't ever leave a cake or pie or fudge slab uneven...) That lucky one who's turn it was with the worn wooden spoon (that may or may not have tasted faintly of onions or garlic) to scrape the pot of the fudgey morsels still clinging to the sides. A good and intent scraper could very well end up on the long end of the stick with that scraping task.

All glorious fudge memories aside, I can not remember a single instance that we made or purchased peanut butter fudge. We always made chocolate fudge, my Gram would opt for maple if we spent the rare extra dollar or two to buy some, maple and walnuts being some of her favorite things. Peanut butter fudge always seemed too sweet, as if the argument for fudge could be made that it really isn't comprised of 80% sugar regardless of flavor. (My Dad never enjoyed fudge simply because of it's extreme sweetness until I made this recipe using dark bittersweet chocolate, it does seem considerably less sweet, and is probably my favorite fudge recipe currently. Since as you may have surmised, I'm all about not eating things too sweet.)

All things negative about peanut butter fudge said, I can now officially take them with a grain of salt. The Über-Sweetness of this particular peanut butter fudge is undeniable, but (if you can stop yourself from eating half the baking dish), it really is a delicious accomplishment. I feel a bit like Charlie Bucket, nibbling the tiniest corner of one of these cubes to let the sweetness permeate my mouth and transport me, and if mindful I can truly appreciate it's texture and peanutty nuance. If my real self takes control of my fleeting juvenile-literature-moment, I have to go and brush my teeth to make myself stop eating it.

Really, it is that delicious.

gifts.

The only things I did to alter the recipe as written was to add a pinch of salt when I stirred in the peanut butter to the bubbling butter and sugar mixture, and when I melted the butter initially, I used a pastry brush to brush a touch of it in the 8x8 glass baking dish. Don't be tempted to omit the vanilla. I felt like the 1 t. really made it.

Peanut Butter Fudge (via Daring Kitchen site)

1/2 cup (115g / 4oz.) Unsalted Butter
2 1/4 cups (450g / 16oz.) firmly packed Brown Sugar
1/2 cup (120ml) Milk
3/4 cup (200g / 7oz.) smooth Peanut Butter (I made my own, and added a pinch of salt)
1 teaspoon (5ml) Vanilla Extract
3 1/2 cups (425g / 15oz.) Confectioners' (Icing) Sugar

1. Place butter into a medium saucepan and melt it over medium heat.
2. Add brown sugar and milk, stirring.
3. Boil for 2 minutes, stirring frequently.
4. Remove from heat.
5. Mix in peanut butter and vanilla.
6. Place confectioners' sugar into a large mixing bowl.
7. Pour hot peanut butter mixture over confectioners’ sugar and beat until smooth.
8. Pour fudge into an 8 by 8 inch (20cm by 20cm) pan.
9. Chill until firm, about 1 hour.
10. Cut into 1-inch (25 mm) squares.

I packaged up the pretty, square pieces, and kept all of the unsightly and uneven ones for myself. It's a hard life, I tell you.

Do please go and look at all of the lovely recipes on the the Daring Kitchen site for this month... had it not been so oppressively hot for most of the month, the passionfruit ones really caught my eye and would have been one I'd have made. While you're there, remember to check the Daring blogroll and peruse some of the no doubt lovely creations from those bloggers that can follow directions. I hope I'll be back on track next month.

Preservation by Any Means Possible (and... a Lahey Bread, if you are still keeping track)

2011-08-17T20:36:00.013-05:00

I like to think of words in the English language, and how they look or "feel" like their spellings... my favorite examples: laugh, quiet, grumpy. When I see the word 'August' in type it evokes this feeling of exhaustion, of exhaling with a sigh, of brevity. In the Midwest, our most prolific season is August and the aforementioned descriptions sum it up well. Pretty much any vegetable that grows in our zone is on and ripe for the preservation, and while I don't preserve as much as some, I still feel that pang of tiredness. I wonder if I am doing as much as I can do, wondering if I am doing too much for the food-eating conundrum I find myself in (a.k.a. my picky boys).

Last weekend, the Kiddo and I spent time at my Parents' farm. My only food goal was finding a peck of jalapeno peppers. Last year's peppers were excruciatingly hot, so hot that I actually still have a number of jars leftover despite the near 3 pints of candied jalapenos I ingested myself. When considering my preserving tactics this Summer, I thought of an uncle - since I could justify doing more if I had someone with the fortitude to eat the last of the super hot peppers. And he must have a stomach of steel. Last Summer, I traded some canning for some upholstery work, and when my Mom gave him the peppers he ate almost half a jar immediately.

Finding jalapenos this year was more difficult, and after some hunting, we found a farm with them. I helped an Amish man pick a gallon pail full of mixed peppers. This was after a misunderstanding at a different farm that landed me a peck of crisp green bell peppers. Monday morning before leaving, 4 dozen corn appeared tidily bundled in a green mesh sack, the result of tasting some bi-color corn we got from another Amish neighbor on Saturday during our quest. It was the sweetest corn I've had this year, and now 10 1/2 lbs. are resting in the deep freeze.

As if I didn't have enough on my plate, I decided before I left that I needed to make proper lacto-ferment crock pickles this year. This beautiful photo from Chiot's Run was what did it; after reading the post, I went down to the basement and brought up the crock my Mom gave me a year ago that belonged to my Gram. I re-washed it and sterilized it for fear of mold spores (my poisoned vinegar was in the basement) and then left it on my kitchen counter open to the air for the weekend. Tuesday, I picked up some pickling cucumbers from the farmer's market, exactly 5 lbs. when I weighed them.

I decided not to can vinegar pickles this year, but couldn't bear the thought that I wouldn't have any until next year so these traditional pickles are a welcome addition. So is the handsome crock on the floor of my kitchen.

hitchhiking caterpillar on the dill.

The recipe that Suzy at Chiot's Run used was from Linda Ziedrich's pickle book, which I do not have but intend to pick up soon. I followed the recipe, but I had no allspice. I may pick some up and add it after a trip to the co-op tomorrow... if I remember, that is. I also added just a few more hot chiles de arbol. I felt proud that my coriander seed was saved from my garden last year, I measured it out of an origami packet I made to conceal it.

my salad plate was exactly the right size to keep everything submerged.

Pickles done, I turned my attention to this gem of a recipe: lacto-fermented peppers from the Woodwife's Journal. At the farmer's market I also picked up some other green peppers of varying heats, poblanos, serranos, Aneheims, a few extra jalapenos since I was feeling a bit on the shy side with them. These are so delicious straight away, and I can only imagine they will get better with time. I had a few more alterations with this recipe since I was almost out of live cider vinegar (Bragg's, and I ordered another gallon today).

I eyeballed a half peck each of hot (green) mixed peppers and sweet bell peppers, but used only 1 1/3 c. of the cider vinegar and topped it off with plain white vinegar. I also used part olive oil and part grapeseed oil, and a few grinds of black pepper. Try to find Mexican oregano if you can, because that really makes these I think. They are the perfect kind of mild heat, slightly oily and herby, and just plain addicting. I had a half gallon jar and two quart jars, and already I'm wondering if I shouldn't do a second batch because I want everyone I know to try these. And unlike last year, the jalapenos are approachable.

The two larger projects out of the way, I turned my attention to these crazy, bright peppers. When I stood along this long row of mixed hot peppers of various types with an Amish man and picked these, he told me he planted them for the produce auction since their family doesn't much care for the super hot peppers. The auction draws both retailers and individual buyers, and many of the local Amish have gotten rather diverse in the things they grow to sell there. The most fascinating variety I thought were the tiny purple "ornamental" ones, which he assured me were edible, though he didn't remember the name. I bit into one and let my tongue discover the Scoville Heat Units. It was hot.

Last year, I remembered seeing this lacto-fermented hot sauce recipe and cataloged it. I grew a single plant of cayenne peppers and another of habanero, planning to make a smaller batch after they ripen. I may still do that, but meanwhile I used the whole lot that we picked for my bucket, 11 oz., to make a trial batch. It's fairly thick, bordering more on a salsa consistency and I'm actually not sure that I'll strain it. I have a week to think about it.

This isn't just hot. It's mind-numbingly hot. But it's fruity, and the heat doesn't last long which is kind of strange for something with all the visual warning of a traffic cone.

I saved all of the jalapenos, which worked out to exactly 3 lbs. (enough for one batch of candied jalapenos) for tomorrow and moved on to the corn. According to an old preserving book my Mom has, when blanching corn for freezing, you should boil for just as long as you soak in an ice bath - 4 minutes in the case of sweet corn. I filled up my sink with icy water and boiled 6 ears at a time. My rhythm was so efficient that before the next batch was done in the boiling pot, I had 6 of the drained ears sheared clean of kernels - in part to the bundt pan corn removal method I've been seeing around the Internet.

I crafted a "knife protector" out of a plastic lid, however. and it worked really well!

With all of the aroma of sweet corn in the air, no bread in the house, and a starter that had just recently emerged from refrigerated weekend slumber, I decided to tackle the long-lost and maybe somewhat forgotten task of making all of Jim Lahey's bread for what I affectionately coined The Lahey Project. I saved out 4 ears of corn, stripped them, and blended them smooth. Then I used my new favorite purchase, a nut milk bag, to drain out corn juice that was used for the liquid in the bread.

It rose, sweet and earthy and super sticky and I formed it, messily, into a ball. It rose for a couple more hours surrounded by large amounts of cornmeal to ward off some of the inevitable stickiness and when the time came to drop it into my pot, I of course slipped and mostly deflated it. It's been so long since I have done a no-knead bread, and forgot about the somewhat delicate nature of the risen dough. I baked it anyway. It was delicious. It may not be the most picturesque loaf, but I certainly got the gist of what flavors bread can take on when the liquid is replaced with juice.

So, August. It was midnight before I slipped into bed, finally finished my book, and then had trouble winding down into sleep mode. I love working this way, until I'm so tired I'm not really tired any more. It's all self-imposed now, which makes it feel so much more rewarding than when I made an hourly amount which never seemed to measure enough for the precious time I gave to others. (I'm not talking about you though, GOP...) The hot water bath will bubble with more hot peppers tomorrow and I'll continue to take stock and see what else I should be doing to ready myself for the days when things aren't growing and thriving. When August leaves us as quickly as the sigh that it feels like, and Fall stands proud and cold and begs you to turn on the oven.

The Olfactory Pleasures of Marshmallow.

2011-08-10T20:14:00.010-05:00

I have been reading Molly Birnbaum's Season to Taste. It caught my eye on the new shelf at the library, and although it has taken me a shamefully long time to read it, it has caused me to really examine and be thankful for my sense of smell. She talks about the loss and gradual regaining of her sense of smell after an accident. At first it seemed that the scents that came back were related to her emotional state, either to happiness or anxiety. After a few years when it seemed she had regained almost all of what was lost, she discovered that she had trouble "labeling" scents when she smelled them. This in particular I have thought about a lot. When walking through the neighborhood after dinner tonight, I swear I smelled ketchup right behind the smell of a charcoal grill, a blistery hot dog blackened in spots. If I lost my sense of smell for a few years and then smelled this same scene again, would I recognize it the same? Could I put my finger on it?

The neighborhood stroll after dinner tonight was much needed since I made and torched kitchen s'mores for our dessert. This was the first time I have used my culinary torch since my Baked Alaska escapades one year ago, and as the marshmallow toasted, charred in places, the wonderful scent of sugar caramelization reminded me yet again of Molly's book. Charred marshmallow is singular, no other sweet when toasted smells the same, and I was shocked that this small act instantly transported me to a much younger self - the way that smells often do.

Instead of being fashionably late in food trends, I end up being so tardy that I feel that I am indeed starting it again. Wasn't everybody and their uncle making marshmallows a few years ago, before the French Macaroon and the Cupcake? I'm so late I'm afraid that I'm wishing I were the person that made marshmallow so popular to begin with.

In my mind, this may have been another Mollie: Mollie Weizenberg. I remember reading her article in Bon Appetit, which she used to do monthly at the time. (It was probably the main reason I kept my subscription as long as I did.) She knew she would marry a man who had made her marshmallows from scratch. After her eloquent account, it seemed like she had convinced everyone to make marshmallow, sticky variations appearing everywhere I looked. I can't say that I ever made marshmallows for the sake of making them. Since reading her story, I have made variations for cookies and for frostings, but never cut them into fat homemade squares with the sole intention of torching them in a bonfire.

homemade grahams.

The beauty of my kitchen life is that I never know what is going to happen from day to day. I have really stopped planning meals. This is so much better for my creativity, since I make what is available and turn it into what I have a taste for. I have a few staple things that usually appear weekly: some kind of taco, some kind of fermented condiment, sourdough concoction, but as for everything else it's up in the air. When the Kiddo and I decided to go out to the Farm this weekend, my Dad texted me to see if my urban boy would like to camp out with him. When I asked, he said enthusiastically "Yes! And we can eat marshmallows!" So with that statement, my personal marshmallow trend emerged. A day later, a batch of bouncy, white mallows in hand cut squares grace my counter. And, I see what all the fuss over homemade marshmallow was all about.

I used the recipe from Gourmet, via Smitten Kitchen, which was written about 10 years prior to Molly Weizenberg's "Fluff Piece". It's curious, that maybe trends are reinvented every decade - and maybe I'm just rutted in the half-life. The recipe uses more gelatin than I've ever used in a single recipe before: 2 T. plus 2 1/2 t. It softens in a half cup of water when the sugar mixture is coming up to temperature. I have to say that my heightened awareness of my olfactories made me wonder if I would enjoy these marshmallows, the gelatin swelled in the water and smelled animalistic, and not really in a good way. I actually tried to keep myself from noticing the gaminess as the 140 degree syrup was poured over the softened mass, I stirred with a wooden spoon to combine it before letting the KitchenAid have at it.

I had faith in the sugar content, and in the remainder of the vanilla bean stolen from the bottle of vanilla extract. I had used nearly all of the waning bottle in the graham crackers, and fortunately could pillage the precious seeds. I also added a teaspoon of almond extract, just to up the flavorant a bit in case the gelatin didn't tame itself in the fridge...

The marshmallows work at promised. I poured out a mass of sticky goo, and quickly spread it into a prepared pan with a silicone spatula. I did not touch it with my fingers. It hardened quickly as it cooled, leaving my whisk coated in spongy, sticky white but strangely melted off without effort when soaked for 5 minutes in soapy warm water. The whole process seemed easier than buying a bag of marshmallows to tell the truth, and even though I used corn syrup which was probably genetically modified, I comfort myself with the knowledge of a one week shelf life.

The flavor and texture of these marshmallows is perfect. They resist chewing and are sticky, but then give in and dissolve without coating your teeth. When eaten without smelling (which you can approximate by pinching your nose shut - I do this with almost everything after reading Molly's book), their sponginess is more pronounced, a foamy mouthful that registers as sweet. When eaten with a sense of smell, they are sweet but not too sweet, and the whole experience would remind you of eating a bag of Jet Puffed if they were consumed directly after being factory made. If you can call pure sugar "fresh", these are.

Though my jars of homemade components will be heading west on Friday, I couldn't wait that long to make a s'more. I had a small jar of ganache still in the fridge from a few weeks ago, and it is still good. I spread it over the grahams and then speared the mallows with bamboo skewers. I heated them gently with my torch, letting them catch fire so I could blow them out, noting the aroma of singed mallow sugar. Our open faced s'mores were more than plenty for dessert, so rich and elegant that it was a shame I didn't have more people over to share them with.

Will they taste even better outside in front of a fire? I'm pretty sure they will. When the nuance of fresh cut grass and nighttime dew, the smell of the dark and the country influence the sugar and cut it in two. What a privilege to have 5 senses, and what reminders to appreciate them!

A Short, but Complete, Story.

2011-08-07T16:52:00.008-05:00

Every cook must have stories, tales that pop into mind during mundane kitchen tasks. These instances usually attack me when I'm least expecting it, flooding my mind with moving pictures of things that happened long before my birth - but things that have woven their magic into my psyche. The stories become my stories, I become a child of the Great Depression stretching the last of the sauce, weaving the fabric of the tales and changing the pattern into my own.

I have not a stitch of Italian ancestry, but this afternoon when I transferred what red sauce I made to a storage jar I thought of all the stories that I claim as mine. I heated my red pot with the olive oil in it, thin slivers of garlic heating up with the oil as Marcella Hazan recommends. Nearly every time I start a sauce, I do it her way to coax a silkier, less bitter hot garlic into being. I feel like I came to this country with my Husband and did not speak a word of English. That I stood in the supermarket looking at packaged chickens in plastic wrap and wondered at the lack of connection between these Americans and their food.

When I grated a peeled carrot into the pot, I remembered my longtime ex-boyfriend's mother, a tremendous cook and baker. She was not Italian either, but sweetened her sauce with carrots, and tamed the sweetness with a splash of red wine which bubbled up vinegary before she added her tomatoes. No matter what vegetables I try to sneak into my sauces these days, I add the carrot and red wine for her, thinking of all the meals that she shared with me over the years, the implements in my kitchen that came from her endless rummaging and thrifting, her generosity that still holds fast in my heart even though things were not to be with her son.

My sauce finished, I sliced and fried some eggplants cut into circles, wondering all the while if I could convince my Kiddo to eat it. I was not a picky eater, and neither were my two brothers. When one brother and I visited my Grandparents in the "city" (now, Stevens Point does not really seem so urban...) as small children, my Grandpa would try to coax us into finishing our breakfasts by telling us of the park bench in our bellies. I still see this cartoon bench deep in my stomach, a full glass of orange juice sitting there with a smile on it's face just next to a strip of wavy bacon, also smiling. Yes, the pancake is there too, the same silly smile plastered on his face. Hardly a breakfast goes by when I don't think of that time when I honestly believed that there was such a thing as a park bench in my belly, and that I shouldn't waste what is on my plate since the food already waiting on the bench will be lonely without company. I have already employed the story of the park bench, and I wonder if little eggplants with smiles on their faces will join the glass of milk and corn on the cob in my Kiddo's stomach when dinner emerges from the oven...

After assembling my Eggplant Parmesan, I used the ladle already in the pot to transfer the leftover sauce to a jar. After scraping most of the sauce in, a brief thought of washing the pot without scraping every last bit out crossed my mind. Did I really want to dirty a spatula to get those last tablespoons? The story that immediately came to mind was one that was told to me second hand by my Mom. When my Gram was newly married and living in Chicago, she went on a picnic lunch with my Grandfather. They brought hard cooked eggs, didn't eat them all and rather than pack them up, they left them in the woods. A day passed and they were hungry and remembered those eggs. They went back to see if they could find them. Now, my details of this story are fuzzy, but when it was first told to me I wondered, "Who goes to look for eggs that were left outside a day later?" "They were hungry, I guess..." I remember my Mom telling me.

I grabbed my spatula and scraped the pot, nearly a quarter cup of sauce appearing magically from the bottom and sides. A quarter cup I imagine my Depression Era Gram stretching into a meal somehow, and the portion I now remember to be thankful for.

Preserving Sour Cherries.

2011-07-30T18:39:00.010-05:00

I really never got addicted to sour cherries until 2 years ago. I popped a couple into my mouth at the West Allis Farmer's market, and my life was forever changed. I'm not really sure why I never ate them before, or sought to look for them. They were something rare, something I never grew up eating.

sour cherry jam test.

Last year, I missed the fleeting season altogether - in part because I didn't go to many farmer's markets because I joined a CSA, and in part because the season was not prolific due to our extremely rainy Spring. I made my last jar of tart cherry jam last longer than I should have but by the time July rolled around, I started perusing the Wisconsin Cherry Grower's site nearly daily, paranoid that I was going to miss them again and my memory of tart cherry jam was going to have to hold me for another year.

All of a sudden, there was a cherry explosion. I first saw tiny crates at the Farmer's market last Tuesday, little ruby drops of North Star and Montmorency varieties - gems that put Wisconsin on the gourmet foods map. There really is nothing like a sour cherry, nothing that approximates it's piquant sweetness, and popping the first handfuls into my mouth fueled my growing cherry appetite even more.

When Peef and Lo asked if I'd be interested in getting a substantial amount of cherries from Cherryland's Best, I originally thought I'd split some with another food blogger. But the longer our discussions went, the more we all decided that we could each manage to make 27 lbs. of cherries into something. The way I downed my first little basket, I wondered if 27 lbs. would actually be enough. I imagined myself to sleep by pitting cherries until my fingers hurt, waking early so excited for Wisconsin sour cherries and the task to preserve them all.

I was more than surprised when my cherries came in and they were "processed". A food grade, white pail heavy with already pitted fruits in their own natural, accumulated juices. I drove my haul back home, cracked open the pail, shoveled a handful of tart cherries into my mouth. I was so happy, and I didn't have to pit anything! As soon as I gave my Kiddo lunch, I portioned off my plan of attack. In less than 24 hours, here is what became of the 27 lbs. of cherries:

3 lbs. for the Sour Cherry Jam
2 1/2 lbs. for Limey Rum Sour Cherry Preserves (inspired by Linda Ziedrich, recipe below)
1 lb. for the Bachelor's Jam
3 lbs. for dehydration
2 1/4 lbs. for vinegar
7 1/2 lbs. for quarts canned in light syrup, one jar lost to explosion :(
2 lbs. for cherry crisp
1 lb for fresh eating
just shy of 2 quarts of accumulated cherry juice

dehydration.

I haven't done too much fruit dehydration, and I knew I would be shocked at how much moisture is lost in the process. Of the 3 lbs. of fresh cherries, the finished weight of dried cherries was under a half pound. They are sweeter, and would remind me of a dried cranberry if I didn't know better. After drying them, I put them in the freezer just to make sure any extra moisture doesn't cause them to mold on me. I'll likely use some in my Stollen this year.

bachelor's jam.

I first read about bachelor's jam last year, and was fascinated with the idea of it. Fruit is layered as it comes into season with sugar and kept submerged in alcohol (I used brandy) until ready to use. The "jam" comes from stirring up the boozy fruits and straining them out of the alcohol - each to be used as a separate component to holiday entertaining I'd imagine. I can't wait to make cakes topped with the fruit, to taste the finished alcohol that right now I can only imagine as being extremely sweet.

vinegar.

I feel like flavoring purchased vinegar is totally cheating. I also feel like I have failed miserably at making vinegars, the only success being the blueberry apple variety. The beautiful vat of Lemberger wine that was gifted to me became plagued with black mold, the rhubarb version met the same demise. I still love the flavor of vinegar, especially Bragg's cider vinegar, and put the fruit to steep as recommended in Pam Corbin's River Cottage Preserves Handbook. Next week, I'll strain it, sugar it, and reduce it - where it will be a clever addition to pan sauces and maybe even yogurt. (Note: I decided not to heat the vinegar past the warming point, just enough to dissolve the sugar. This way, the Bragg's vinegar remains raw and healthful despite all of the sugar. It is delicious mixed with ice and seltzer as a shrub.)

the beginning of Limey Rum Cherry Preserves.

Inspired to make more boxed-pectin-free jams this year, I have been devouring the recipes in Linda Zeidrich's The Joys of Jams Jellies and Other Sweet Preserves. Sweet Preserves are something that I never really understood: too thin to be considered a jam, they sit clumsily on toast or pared up with nut butters. They are achingly sweet. I made a strawberry preserves not too long ago that seemed good, but on the sweet side. I felt that when the heat of Summer subsided, they would taste better. But then I made this sour cherry version of preserves - and now my opinions have changed.

Yes, it is sweet. But the texture and viscosity is so lovely that I think it has sold me on the idea of preserves. I used (by weight) raw sugar, which when I smelled in in tandem with the sour cherry, made me think it needed rum. And lime. Instead of lemon, I switched to lime, and in short order, my first tweaked preserves were born.

after boiling 5 minutes, and sitting 12 hours. or maybe a tad longer...

This preserves starts 8-12 hours before the canning process takes place. The sugar combines with the fruit and coaxes the gorgeous juices into being.

Limey Rum Sour Cherry Preserves (adapted from Linda Zeidrich)
my yield: 5 half pints

2 1/2 pounds sour cherries, pitted, any juices saved
5 c. sugar (I used 958 g. of raw sugar, converted by this site)
zest of one lime (I use the small, "true" limes)
2 T. lime juice, from the zested lime)
1/4 c. dark, spiced rum

In a large, non-reactive pot, combine the cherries, lime zest, and sugar and let sit covered for at least 1 hour. The sugar should have drawn out some of the juice.

Heat the mixture over medium heat, stirring gently and occasionally, until sugar dissolves completely. Raise heat to medium high, and boil for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove pan from heat, and cover with a cloth. Let the pan stand at room temperature for 8-12 hours.

Set the pan over medium heat and add lime juice. Bring to a boil, and raise heat to medium high. Boil, stirring often (skimming any foam) until the syrup thickens a little. (I tested by using frozen plates - I boiled away for at least 35 minutes until I was happy with the thickness.)

Ladle into half-pint jars. Add lids and rings, and process in hot water bath for 10 minutes.

Since I made these preserves early this morning, I used the skimmed foam (there wasn't much) with an equal part maple syrup for this morning's pancakes. For some reason, I still am not cherried out:

After breakfast, I debated what to do with most of the remaining cherries. I wavered between canning in extra light syrup or freezing, and the canning won out. There's something about seeing quarts of cherries on the shelf, I guess - and the bonus of having some light cherry syrup to contend with...

6 went in, 5 came out...

I talked to my Mom for a good amount of time today, and she was surprised I wasn't making any desserts. "No cherry pies?" I have a serious weakness when it comes to sweets. If I make them, I eat them, if I don't make them, I don't even really crave them. I asked my Husband if he would eat a crisp. "Like, an apple crisp?" he asked, oblivious of the huge white pail that was still sitting on the counter... "No, like cherry crisp," I stated, maybe just a tad annoyed. He said he probably would eat it, so that was the only extra push I needed to make it.

I forgot that I should never NEVER use tapioca flour to thicken pies/tarts/crisps and the like, since I absolutely detest the flavor it imparts. After the crisp baked the first time, I dismembered it crisp from filling and cooked the filling on the stovetop with more sugar to mask the flavor. I also added probably too much cinnamon. Then, I reassembled the crisp into a new, shallower pan, topped with additional crumble (I had only used half the amount the first time, and froze the rest), and re-baked for a half hour. I was much happier.

Have I eaten my fill of cherries yet? I'm not sure. I'm so thankful I have such beautiful preserves to take me through the winter, to give as gifts. And, I'm surprised that it didn't seem like so much work to get it all done in less than a day. Thank you Peef and Lo for thinking of me, and thank you Cherryland's Best for amazing fruit, and less work!

Daring Baker Challenge July 2011: Fraisier.

2011-07-27T06:00:00.016-05:00

Jana of Cherry Tea Cakes was our July Daring Bakers’ host and she challenges us to make Fresh Frasiers inspired by recipes written by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson in the beautiful cookbook Tartine.

I was excited for this challenge because I had a cause to share my dessert. If I'm honest, the Daring Baker Challenges are starting to wear on me if only because I don't know enough people to share them with. On occasions like last month's baklava, I had no trouble polishing up most of the dessert myself in a full week's time, but this month's choice of fraisier is not what I'd call a "good keeper". Depending on next month's challenge choice, I may put a declaration on my Facebook page for any Milwaukee area readers to come share the dessert, like a pie social for the 21st century. If that sounds right up your alley, keep an eye out!

I had never heard of a fraisier before. Essentially, it is sponge cake soaked with simple syrup, layered with fruit and a gelatinized pastry cream. It was supposed to be topped with a final layer of rolled almond paste, but I spread a thin layer of orange spiked whipped cream instead.

My whole flavor scheme this month was really inspired by the success of my strawberry guajillo jam. Just after making it earlier in the week, I made a thin sauce of strawberry, guajillo peppers, and a touch of cayenne powder. Then I flavored the other components along the way with little whispers of my orange liqueur. The finished dessert was light, and not at all too sweet, the perfect thing for a hot summer evening spent with friends.

The sauce wasn't a true simple syrup, but did sink into the layers pretty well and lent that little bit of heat that I was looking for. I also brought along a little bottle to use on top for those who wanted a little more strawberry heat. I think it would also be an excellent component to drinks, to drizzle on ice cream (basil ice cream perhaps?), to add to milk and stir - enjoying far more than you did as an 8-year-old pigtailed girl slurping slowly (quickly?) out of a Nesquik Rabbit cup...

Stawberry Guajillo Cayenne "Sauce"

3/4 c. crushed strawberries
scant 3/4 c. raw sugar
1 dried guajillo pepper, stemmed and finely chopped (I used the seeds as well)
1/4 - 1/2 t. cayenne pepper powder (to taste)

Combine strawberries, sugar and guajillo pepper, and let sit at room temperature for 6-8 hours (I did this in a non-reactive pot seen above, then used the same pot to bring it up to a boil). Bring the mixture to a boil, let simmer one minute, then remove from heat. Transfer to a blender and blend until completely smooth. Pass it through a fine sieve, saving any pulp to use as jam. Add cayenne to taste.

unbaked, the batter reached the top of the tin...

When I first read over the recipes for the challenge, two things caught my eye straight away. The first were the implicit instruction that this dessert should be a free-standing cake and not a trifle. The second was that the pastry cream recipe had only a single egg.

The sponge cake, a true chiffon, was supposed to be baked in an ungreased 8 inch springform tin, which I dutifully did after confirming several times that it was an 8 inch pan. I figured if the cake stuck miserably and I would break instruction and just make a trifle since judging from the batter I could tell the cake was delicious. The chiffon cake needs no pan greasing because the batter needs to "climb" the sides. Once completely cool, a knife run between the cake and the sides of the pan breaks the seal, and the cake pops out. Even though the cake mushroomed out over the top of the pan, once cooled it did remove easily. I was quickly able to remove the domed top with a serrated knife.

(There was no height on the pan size, and since my pan was 2 1/2 inches high, I can only assume that the cake tin size should be taller or that the cake should be baked in a 9 inch tin and be slightly less high when finished. Next time I make this cake, I will either use a taller 8 inch springform, or maybe 2 8 inch cake pans and divide the batter. To make a quicker version, I'd also be unopposed to making it as a sheet pan cake.)

I used the metric weigh measurements, and frozen egg whites. I also found (probably due to the height of the cake) that my cake baked almost 20 minutes longer that the suggested baking time. I covered the top lightly with aluminum foil for the last 20 minutes so that the top didn't continue browning and it baked perfectly. Just make sure a long skewer inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. The only other addition I made to the recipe was to add the zest of one orange, and substitute 2 t. of orange liqueur for the vanilla extract.

Chiffon Cake (Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson, Tartine cookbook via The Daring Kitchen)

1 cup + 2 tablespoons (270 ml) (5½ oz/155 gm) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon (5 ml) (4 gm) baking powder
3/4 cups (180 ml) (6 oz /170 gm) sugar
1/2 teaspoon (2½ ml) (1½ gm) salt, preferably kosher
1/4 cup (2 fl oz/60 ml) vegetable oil
3 large egg yolks
⅓ cup + 1 tablespoon (3.17 fl oz/95 ml) water
2 t. orange liqueur
zest of one orange, grated
5 large egg whites
¼ teaspoon (1¼ ml) (1 gm) cream of tartar

Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C/gas mark 3). Line the bottom of an 8-inch (20 cm) spring form pan with parchment paper, and do not grease the sides of the pan.

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and baking powder. Add in all but 3 tablespoons (45 ml.) of sugar, and all of the salt. Stir to combine.

In a small bowl combine the oil, egg yolks, water, vanilla and zest. Whisk thoroughly. Combine with the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly for about one minute, or until very smooth.

Put the egg whites into a stand mixer, and beat on medium speed using a whisk attachment on a medium speed, until frothy. Add cream of tartar and beat on a medium speed until the whites hold soft peaks. Slowly add the remaining sugar and beat on a medium-high speed until the whites hold firm and form shiny peaks. Using a grease free rubber spatula, scoop about ⅓ of the whites into the yolk mixture and fold in gently. Gently fold in the remaining whites just until combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 45 to 55 minutes or until toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Removed the cake from the oven and allow to cool in the pan on a wire rack.

To unmold, run a knife around the sides to loosen the cake from the pan and remove the spring form sides. Invert the cake and peel off the parchment paper. Refrigerate for up to four days.

mushroom?

My next battle was the pastry cream filling, which I made when the chiffon cake was cooling. I have never seen a recipe for a pastry cream that has a single whole egg in it. I suspect I didn't cook it long enough, and it never did set past the "slightly beaten whipped cream" stage. I saved it to make into ice cream, and made a second, more reliable batch of Dorie Greenspan's pastry cream which uses 6 egg yolks. (I froze the remaining egg whites, (6, plus the 3 from the earlier cake) and I'm well on my way to making an angel food cake!) Because I made Dorie's recipe for the pastry cream, I had to approximate the amount to mix with the gelatinized whipped cream to make the filling as written. I just eyeballed it, but it worked well and was fairly stable when assembled. You can find the pastry cream recipe on The Daring Kitchen website, but I made this version:

Dorie Greenspan's Pastry Cream (plus gelatinized whipped cream for Frasier Filling from Elisabeth M. Prueitt tand Chad Robertson, Tartine cookbook via The Daring Kitchen)

for the Pastry Cream:

2 c. milk (Dorie says whole milk, I used 2 %)
6 large egg yolks
1/2 c. sugar
1/3 c. cornstarch, sifted
2 t. orange liqueur (originally 1 1/2 t. vanilla)
3 1/2 T. unsalted butter at room temperature, cut into small pieces

Bring milk to a boil in a small saucepan.

Meanwhile in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, whisk egg yolks with sugar and cornstarch until thick, and lightened yellow in color. When still whisking, slowly add about 1/4 c. of the hot milk to temper. While continuing to whisk, add in the rest of the hot milk.

Put the pan over medium heat and whisk "constantly and thoroughly", bring the mixture to boiling. Boil for 1-2 minutes, whisking all the while, until thick. Remove the pan from heat.

Whisk in orange liqueur, and let cool for 4 minutes. Whisk in small bits of butter, stirring until they are fully incorporated and pastry cream is smooth.

Transfer to a clean, glass bowl and press a piece of plastic wrap on the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Transfer to the fridge until chilled. (Finished pastry cream will last 3 days.)

to make the Pastry Cream into Fraisier Filling: (from the source listed above)

3/4 teaspoon (3¾ ml) (4 gm) gelatin
1/2 tablespoon (7½ ml) water
1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) heavy cream

In a small dish, sprinkle the gelatin over the water and let stand for a few minutes to soften.

Put two inches (55 mm) of water into a small sauce pan and bring to a simmer over a medium heat.

Measure 1/4 cup (2 oz/60 ml) of the chilled pastry cream into a small stainless steel bowl that will sit across the sauce pan with the simmering water, without touching the water. Heat the pastry cream until it is 120 F (48.8 C). Add the gelatin and whisk until smooth.

Remove from the water bath, and whisk the remaining cold pastry cream in to incorporate in two batches (because I made another recipe for the pastry cream, I approximated the amount of pastry cream to use, about 2/3 of the whole recipe of Dorie's).

In a stand mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment (I used a hand mixer to blend the whipping cream since is was a small amount), whip the cream until it holds medium-stiff peaks. Immediately fold the whipped cream into the pastry cream with a rubber spatula. Refrigerate until fully chilled.

To Assemble:

Since the components can be made over the course of a day or two, the cake is actually easy to assemble, the sponge is a dream to cut hardly losing any crumbs at all. Line the sides, but not the bottom of the 8 inch springform pan with plastic wrap. The easiest way I found to do that was to fit the bottom on top of the wrap, then cut off the excess from underneath. I used tape to fix the bottom of the pan to a glass serving platter.

Place one half of the sponge into the bottom of the pan, and brush heavily with the syrup (sauce). Fit the strawberries decoratively around the sides of the pan. Help keep them in place by piping the pastry cream in around them, and then piping a thin layer of pastry cream across the bottom. Smooth, and fill with a layer of sliced strawberry and then top with the remaining pastry cream filling. (This should bring you to the top of the springform pan.) Top with the remaining sponge cake layer, and brush heavily with syrup (sauce). See pictures below.

Just before leaving with my cake, I whipped another half cup of heavy cream with just a tablespoon of confectioner's sugar and 2 t. more orange liqueur. I spread it across the top in a thin layer and garnished with a strawberry. I cut off additional plastic wrap from the top of the springform pan, so all I'd have to do to unmold it is open the springform and peel away the sides. Even though my layers were not perfectly even, the cake was neat in appearance and stayed together well. I refrigerated it as recommended, at least 4 hours before transporting it. It cut much easier than I expected, and the slices held their shape.

Even though my finished recipe wasn't quite as pretty as our host's, I was still happy with the result. It really is an elegant cake for Summer, which could be easily adapted to any fruit and liqueur combination. I look forward to having an excuse to make it again! Even though it seems a touch time consuming, the work can be split over a day or two and the finished cake assembly time is nominal - a half hour at best.

Thank you to Jana for an interesting challenge!

**Note to Self:

I did make the failed pastry cream and the leftover Dorie Greenspan pastry cream into strawberry ice cream. I blended the pastry creams with a cup of yogurt and 1/4 c. of leftover strawberry jam/syrup runover in a blender and got it nice and cold. It tasted exactly like frozen strawberry cheesecake, I think because the yogurt added a bit of a sour tang. I'd make it again, actually - and definitely won't be too sad if I ever have failed pastry cream again.

Dehydrated Granola.

2011-07-26T22:06:00.002-05:00

Last week, I happened to notice a bookmark and comment I left on a recipe more than a year ago. It's shouldn't be so surprising when time passes so quickly, but it always is. Little glimpses into my thought patterns from a while back are kind of strange. Who was that person who commented then? What was I eating and obsessing over? When the comment is left on a staple like granola, it isn't too hard to remember the reason why I bookmarked it - but it is easy to see why I forgot about it, since I only inherited a dehydrator somewhat recently.

Now a granola recipe from a blog entitled Roasting Rambler has to be great, right? And, it is - that's for sure. I actually made it without tweaking (the last photo on this post), well, I barely tweaked it, for the first time last week, all those months after I had forgotten that the idea of drying out a paste granola was absolutely brilliant. I wasn't disappointed either. It was super crunchy and delicious, my hand and both of my Kiddo's hands both made swift work of the rather small batch over the course of the week.

Yesterday after breakfast, I was hit by the urge to organize my spice cupboard. It's actually one of my favorite things about my kitchen, and contains a lot more than just spices. The top shelf appropriately holds my modest liquor cabinet. The next down, canning jars of bulk grains, nuts and seeds. Then, my shelves of spices: one shelf holds jars contained in a wooden filing box I found at a rummage, and another two baskets of miscellaneous must haves from Spice House wanderings (and things that I use in close proximity like extracts, brown sugar, cocoa powder, cornstarch. The bottom shelf is for oils, molasses, honey, sugar jar.

In the late 40's when my house was built, I assume that having such a convenient nook for cooking and baking essentials was still prerequisite for the modern housewife. I like considering myself a modern housewife who appreciates it still. I do not like that it frequently needs going through, as I tend to toss things in there despite my constantly renewed vows that I will keep it organized and faced, beautiful to look at when the shuttered door swings open.

With the success of dehydrated granola still implanted, I consolidated my jars. I discovered dried dates that were almost brittle with age, dried figs that were surprisingly soft enough to tear in two, several cranberries that were past their eating-out-of-hand prime. Using the same proportions as the Roasting Rambler's original recipe, I concocted another dehydrated granola - excited that the possibilities for this were endless.

The base of the granola is dried fruit mixed with lemon juice and enough water to make it run easily through the food processor blade. I found both times I've made it that I didn't need the full amount of water, just add it until the mixture is homogeneous and moves freely. I also found that the double batch amount that I've listed below has no trouble being mixed in the food processor. If you would double my amounts listed, it's possibly you may run into some blending trouble depending on the age of your dried fruits...

Dehydrated Granola (original recipe from the Roasting Rambler, adapted)

12 mixed dried fruit (I used about half dates, then figs and cranberries)
14 oz. total nuts and/or seeds (I used a 12 oz. mixture of crispy almonds, walnuts and peanuts, and 2 oz. sesame seed)
1 lemon, juiced
1 t. salt (you may wish to use a tad less)
1 t. cinnamon
1 t. vanilla
1 c. water
2 oz. unsweetened coconut (I use a brand like this)
1 oz. cacao nibs

In a food pro, pulse the nuts (I leave the sesame seeds out, since they are so small anyway) until they are a uniform consistency that you would prefer in your granola, about 15 one second pulses. Empty them into a large bowl.

Add dried fruit to food pro, and pulse to chop. Add the lemon juice, salt, cinnamon and vanilla, and run the processor to blend the mixture well. With the motor running, add the water through the top until the mixture is like a runny paste. (I'm imagining I will add cocoa powder to the mixture at this point sometime...)

Scrape the dried fruit paste into the bowl with the nuts and add in the sesame seeds (if you didn't add them to the nut mixture), the coconut and the cacao nibs. Stir well to combine.

Spread the mixture on two dehydrator trays lined with parchment paper. Try to spread it as thin and as even as possible, without worrying about it too much. Dehydrate (I used 147 degrees) for 8-12 hours, longer if it still isn't brittle when you check it.

Break into pieces and store in glass jars. I like to keep excess of all granola in the freezer if I have the space, since I feel that it stays crunchier - but it's not necessary I'm sure.

fruit paste.

the granola mixture prior to dehydration.

spread as thin as possible.

after dehydrating.

I got 2 1/2 quart jars full of dehydrated granola. I keep my dehydrator in the basement, and when I ran busily up and downstairs, trekking clean laundry to the clotheslines I kept peeking in to look at it. Laundry complete, I then forgot all about it until this morning, when the machine had turned itself off, and it was done: crunchy, brittle shards just waiting to be broken in my hands.

I want to more fully embrace my dehydrator this year. Since it came to live with me, I don't feel I've given it the usage it deserves. I have quite a lot of tart cherries on the way, and think I'll enter the world of fruit leathers as well as dried fruit. We made fruit leathers when I was a kid, but I don't think I've had one since. I'm fairly excited to puree something cherry and apricotish in the VitaMix to try out. Come Fall, I may even try candying my own cranberries, if I can get past the tradition of just making and then eating a whole batch of these instead.

It seems like I'm starting to feel like I can barely keep up. I remember often my Mom telling me that it felt like her 30's came in "clumps", the time just flew with the business of child raising, food prep and preservation, gardening and yard work. I like to think that I have unending stamina, that I can work until my hands positively bleed, sleep 3 hours and then get up and work some more. But today I'm tired. I slept on the couch this afternoon in full sight of a basket of unfolded laundry. I didn't do the lunch dishes until after 7 pm, after a nighttime library nature program where my son was transformed into the cutest ant ever. I refuse to admit that I need sleep, and I do - though now it's getting late and that nap is beginning to make me feel like I could go all night. I probably should since I have 4 pounds of dilly beans to pickle...

I suppose they will still be there in the morning, when a handful of this new granola makes itself my breakfast with a few tart cherries that I had to buy from a favorite orchard owner today. It could be disheartening to think of all the things I've forgotten out there that are likely as great as this granola. It's disheartening to think that my memory isn't quite as sharp as it used to be. For now, I remember what I need when I need it I guess.

When Slaw Becomes Kraut...

2011-07-19T22:07:00.006-05:00

Time flies. I can't believe it was an entire year ago that I first met Annie Wegner LeFort at a cooking class she taught at the Bay View Community Center. I also can't believe how that chance meeting has impacted my cooking life ever since. Yesterday I took another of her classes, this one on allergy-free vegetarian cooking, and I find myself inspired all over again.

Jicama Apple Cumin Kraut.

While I have my doubts in organized education, I love learning. I especially love learning from people who are naturally great teachers. Now that I'm not required by society to be educating myself, I enjoy immensely sitting in a classroom surrounded by people of wildly different backgrounds, and learning for the sake of learning.

I have only known a handful of people with food allergies, including some in my family. Usually, it was a peanut allergy or "milk intolerance", allergies that seemed ordinary compared to today's onslaught of wheat and egg allergies. When he was younger, my Dad developed an allergy to shrimp, and I've had my own brushes with reactions to specific foodstuffs (raspberries, oysters) that thankfully seem to have subsided. There are many ideas floating around as to why food allergies of all kinds are increasing, and rather than debate the cause I find it more entertaining to explore the cooking and baking resulting from it.

I think if I was ever diagnosed with a serious, life changing food allergy, I would choose to look at all of the amazing things I could still eat. (I would count it beneficial if I could possibly be allergic to sugar, in fact.) One of the recipes that Annie made for us last night was a cabbage slaw with jicama, green apple and a good amount of cumin, something delicious everyone should eat regardless of allergy issues. I knew straight away I would have to make this myself, and to lacto-ferment it since it does use cabbage after all.

There are not many more humble or healthy things than cabbages, and today at the farmer's market, I got a rather large one for $1.00.

Strangely, Annie was the one who unknowingly inspired me to play around with lacto-fermentation. Several years ago, I got a copy of Nourishing Traditions gifted to me in a round about way. I opened and perused, dismissed most of it as "a little out there", and went on eating a relatively low-fat, skim milk diet that I assumed was healthy. I would definitely say that after discovering the Raisin-Cilantro Chutney that Annie made last year, my eyes were opened. I really began to read in many different sources, including Nourishing Traditions, about nutrient rich and real foods, fermented foods, and why they were better for me. More importantly, these types of foods required me to dote on them, conjure them into existence where they change before my eyes and taste buds. This was the kind of food I was born to make, and maybe I would never have discovered if it weren't for her.

One of the most interesting things about lacto-fermentation in particular, is that nearly anything can be given the inoculation of whey (and if you are dairy-free, salt can usually stand in unless fruit is present) and be transformed into bubbling, probiotic goodness. The slaw from our class Monday night was delicious right away, but in three day's time, I suspect it will be even more complex.

When lacto-fermenting cabbage, I use a large, food service bucket. It keeps everything nicely inside since it's 8 quarts deep, and the markings help me judge how much it has reduced and what size jar I'll likely need to pack it into. I altered the amounts of Annie's original Marinated Cabbage Salad, and adapted it for lacto-fermenting by adding whey. In my understanding, since the slaw contains fruit, you should use whey to introduce the lactobacillus and not rely solely on the salt.

Lacto-Fermented Jicama Apple Cumin Kraut (adapted from Annie Wegner Lefort)

half of a good size cabbage, cored
2/3 of a softball sized jicama
half of a medium sized sweet onion
1 large green apple
1 1/2 t. sea salt
juice of half a lemon
2 T. whey
2 t. cumin powder (to taste)
1/4 - 1/2 t. cayenne powder (to taste)
handful of basil leaves, chopped

Prepare the vegetables: using a food pro or by hand, shred the cabbage and jicama. Thinly slice the apple and onion.

Place vegetables, salt, lemon juice, whey, and spices in a large bowl or bucket and beat with a sturdy wooden spoon for about 10 minutes. The mixture will release quite a lot of liquid (see the pictures below.) Add basil leaves and chop for about a minute to disperse evenly. Taste to adjust spices.

Pack the kraut into clean glass jars with very little headspace. Tightly seal, and let sit at room temperature for 3 days before transferring to cold storage.

half a good sized cabbage was greater than 2 quarts.

entire amount of veg and apple was about 4 quarts.

finished amount was about 1 1/2 quarts kraut.

This slaw has become a kraut. And, I'm too excited to wait three days to let you know just how good it has become! I promise I will update the post when I crack open a jar on Friday or Saturday. And meanwhile if you don't want to lacto-ferment it, you can wilt the cabbage and onion with salt for a few hours, pour off the liquid, add in the rest of the ingredients (except the whey) with a 1/3 c. melted coconut oil and a little bit of honey or stevia and you'll have Annie's original recipe. (She does make a dressing with the oil, lemon juice, spices and sweetener and then adds to the vegetables.)

this is the same jar when pressed lightly with a spoon. when lacto-fermenting, you want the liquid to rise above the vegetables.

The only thing I could dislike about making lacto-ferment vegetables is the mess. I had all of my counters clean when I started, and no matter my attentiveness, I had cabbage everywhere. Luckily it's easy enough to clean up, and the jars handsomely resting on the counters in plain sight are reward enough.

I hope I never tire of taking classes. My Gram took classes well into her 60's on different things, and she certainly never stopped reading and learning on her own. I hope that will be me: that I never lose the incentive to read and that I continue to run into great teachers and inspiration from unlikely sources.

You can find a list of Annie's upcoming classes here, and while you're at it, take a look around her blog for just some of the reasons she is so inspiring!

Strawberries. With Chiles.

2011-07-13T07:00:00.007-05:00

Strawberry jam has never really been one of my favorite things, though the strawberry itself is. I I feel that not much can improve the natural sweetness of early Summer berries, and adding a boatload of sugar to jam boosts that sweetness to a level that almost makes my teeth hurt just thinking about it. Nevertheless, I make strawberry jam every year.

My strawberry season is late this year. My 16 quarts of Amish grown and picked berries were delivered to me last weekend by my Parents, who came to celebrate the Kiddo's birthday. The berries were close to the final picking, and were smaller than the first pickings, but they were sweet and delicious and I was thankful for them.

In the past, my strawberry jam was always made with boxed pectin, but as a recent convert to pectin-free jams I may just find that my stigma against strawberry jam is over. Although the sugar is still high, the soft set of the jam is much more desirable to me - and deciding to add some chiles to the jam pot tempers the too-sweet phenomenon with a deep earthy undertone.

I've seen a number of strawberry-chile recipes around, and originally thought I'd make this one: Tigress's Strawberry Chipotle jam. I do love chipotle, but thought that making a batch may limit my consumption and gifting options. Chipotle is a strong chile flavor, and although I love it, I wanted a soft, what-is-that? flavor. Ever remembering Rick Bayless's words declaring the stately Guajillo chile the "workhorse", I dipped into my large bagful and chose two brick red specimens to include.

I based the recipe on Linda Zeidrich's Strawberry Orange Jam in The Joy of Jams, Jellies, and Other Sweet Preserves. I altered her method a little, since I combined all the ingredients and let them sit at room temperature for about 24 hours. I think 12 hours would have sufficed. I didn't mash the berries until I began to cook them down. Curious as I am, I lifted the lid on the pot several times when the berries were relaxing. I knew orange and guajillo worked well on pork, and figured they could only improve berries too - but the seductiveness of strawberry-guajillo jam was too interesting for words. Spoons dipped in, I followed the mellowing process to discover the chiles adding the mildest bit of heat, but the strongest undertone of warmth. Indeed, the finished jam coated the back of my throat in coziness, a nice departure from the tongue-stinging bite I usually demand from chile. This is one recipe that I'll be making for a long time I think.

Strawberry Guajillo Jam with Orange (adapted from Linda Zeidrich)
my yield was 6 half pints

3 lbs. strawberries, hulled
1 medium sized orange
2 dried guajillo chiles, stemmed (use the seeds as well)
4 1/2 c. sugar

Remove the zest of the orange with a peeler, and slice into thin shreds. Squeeze out the orange juice and add to the berries in a non-reactive preserving pot. Chop the guajillo chiles into small pieces and add to the pot. Add sugar, stir carefully to combine, and let the pot sit covered at room temperature for 8-12 hours, or longer if you have to.

When ready to make the jam, heat the pot over medium heat and stir gently to fully dissolve the sugar. Raise the heat, continue cooking until the jam boils, mashing with a masher to break up the fruit as desired and skimming off the foam, until a drop of jam mounds slightly in a dish. (I had a number of dishes in the freezer to use as testers, but didn't use them at all. You can really feel when the consistency of the jam changes as you stir.)

Ladle the jam into sterilized jars, add lids and rings, and process for 10 minutes in a hot water bath.

(I have not made my own pectin, which I plan on trying. This can be done with high-pectin fruit such as green apple or gooseberry. My jams boiled away for quite a while before reaching the jam point, the added pectin would reduce that. But like I've said before, if I'm rich in anything, it's time...)

after sitting overnight.

the finished jam. softly set, perfectly gorgeous.

I actually bought the Linda Ziedrich book I mentioned above for my Mom this past Mother's Day. I had rented and read it from the library, and figured that she and I both would enjoy the use of it in our own shared library. She brought it down when she came, and I hungrily reread the opening "Preserver's Primer" where Linda gives an overview of the history of preserving and the tables of pectin and acid contents of fruits. Then, I happily skipped to the recipes on strawberries, figuring to choose 2. Thinking of shrunken heads and whole fruit preserves, I made the extremely high sugar strawberry preserve recipe. I didn't add anything to her recipe, though next time I may like a little diversity. The berries did turn out well, very sweet, and I think this will be a case where I use the preserve in something else that tames the sweetness rather than to slather it heavily on jam.

resting.

I had just a little 2 oz. jar leftover that I could taste when fully cool, and it was still super sweet. the berries were a great texture, however.

Now 10 jars of jam are resting on the shelf, but my favorite strawberry preservation method is just to hull, wash, dry and pack the whole berries into quart jars and then freeze them. Of my more than 16 lbs of berries, 5 1/2 were made into jam, a pound or two disappeared in fresh eating, and the rest are frozen in the deep freeze. I can usually finagle a few frozen berries out with a butter knife for smoothies, or better, I defrost a whole quart. When the berries are still half frozen, I cut them in half or quarters, and sprinkle them with just a bit of sugar. Then, they taste like their true strawberry selves, even if not able to be spread thickly upon bread. (Though if the bread has cream cheese on it first, it will work in a pinch!)

It seems I can never appropriately judge the volume of a container; I can't tell you how much extra dish washing I have done because of this. I suspect I've lost a week of my time to poor judgement, but I find it kind of funny. Frequently I can be overheard talking to myself - congratulating myself on my great spacial handicap, but fortunately the errors in my judgement usually only pertain to volume.

When I add chiles to sweets or savories, it always proves to be good judgement, and makes up for any disheartening times I've had meanwhile. I'm imagining even now that a spoonful of strawberry-guajillo jam stirred into hot chocolate may be transcendent, though I will wait until Fall for that. Meanwhile, I'll wonder if there is anything that the Guajillo can't do. I'm not sure I love any other chile more.

Sourdough CocoNana Bread (or Just Another Reason Why I Love Dorie Greenspan)

2011-07-10T22:55:00.008-05:00

I'm sure that it's no secret that I love Dorie Greenspan. I don't really know of anyone who loves to bake who doesn't, and I think it's because in addition to her very likable personality, she also writes impeccable recipes. I consult her Baking book often, another in the stack of cookbooks that I have whole passages memorized from. Every recipe I've ever made from it has been a success: from the "adult" chocolate ganache cupcakes (gracing my CakeWalk banner above) to the Corniest Corn Muffins, each has been an instant favorite, and I'm hardly exaggerating. If you have been reading for awhile, you'll know that I don't actually own this favorite baking book of all time, instead I trek three quarters of a mile down the road and pick it up from the library every time I need it. The date due stamps are adding up over the years, and every time I check it out I wonder when I will finally break down and buy a copy of my very own.

For my Kiddo's birthday party on Saturday, I made a slew of chocolate cupcakes, and then a variation of her Perfect White Party Cake layered with Chocolate Malt Buttercream frosting for our family party later in the day. As if I would enter panic mode from not having enough chocolate to celebrate the momentous occasion of 5 years of my pride and joy, I decided to also "sourdoughize" a quick bread of Dorie's that I'd never actually tried in it's unaltered version: Coco-Nana bread.

It could be because my Parents came down to spend a couple of days (and we do love our quick breads with the morning coffee), or maybe it's because I was growing my starter bigger to be sure to have enough for plenty of pancake batter, but making this sourdough morning bread wasn't a mistake. I used a whole cup of starter and let it rise overnight until it was billowy and sweetly sour. I decided to scoop out 4 muffin-sized lumps from the rather full loaf pan after remembering my debacle with a recent cake and I'm fairly sure that proved to be a good decision. One muffin went (warm) directly into the Birthday Boy's mouth, where he promptly declared it delicious and I had no additional mess to attend to.

sourdough, overnighted.

If you plan the night before for this bread, it can be on the breakfast table in a little more than an hour. If you are in a rush, pop all of the batter into muffin papers, and they bake in roughly half the time. Either way the bread ages gracefully, gaining chocolaty depth and brownie points with children. You can easily pretend that you are having dessert for breakfast, which Dorie says is perfectly acceptable. She also says of her "coal dark morning loaf": "At first bite (it) is chocolate-chocolate, and then the banana flavor kicks in - it's altogether winning and, while it may feel decadent to have it at breakfast, it would be just as winning, if a little less racy, as a p.m. treat."

Agreed. And, seeing as my folks brought down my order of local strawberries, I'll add that sliced berries make a pretty great topping to a poundcake-sized portion as well.

Sourdough CocoNana Bread (adapted for sourdough from Dorie Greenspan - Baking From my Home to Yours)

1 c. sourdough starter (100% hydration), fed somewhat recently
1 3/4 c. AP flour
1/2 c. buttermilk (I use my yogurt that is quite thin)

1 c. cocoa powder (I used natural process)
1/2 t. salt
1 t. baking powder
3/4 t. baking soda
4 oz. (1 stick) butter
3/4 c. granulated sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 eggs
2 large bananas, slightly mashed
1/2 c. chocolate chips, or 3 oz. chopped chocolate (bittersweet recommended)

Combine the starter, flour and buttermilk in a large bowl and mix well. Cover and let stand at room temperature until risen and puffy, or until you are ready to bake, but preferably at least 8 hours.

Preheat oven to 350 and set the oven rack in the center of the oven. Prepare a loaf pan by buttering it well. Have ready some muffin tins if you deem you have too much batter to contend with for a single loaf.

Sift together the cocoa, salt, baking powder, and baking soda in a medium bowl.

In a large bowl, or bowl of a standing mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat butter at medium speed for a minute or two until softened. Add the sugars and beat for 2 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, and beat for 1 minute after each addition. (The batter may look curdled at this time, and that's normal.)

Reduce mixer speed to low, and mix in the mashed bananas. Mix in the cocoa mixture until just combined, then add the sourdough starter mixture. Mix well by machine, and if the starter is too sticky and unruly, wet your clean hands and knead the whole lot together by hand to evenly distribute the sourdough. I try to do this quickly, gently yet firmly and I use my hands since it they seem to have one up on the KitchenAid. Stir in chocolate chips or chopped chocolate if using and mix to distribute evenly.

Spread the mixture into the loaf pan/muffin tins, and place the pan/tins on a baking sheet for some extra insulation. Bake loaf for about 60-70 minutes, and muffins for 30-35 minutes, until a tester comes out clean. Let cool in pans for 5 minutes, then turn out to cool completely.

This is some seriously chocolaty bread. Near black, or "coal black" as Dorie aptly says, is the best description, and it tastes it as well. I may try to cut back on the sugar next time, but it's so good, I may totally decide not to bother. After all, I've already tricked myself into thinking it's better for me since I used sourdough...

No matter how I vary my method of mixing, whenever I make sourdough quick breads I always have telltale streaks of unruly batter. Honestly, I couldn't tell at all (taste or texture wise) in this bread. In some breads I've made, the streaks taste a little chewy - the first attempts were worse and were almost hard, little pebbles of sourdough nearly inedible.

I'm convinced that the more I work with sourdough in quick bread the better I become at incorporating it, and anyway this bread is so decadent that it draws attention away from what almost appears to be just nuts studded throughout. Maybe it's all the butter than softens it up, and maybe that's just another reason to love Dorie Greenspan and her marvelous recipes. My breakfasts are all the better for butter laden quick breads, my life enriched by Dorie and her attention to details.

This post has been Yeastspotted.

Pie in the Sky July.

2011-07-07T07:13:00.009-05:00

So it's July. What a strange year this has been in the Midwest. It seems everything is taking it's time to ramp up into full fledged Summer, and a turn of the calender recently only first brought some seriously hot weather. I know I'm a bit young for a midlife crisis, but I find myself in a crisis of sorts: why didn't my re-seeded radishes sprout? Why does the day seem to evaporate in 20 minutes? Why am I procrastinating a ton of kitchen projects? Why can't I find any tart cherries anywhere without driving half a day away? If you are wondering where I've been, it's probably because I'm too busy knitting myself a shawl for my complete transformation into "older adulthood". Granted it's a crazy color Noro shawl, but still...

The start of July also brings birthdays for both of my boys, my Husband on the 1st, and my soon-to-be 5 year old on the 9th. Both are good excuses to make cake, and this year I tried a recipe from The Art and Soul of Baking. The book is a Sur la Table book, and since the first Sur la Table opened recently in Wisconsin and I saw this book at the library, I figured I'd make a masterpiece and then have something fitting to gush over. Things never happen the way you figure however, and though the cakes tasted great, they totally lacked in the visual department.

This is partially because I used chocolate chips to make the ganache and they contain a stabilizer to prevent total melting, but it's also in part because cake knows that when I want it to rise extra high it needs to rise not quite so high. I cut out the centers of the cake to fill with whipping cream, and you can see the disks of replaced cake underneath the lumpy ganache glaze. The good news is that when refrigerated, they turned into a dense, heavy-handed chocolate punch in the face, so I was happy. And, happy that I also made full 5 egg yolk vanilla ice cream to go alongside.

I glazed them over a pan, and collected all the run-over ganache into a bowl and ran it through a strainer, something I should have done to begin with. A little jar of perfectly silky ganache is my reward, though I've been doing little but eating it by the spoonful...

I've enjoyed a string of unusual lunches recently. My Husband has been working later in the evenings lately, which cause me to feel even more like a diner's short-order cook. I hardly mind that, but instead mind that when we don't eat together my picky Kiddo (I think at 5 years old he's graduated to an older moniker) gets off easier in the trying something new department. I do usually get a bite or two of something new in him without too much fuss, but I tell you I am perplexed with his eating habits. For a kid who from birth was introduced to everything under the sun, I have no idea where it comes from. When I made the blackberry jam and insisted that he try a spoonful, he screamed and ran to his room. Jam! I have serious troubles.

While at dinner I am more demanding that we eat the same thing, lunches are a different story and we eat "leftovers" - whatever is already made or can be made from stuff already made. Here are a few of my favorites. They were also posted on my facebook page, if some of you think they sound familiar.

Eugenia Bone's recommend of omelet topped with pickled radishes. The pickled radishes are some of my favorite things in a long time, and I feel like this year I have given them my personal press that I did the candied jalapenos in the past. Amazingly, they are good on almost everything, and the leftover vinegar in the jar is great on salad. I use Bragg's cider vinegar, and hope sincerely that this Fall I can start my own cider vinegar. I think I'll have an apple press to get me on my way if I'm lucky.

Burnt-bottom pizza crust topped with hummus, bolted cilantro and well-fermented cortido. When I grilled pizza and the Kiddo didn't immediately devour his dough I knew something was amiss - it was that the bottom of his small dough was black. Not black in spots, but completely black. I actually stood with the half of leftover black-bottom crust (his idea of pizza is dough and sauce only, nothing else) in my hand over the garbage for a full minute before deciding to save it, and I was so glad I did. The black burnt bottom was surprisingly tasty when combined with cortido, and as I bonus, I remembered that I should eat the cortido that I lacto-fermented last August.

This one was actually supper, since it was an evening without all of us. I fried 3 pieces of bacon, "bacon ham" being one of the meats that my Kiddo happily eats, and used most of the fat to cook some red onion and a bunch of rainbow chard that I had got at the farmer's market last Saturday and then piled it on top of some scrambled eggs. I forget how much I love chard, and forget why I don't make it more often, since greens of any kind are something my Husband loves. When I ate it, I actually topped it with the other half of the sourdough English muffin - still one of my favorite things. English muffins are my Summer Bread Saviors since I always have them in the freezer, a good thing when I don't feel like heating up the kitchen.

It's not like I'm not cooking or eating or enjoying both cooking and eating lately, but it seems like I've not a lot to report. We're spending a whole lot of time outside and eating and cooking comes usually without too much planning. I spend more and more time away from the computer, am dreadfully behind at keeping up with my Internet friends. Part of this Summer weighs heavy on me since my boy is growing right before my eyes. I find myself just staring at him, wondering how he grew so fast, and in an instant I feel older. He will go to school this Fall all day. All Day! When he first nestled into my arms at 20 inches long, I never could have imagined that a big part of my day wouldn't contain him at some point, yet that is the barrel I'm staring down. I'm not that glowing new mother with a beautiful baby anymore. I'm the one that looks a little frazzled from repeatedly asking her wild kid to behave in public.

What time I feel I don't have to freely explore the worlds of cheese (and vinegar - I just had to dump my developing once-gorgeous wine version when I discovered black mold across the mat), I know I'll have in spades when I'm drinking my morning coffee in silence in a couple of months. Meanwhile, I fight back against this new feeling of "oldness", that my naturally night-owled self is transformed to an early to bed, early to rise self due to a Kiddo that can't wait to play himself into an early supper, bath, reading, and sleep regimen. If I seem a bit sparse this Summer, you may now know the reason why.