Sourdough Hybrid Pizza Dough.

Is it terribly American of me to feel like I could eat pizza at least once a week, if not more often? I'm not talking about frozen or delivery pizza mind you, but pizzas of my own concoction, made usually with leftovers on all accounts. For the past month, I dove more in depth into sourdough pizza dough, playing on variations of Peter Reinhart's non-sourdough version in Crust and Crumb.

early June (sourdough) pizza, baked in oven.

You'd think that Peter had asked me personally to run P.R. for that cookbook, but I can not help how excited I get when ratios seem to be perfect no matter what you do to vary them. So far, each loaf I've tried has been stellar: my results only failing when my patience for the rising wanes or when I suspect my starter isn't vigorous enough. Not once, however, has a loaf emerged that was inedible... and the same can be said of this pizza dough.

I have had a few hard and fast rules of pizza. I always bake at 500 or higher, and on a stone. I always topped with cheese after the pizza was mostly cooked. This endearing dough has me changing my once cemented pizza ideals. I've lowered my temps a bit to cater to it and pop the entire pizza into the oven with cheese and all. In exactly 10 minutes, I'm ready to eat pizza - and usually the dishes are done meanwhile. It's also a thicker crust, blistered outside with plenty of tunneling holes submerged within the outer crust. It's a pleasant escape from super thin (and nonetheless addicting) Lahey crust, and I love that it's fast, freezes well, and bakes directly from the fridge.

It's hard to get an idea of the weight of dough from a photograph. This dough is not at all dense, it's appearance is shocking to the actual weight of the dough - it feels airy, light. Because it contains both sourdough and active dry yeasts (what I affectionately call "hybrid dough"), it seems to have the best of both worlds when considering flavor and time spent.

It does it's second rise in the dark, cold privacy of the refrigerator and finally the time comes to bake: reaching in for a pleasantly plump, well risen orb is always a surprise - the dough is resilient, not prone to deflation without some coercion. It's the dough dreams are made of, and since I'm so addicted to Reinhart's bread that requests me to have a firm starter (rather than the 100% hydration that sits on the counter) going most of the time in the fridge, if I even have an inkling that I want pizza for supper it can be done in fairly short order.

Reinhart's dough uses a poolish, a pre-ferment starter made the day before from instant yeast. Instead, I use firm starter (also the base of the Reinhart Pain Au Levain that I love so well). With a little feel for the dough, you can probably use any type of starter if you also alter slightly the amount of liquid in the recipe.

Reinhart's recipe also calls for buttermilk. I make a viili style yogurt which is much more runny than commercial yogurt and substitute it often. I've also used whey, or whey mixed with some strained (Greek-style) yogurt. The dough should feel "soft, stretchy, and tacky, somewhat like baguette dough", but poolish starter is likely a bit higher in hydration. This dough is not so sticky, but more satiny, like the feel of an under-inflated balloon. A bit of practice will guide you to the correct feel, so long as you don't stray too far from the ratio.

(To make firm starter enough for this recipe: combine 1 c. 100% hydration sourdough starter with 1 c. bread flour and about 2 T. water, just enough to form the dough into a ball. Knead it lightly for a minute, and let it ferment at room temperature for 4 hours. Transfer to the refrigerator for at least 8 hours and up to 3 days. This starter is very sticky, using wet fingers will help. Let the firm starter sit at room temperature for an hour before using if you can, although I have used it right from the fridge in a pinch. The rising time for the pizza dough may be slightly longer if you do that.)

Sourdough Hybrid Pizza Dough (adapted from Peter Reinhart)

• 1 lb. (3 1/2 c.) bread flour
• 1 1/2 t. salt
• 1 T. instant yeast
• 1 T. honey or sugar
• 2 T. olive oil
• 3/4 c. buttermilk (Reinhart says to use it at room temp, but I never remember to take it out and cold seems to be fine, first rise time may increase a tad...)
• 8 oz. firm starter
• (additional room temperature water - as needed, about 1/4 c.)
  

Combine everything in a stand mixer. (You may also do this by hand). Mix with dough hook on low speed for 1 minute, then increase speed to medium and continue mixing 10-12 minutes. (If kneading by hand, mix in bowl until dough forms, then transfer to floured board and knead 12-15 minutes.) I usually have to add a little water to get the dough up to the right consistency. Dough is ready when it passes the windowpane test, and feels neutral in temperature.

Place in a clean bowl, cover, and let rise until it "swells noticeably", about an hour.

On a floured surface, divide dough. (You can make anywhere from 3-6 pizzas, I usually make 4.) Roll the pieces into balls (This is a good video to see how to form the balls: Peter Reinhart visits a LaBrea bakery which is using huge portions and is somewhat mechanized, but you can see how the dough is shaped by hand. This is how I "rolled" dough when I worked at a bakery.)

Place shaped balls on a lightly floured baking sheet that has first been lined with a silpat or parchment paper. Enclose the whole pan inside a plastic bag, and transfer to the fridge. Let it rise at least one hour, and up to 48 hours. You can also freeze the dough after this second rise, it will retain it's lift for up to 3 weeks. (I freeze the balls on the baking sheet until hard, then transfer to a zip top plastic bag with a date on it.)

To bake in oven, heat to 475 (Reinhart says 550, I've done 500 - depends on my mood) with a baking stone in the lower third of the oven. Press dough to deflate, and stretch using hands, knuckles, rolling pin if you like, to desired thickness. Leave a thicker amount of dough around the outside edge. Transfer dough to a peel that has been sprinkled well with cornmeal, top and bake until the top is golden.

I decided, since I'm newly addicted to baking on my grill, to grill pizza tonight. Having never done it before, I'd say I have some learning to do. I had the heat pretty high, and the bottom was "nicely caramelized" (a.k.a. kinda burnt). It didn't stop us from eating the whole thing, but next time, I have to remember to throw some unglazed quarry tiles down to temper the heat. The top didn't brown, but everything was cooked through, and even though the bottom was a bit blackened and extra crisp, it wasn't really unpleasant. There was still a good amount of chew to the outside edge, and I have to put yet another mention out there for the candied jalapeno, which is the crown jewel of my homemade pantry. Every bite tastes better with a candied pepper.

grilled pizza.


oven pizza. so far, I'd say the oven version is better - but I'll still try grilling one again.

I think I need something hot on every pizza I've ever eaten because of my Mom. As long as I can remember she eats pizza with peppers alongside, either her own pickled jalapenos in oil and vinegar, or as a last resort purchased pepperoncinis. She orders them on the side if we happen to eat pizza out, but also like my Mom, we tend to make our pizzas at home rather than do that. We may not have the ovens of the professionals, but we do our best - and this crust makes me feel one little step closer to the unattainable Perfection of Pizza.

This post has been Yeastspotted.

Baklava: Daring Baker Challenge June 2011

Erica of Erica’s Edibles was our host for the Daring Baker’s June challenge. Erica challenged us to be truly DARING by making homemade phyllo dough and then to use that homemade dough to make Baklava.

I kind of cheated this month. As you may have noticed, I sat last month out: the marquise dessert was just too rich for a personal dessert, and I had no excuse to make it to share with others. When I read this month's challenge was to make phyllo dough, I felt a little crushed. I had recently tried making it for the April Daring Baker Challenge, and determined that to even try to make it well I would need another pair of hands to help me stretch it. Not being overly organized in planning such a helping party, I decided not to try it at this time.

But I have never made baklava at home, so I figured I would do so using the organic phyllo dough that I recently spotted at my co-op. Cheating? Maybe. But so delicious was this version of baklava that I'm glad I didn't sit out another month just because I didn't want to try my hand at making the dough again.

Baklava is one of my most favorite sweets. When I worked second shift, I'd occasionally stop by a 24-hour Greek restaurant on my way home to sit at the counter and get a coffee and a thick syrupy square that I'd eat painstakingly slow while reading on the side and watching the Greek boys cooking through the pass thru window. The combination of flaky, crisp dough and dense sugar soaked nuts still makes me excited, even though it very nearly makes my teeth hurt to eat it. Why I've never made it before, I have no idea. Oh wait - I do know why. It's because I would have a hard time rationing myself of it's overwhelming allure to my palate.

I do not watch a whole lot of cooking t.v., in fact never unless I DVR it first. But for some reason, not too long ago I watched an old episode of Alton Brown's Good Eats in which he made baklava. I was so impressed with his approach. Had I decided to make this dessert before the 25th (for the 27th posting deadline), I would have also made my own rose water as he did.

I made the nut combination of almond, pistachio and walnut from his recipe for the April challenge and it was so great that I couldn't wait to try it layered between phyllo and saturated with thick honey syrup. But this time, I did not use the "crispy nuts" technique, and used raw nuts blended with Jamaican allspice and cassia cinnamon. I like this particular combination of nuts so well, I think it would be a good substitute in lots of nutty things.

The result was a perfect combination of sweet spice and flowers - heavy, heady and tasting of far away. I almost thought I'd liked to have added some black pepper to the filling, playing up the bitterness of the allspice a bit more. Maybe next time... I also used regular melted butter instead of clarified, being short of time. (I know that is not a good excuse. There is also no good excuse I didn't grind my own spices either, but I only had powdered allspice on hand. It was fresh from the Spice House as was the Cassia cinnamon, so I'll stand by my conversion. I tasted the nut mixture on a fingertip until I was satisfied of the flavor, you could do the same.

I realized after that I also forgot the sugar in the filling, and to be honest I didn't even miss it. The honey syrup makes the finished dessert plenty sweet. I used half of the amounts of Alton's original recipe, it fit well in a 8x8 square glass baking dish.

Baklava (slightly altered from Alton Brown)

Filling:

• 2 t. ground cinnamon
  
• 1/2 t. (plus) ground allspice
• 3 oz. blanched almonds
• 3 oz. raw walnuts
• 3 oz. raw pistachios
• 1/8 cup water
• 1/2 t. rose water
• 8 oz. phyllo dough, thawed
• 4 oz. melted butter

For the syrup:

• 1/2 + 1/8 c. honey
  
• 1/2 + 1/8 c. water
• 1/2 + 1/8 c. sugar
• 1 small cinnamon stick
• 1 (2-inch) piece fresh orange peel

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Place the almonds, walnuts, pistachios, and spices into the bowl of a food pro and pulse until finely chopped, but not pasty or powdery, approximately 15 quick pulses. Set aside.
Combine the water and rose water in a small spray bottle bottle and set aside.
Trim the sheets of phyllo to fit the bottom of the pan (mine was 8x8, glass). Brush the bottom and sides of the pan with butter; lay down a sheet of phyllo and brush with butter. Repeat this step 9 more times for a total of 10 sheets of phyllo. Top with 1/3 of the nut mixture and spread thinly. Spritz thoroughly with the rose water. Layer 6 more sheets of phyllo with butter in between each of them, followed by another third of the nuts and spritz with rose water. Repeat with another 6 sheets of phyllo, butter, remaining nuts, and rose water. Top with 8 sheets of phyllo brushing with butter in between each sheet. Brush the top generously with butter. Place in the oven and bake for 30 minutes. Remove pan from the oven and cut into 28 squares. Return pan to the oven and continue to bake for another 30 minutes. Remove pan from the oven to a cooling rack and cool for 2 hours before adding the syrup.
Make the syrup during the last 30 minutes of cooling. Combine the honey, water, sugar, cinnamon stick and orange peel in a small saucepan and set over high heat. Stir occasionally until the sugar has dissolved. Once boiling, boil for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat and discard the peel and cinnamon stick.
After the baklava has cooled for 2 hours, re-cut the entire pan following the same lines as before. Pour the hot syrup evenly over the top of the baklava, allowing it to run into the cuts and around the edges of the pan. Allow the pan to sit, uncovered until completely cool. Alton says to cover and store at room temperature for at least 8 hours and up to overnight before serving and to store, covered at room temperature for up to 5 days, but I like my baklava cold, straight from the fridge, just like they serve it at Greek restaurants.

This was a great dessert, that's really all I can say. If you like baklava anyway, this version is likely to become a fast favorite. And as for homemade phyllo dough: I'm all for homemade everything, but some things are just meant to be purchased I think. Machine made phyllo is consistent and thinner than I could ever hope my own to be... I hope one day I can unravel the mystery of Homemade Phyllo Dough, but for now, I'm content with my accomplishments.

Thanks to Erica for choosing a great dessert this month!

Pectin-Free Blackberry (Punk) Jam.

This year, it appears I've accidentally fallen into making pectin-free jams. I didn't really intend to, I just never purchased any boxes of liquid or powder and then discovered upon reading that it's really not necessary anyway. Sure, packaged pectin makes a batch of jam go a little more quickly, but if it is one thing I am rich in it's time.

My first pectin-free batch was Tigress's rhubarb-lavender jam, which if you need a super delicious jam and happen to love rhubarb is certainly worth your time. I LOVE it: in yogurt, on toast, plain on a spoon. I'm so glad I have 10 half pints sitting on the shelf, since it will likely be gifted to many people and devoured personally. That batch was also my first canning experience this season, which tends to open the floodgates of food preservation via the hot water bath for me. "What else can I can?" all of a sudden becomes my mantra, inspiration coming from unlikely sources.

not bad for iPhone photography in my opinion...

The same day that Punk Domestics announced a Punkberry theme for the summer, my Mother-in-Law asked me to go shopping with her. Although I didn't need anything (except we were also going to a garden center) I perused. I found 18 oz. packages of giant California blackberries at a good price, and they were organic. For about 10$, I got 2 lbs. 5 oz. when I weighed them at home, the perfect amount for a small batch of blackberry jam. I have never concocted my own canning recipe before, and I really wanted to come up with something punky for Punk Domestics. I'm a little early for the July submission date, but this jam can't wait. I am so excited that it worked well and tastes great!

Small batches of jam, as it turns out, are actually better for pectin-free jams, especially ones containing fruit that doesn't have a whole lot of natural pectin. Blackberries, according to one chart I found, are kind of in the middle of the road for pectin containing, whereas the rhubarb jam I started with ranks higher. I still have a lot to learn about pectin-free jam, I almost feel like my jam got too "jammed" by the time it cooled - even though it looked and reacted perfectly to the "plates-in-the-freezer" test. I like the texture, even though it got a little more solid than I was expecting.

What is more Punk than booze? Not much, I'd say. After considering some kind of herby blackberry jam, I settled on a tamer, slightly more ordinary orange version. I figured it would be a good excuse to use a little of my homemade orange liqueur from earlier this year, and I think I was right. The result was tart-sweet jam with a slight booze kick from my not-quite-mellowed liqueur. My ratio was based on methods from Linda Ziedrich (via Julia) and a photocopied recipe for Strawberry Grand Marnier jam that I found in a book from the library. I used weight measurement on the sugar since I used raw, a good conversion table is here.

Pectin-Free Blackberry Punk Jam
yield 3 half pints

• 2 lbs., 5 oz. blackberries, washed and lightly dried
• zest of one (organic) orange, grated
  
• 540 g. sugar
• 2 T. lemon juice
• 1/4 c. orange liqueur (homemade or purchased)

You may use whatever jam-making method you prefer. Since I am new to pectin-free jams this is what I did:

Put several small plates into the freezer for use as jam testers. Ready jars, hot water bath and other canning accoutrements. (Sterilize jars for 10 minutes in boiling water and keep warm. A good canning primer can be found here.)

Mash the berries, orange zest and sugar in a large non-reactive bowl and let macerate for several hours at room temperature. At this point, you can decide if you want super seedy jam, half seedy jam or seedless jam. I opted for half seedy and pushed the macerated fruit mixture through a china cap. Then, I added half of the fruit pulp back to the mixture.

In a large, non-reactive pot, heat the blackberry mixture with the lemon juice until boiling. Skim off the foam (reserve in a bowl, see below...) carefully, and continue to stir pretty regularly until the jam starts to thicken.

Test for the "jam" by dropping a teaspoon or so of jam onto a frozen plate and returning the plate to the freezer for one minute. If you can draw a line with your finger on the plate and no jam runs back into it, you should be at the jamming stage. When sure of your set, remove from heat and stir in the booze. Then fill the sterilized jars, wipe rims, add lids and ring them and process in hot water for 10 minutes. Remove from water bath and let sit for 24 hours before checking for seal.

I was so happy to be reuinited with the flavor of blackberry. I was equally excited to have some fruit pulp and reserved "foam" that I skimmed off the top... Our weather has been so chilly that my kombucha has been taking longer to brew, but this next bottling is certainly going to be blackberry and I can hardly wait. Even though the fruit pulp is super seedy, it hasn't stopped me from eating it. So what if I have to floss a little more often during the day. It's worth it in the flavor department. I have enough leftover that I may try this coffee cake too. In fact, I may do that right now. I am out of dessert after all.  (Here's a pic.)

waste not, want not: blackberry foam.

Also fortunately for me, I planned bread to be out of the oven yesterday afternoon. I shaped my new favorite Peter Reinhart bread into one large pound and a half sized loaf, and had enough dough leftover for about 5 smallish dinner rolls. I never formed sourdough bread into rolls before (except the multi-grain variation) and I liked them a lot. I happen to be a "crust person", and these babies are like all crust. They also were a grand vehicle for newly minted jam surplus.

I have not had blackberry jam in what seems like forever. Growing up in the northwoods, we had a brambly patch of blackberries, one that even though we were semi-rural my Parents had to chase tourists from every so often. We actually called the Summer people "Berry Pickers", and my Mom tells me that in the '60's (when her family ran a drive-in restaurant), come Labor Day, the business owners of the community would line state highway 51 and shout "Goodbye, Pickers!" as they all drove south back to their city homes.

The wild blueberries we picked and our cultivated maze of thorny blackberries are still some of my favorite flavors, my Mom canned both into jams. When our family moved south, to the Driftless Region closer to the Mississippi, our farm came with established raspberries. At first we were all extremely happy with this change, but forever-after it seems I have been craving the deep purple blackberry. I finally have my fix, and though it's a tiny batch that I'll hoard (excepting one jar to my Parents), it's one that I will thoroughly enjoy.

I'm going to try and go the whole Summer pectin-free. I'd like to make my own pectin as well, which doesn't seem difficult just a little uncertain due to the strength of the finished product. So far, however, I do know that it feels good not to rely on that little box of Sure-Jell, knowing that if I don't happen to have one on hand I can still preserve something handsomely. If anyone has any good pectin-related information, send the links my way!

No Waste: Radish Green Pasta

As you may or may not know, I planted radishes for the first time this year. I've always liked them, but never grew them - and I think all of my excitement for this bright red taproot is seriously messing with my brain. I finally began to harvest some of the first sowing, and being the diligent, industrious person I am, I vowed that this would be the year that I will eat (and enjoy eating) radish greens. Last year, I tried to like them. I tried to pickle them in a slightly sweet vinegar solution. I tried to convince myself that they were good, but in fact I ended up ditching them every time. It seemed such a shame: the radish root is so lovely and crunchy and addicting, but the beautiful tops I just couldn't stomach. I recently read a post by Annie Wegner-Lefort in which she minced up the greens to add to a salad, and it was her example of zero waste that inspired me to do the same.

Radish greens are beginning to remind me of parsley. One summer when I was younger, I worked on an organic farm tucked into a dead-end road that led to the end of a bluff in southwestern Wisconsin. I started in the greenhouse in March, mixing potting soil and starting seeds while cursing my employer's belief that the plant pores opened up to this high-pitched "warbling" sound that they piped into the greenhouse and out into the fields. I'm not sure if it helped, but I disliked the constant noise in an otherwise idyllic setting. I still find it sad that the constant sound is etched more into my memory than the gorgeous surroundings...

It was a small farm and I was their only non-family help. We did everything by hand, the weeding of the parsley that year fell to me. I never really liked parsley, but had read how good it was for you. I had also read that you can make yourself like something if you try it enough. I swear that by the end of an 8 hour stretch of weeding parsley, I had an indescribable taste for it, and I still have it to this day. After a day of playing around with radish greens, I feel like I'm on my way to appreciation, if not full-out enjoyment of them. I made myself the most incredible lunch today, and it was inspired completely by using up the part of the radish that normally I just get rid of.

When I posted a picture of my radish harvest on my facebook page, Neil commented with a link to a fermented condiment called gundru. Made of radish greens and a being a condiment, it sounded right up my alley! I didn't have huge amounts to contend with, just the prolific tops to about 6 radishes. I figured it was worth a shot to mash them up.

I ran the greens through the food pro first, then started mashing them in a jar.

Gundru uses no salt or whey to preserve, just radish greens, the juice they create, a glass jar, and some sun. I have a few tablespoons sitting on the counter near the window for a week, but figured that I needed more instant gratification for the bitter green sludge that I was trying so hard to like. (I also wasn't quite sure I had enough liquid released from the greens to prevent them from rotting, and I was grinding away with a mortar and pestle for about a half hour.)

For some reason, the only thing I could think of (other than adding garlic and nuts and using it on pasta) was to turn it into some pasta. I have made pasta with flavorings before, but usually prefer not to. I think this is because I first started making pasta according to Marcella Hazan's expertise in Marcella Cucina, which includes that you flavor a sauce and not the noodle. I figured Marcella would agree with the spirit of adventure, and then my radish green pasta was born.

Radish Green Pasta

• 1 c. AP flour
• 2 eggs
• pinch of salt
• about 2 T. pureed radish greens

Make a well in your flour, I do this in a bowl, and add the eggs and pureed greens. Whisk with a fork, whisking in the flour a bit at a time until all of the liquid is incorporated and a dough begins to form. Transfer the ball of dough to a floured surface, and knead until it is smooth. Marcella says to knead for 8 minutes, but I don't do it that long. Wrap it in plastic, and let it rest at room temperature for at least an hour.

Roll out dough either by hand or machine. I roll with plenty of flour to make sure the dough doesn't tear as it rolls through. I also make sure there is an extra coating of flour on the last thinness of dough rolled (6 on my machine) before putting it through the cutters. This is more important with pasta dough that has any kind of herb or green added, since the little fibers in them can cause the dough to tear. (If it does tear, just fold it back up, and start over on the thickest setting; it may make it a tad tougher, but not noticeably so.)

When cooking fresh pasta, it really only needs to cook for 4-5 minutes. It will be floating, and should taste al dente.

Yesterday afternoon, I admired my celedon noodles hanging in the kitchen as the day progressed alternately with sun and rain. Tasting it raw, I couldn't even detect the bitter radish green - it just tasted eggy and fresh. Knowing that I couldn't expect my Husband who insists he doesn't like radishes to enjoy a dinner centered around their greens, I made myself a lunch of them instead. When he saw what I was eating (having just come in from work), and after I explained it, he said that I could make it for him for supper tonight. My Husband, eating radish green pasta with butter-sauteed radish "sauce"? You couldn't have sold me that idea 24 hours ago... but it is so amazing, I'd bet anyone would love it.

A flickr contact of mine, leedav, has been making all sorts of inspired "garden grub" that I have been amazed looking at. She has inspired me to look at my little backyard plot and make something with what grew there today, which turned out to be radish roots, green onions, Russian tarragon, lemon thyme. I sauteed all of that in a little bit of butter and olive oil (or maybe it was a lot of butter, I'll never tell), a sliced garlic clove, lots of black pepper and some coarse grey salt. I think this was the best Spring lunch I've ever had, and I ate it up in my messy kitchen, wishing I had gotten up in the middle of the night to make the bread so that I could have a thick slice of it fresh on the side.

I can't stop thinking about all of the people I don't really know, but I feel like I do. These Internet acquaintances inspire me daily to be better in the kitchen, in the garden, to make the most of my free time, and to focus on what is important in life. The busy people that have time to respond to emailed questions about recipes, to give little boosts of encouragements when I need them most. This pasta and sauce would not have happened without them, and I would not be nearly as happy as I am right now. Whenever I think that maybe the whole blogging thing is a waste of time, I am overwhelmingly reminded that is is not.

On Fathers and Condiments.

I'd swear I was raised in a gypsy caravan in the English countryside. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth but as a child my imagination ran rampant with stories told by James Herriot and Roald Dahl. One of the first books I remember reading aloud with my Dad was Danny the Champion of the World, and that is where I turned from a tomgirl with waist-long braids into a full fledged boy living in a gypsy caravan with my Dad, bathing standing up in the sink (to avoid sitting in my own dirt) and drugging pheasants with spiked raisins so we could poach them, cook them, and dine like kings.

Both of my parents are really something special, people that I consider my friends as well as my life-givers. Many children naturally seem closer to their mothers, and now that I am a mother I can see why. The bond that forms when a life lives within you is really something indescribable. Mothers are the driving force of the family much of the time, certainly not in every case but often I'd say. In my world, my Mom did the cooking and stayed home with us, eschewing her own ambitions for what was best for the family, making soup from a pork chop when times were tough.

My Dad worked regular banker's hours for as long as I have known him, but always had time to take each of us fishing, mushroom hunting, on imaginary trips to England. He was the one to make us wild before bedtime, take us on bike rides and teach us about cars and trees and birds. It still seems to me that my Dad knows all of the answers, and I know that he would be able to point out a Spruce tree at a distance - something I wish I could boast as I painfully envied Peter cooking with Spruce tips this Spring. He understands plumbing and electricity, has built garages and other structures by hand, can understand and repair clocks and knows just what bird is singing when I don't even hear a bird at all. My Dad is the ultimate condiment to my life, and someone that I admire most in the world.

my first garden radish, ever. it's only the size of a marble so I have to wait a bit longer.

My Dad loves growing a garden, and I think I call him every year to ask him some question regarding planting or cultivating. This year, I called to ask him about thinning which I never really did before. I never really direct-sowed seed before, save a few peas that never really produced last year. My Dad also loves to eat, though not really to cook. It's well understood that my Dad likes to grill and make eggs, but other than that his hands slip into his pockets and he likes to observe. (He's also really great at washing dishes, but if you ever make the mistake of saying "I'll do that, Dad", he'll quickly say "OK!", and rush out of the kitchen!)

Since I seeded those radishes, I have seriously been hawk-eyed over them. I swear I'm out in the backyard 3 times a day, crouched over them, seeing if I can will them into growing faster. I'll bet even as an old woman, I will still be as excited about waiting and watching something grow from the ground, from something so small as a needle's head. Even more is my excitement since I can't seem to satiate the radish fixation I've had since about March. Yesterday when I saw beautiful local bunches for sale at my co-op, I bought one to pickle using this method from Eugenia Bone. I didn't intend to give them away, but after a taste, I knew I'd have to give them to my Dad for Father's Day.

All of a sudden, I seemed to be planning an all-food gift which is pretty much my favorite thing to give. The rest of the day I spent organizing and planning my attack.

I made bagels over the course of a day and froze them. I cooled them about an hour before slicing them almost all of the way through and freezing them.

I saw this recipe for BBQ rub at Well Preserved, another great blog that I never really read before, and before I knew it, I had a Pulled Pork Kit:

The spice rub is a blend of mustard powder, bay leaf, coffee, celery seed, garlic and onion powders. I added some cayenne, since we like spicy stuff, and kept tasting it to see if I thought it would be good. After I was happy with it, I decided that I should really make some kind of BBQ sauce to douse the pork with. I altered an Emeril recipe I found to use (my favorite condiment ever) Marisa's Tomato Jam, and I should mention that it is insanely good. It's vinegary and much thinner than corn syrup laden commercial sauces. Tasting them both together and using a bit of imagination confirms to me that this will be a good kit for making some pulled pork.

BBQ Pork Spice Rub (Well Preserved's ratio, a few minor adjustments from me)
yields about 1 c. spice rub

• 2 T. dry mustard
• 2 T. chile powder
• 4 T. onion powder
• 2 T. garlic powder (I used granulated garlic)
• 1 T. celery seed
• 1 T. kosher salt
• 1 t. (maybe more) cayenne pepper
• 2 T. ground coffee
• 3 ground bay leaves (I ground them with the coffee beans, and it smelled herby and almost floral. I was almost curious enough to brew some into a beverage...)

Blend all together.

Tomato Jam BBQ Sauce (adapted from Emeril Lagasse)
yields about 2 cups

• 1/2 c. tomato jam
• 1/2 c. ketchup
• 1 c. Bragg cider vinegar
• 1 T. yellow mustard
• 1 T. molasses
• 1/2 t. crushed red pepper

Mix everything together. That's it. Store in a glass jar.

For a good primer on what to do to make stellar pulled pork, check out Well Preserved's tips. I have even had good results doing this type of pulled pork in a slow cooker, just rubbing a spice rub into a dry chunk of meat and not even bothering to brown it. But, I have also made a charcoal grill into a "smoker", and soaked wood chips and let it go all day and that was pretty fantastic. I'm going to make this sometime this Summer for us. I'll even go ahead and say that I'll bet it works fine for a pulled beef application too.

Continuing the theme of condiments, I knew that I'd have to make a mustard. A few weeks ago, I saw a recipe for Kombucha Mustard on the Cultures for Health facebook page. I do not have a bloated amount of information on my facebook, and I love it as a resource for updates from just my favorite places. Soaking mustard seeds in kombucha? How easy, and I would never have thought of it. Of course, I had to wake up my kombucha first.

I had put it into hibernation during all of the vinegaring, and let a new mother grow out of some plain tea. I think since our weather has been so wonky, it seemed to take forever to get a suitable batch of tea finished, and I bottled up what I didn't use to soak the yellow mustard seeds yesterday.

I only soaked the seeds for a few hours, since they seemed to swell easily and were soft when I bit into them. I added a glug of cider vinegar, some salt and pepper, a couple teaspoons of turmeric and some honey. It was so thick, I added some water as it spun in the food pro, and also a couple of tablespoons of olive oil. I kind of like the thick consistency, I think I'll use it on salmon since I once did that with non-homemade mustard and it was pretty great. Since I have more than 3/4 lb. of thick yellow mustard, I will have plenty to share and experiment with, and since it seems well fermented (mustard is a natural preservative itself as well), I'll be in no hurry to use it up. I'm considering taking some for a trip in the Vitamix with additional kombucha tea to make a runnier version too.

So it looks like a good food gift is taking shape. I'll probably also make a little something sweet later today since that seems to be one of my trademarks, though lately I have been doing better at cutting back on the sugar. I think that my parents are some of the best people to give gifts to. They are difficult to shop for because they don't really need anything, so I almost always end up making something for them that is consumed, which in turn makes me insanely happy.

I do wonder if the gypsy caravan in the English countryside is still there, and if I showed up with this gift basket would a sandwich made on a bagel with some poached pheasant, a spread of mustard, a tangle of pickled radish would emerge as we sat around a campfire enjoying our food fit for kings. I never stop being thankful for my Pop, his steady and unwavering demeanor, his expertise on all manner of things. The way he was when I was young and the way he still is as I'm aging: a dreamer who never once put his dreams ahead of his family, a traveler who gave us all roots in the most important things. For all of the enhancements you have made to my life: I love you, Dad.

Sourdough Dutch Baby.

Continuing on the theme of crazy Springtime weather, I heated my kitchen this morning by turning on the oven. I'm not sure I've ever made a Dutch Baby before, or why it popped into my head this morning. It's possible that the dinner I had with friends last night (in which we declared the burritos to be as big as babies, and jokes circulating about babies, D. stating that he felt so full that there was a baby in his belly...) seeped into my subconscious and I had babies on the brain as soon as my feet hit the floor this morning.

Dutch babies are essentially egg heavy pancakes that are baked instead of griddled. I shouldn't say that I've never eaten them, since I have under the name of oven pancake. I did some summer camp cooking when I was younger, and a staple of the health-minded cook I worked under was the oven pancake. Huge amounts of eggs, unrefrigerated, lest she would cause you to lose your fingers she assured us, flour and enormous baking sheets, and slabs of gelatinous puffy pancake was baked short order for hungry middle-schoolers. About half of the kids didn't like it, but I always did, and I figured a cold morning was just as good a time as any to revisit this taste memory.

I also have this renewed love for my cast iron, and while the home-baked oven pancakes of my past were done in glass, I liked the idea of using a skillet. I also liked the idea of using up some sourdough starter. In short order, I found this amazingly detailed and sound recipe for them that met my desired criteria. By the time the oven was heated, the batter was blended and the dishes already done.

I used a number 5 Wagner skillet, which oddly is about 6 1/2 inches of cooking surface, and nearly 8 inches across the top. I had a thinnish pancake, that didn't puff tremendously... but I think I'll let the skillet get hotter before adding the batter next time. I also have a well-seasoned pan, so I only used about a tablespoon of butter. I had no sticking, the butter was buttery in the surface of the finished pancake.

Sourdough Dutch Babies (from InnerLodge. See the original recipe for pan size/cook time ratios.)

• 1 T. butter
• 2 eggs
  
• 2/3 c. sourdough starter (mine is 100% hydration)
• pinch of salt
• pinch of sugar (could use honey or maple syrup), optional
  
• 2 T. milk
  

Preheat oven to 425.

Blend eggs, starter, salt, milk and sugar if using. You can use a blender, or do it by hand.

When oven has come up to temperature, place butter in the skillet, and place the skillet in the oven to let the butter melt. (You can also let the brown the butter if you prefer.) When the butter is melted, and the pan hot, remove the pan from oven. Pour in the batter, return to oven, and bake for 10-15 minutes until the pancake is puffy and lightly browned.

Out of the oven, it will start to deflate immediately. Sprinkle it with powdered sugar when it's still hot, and when it cools a bit, it will form (and this is for you, Julia) a "pellicle" of sorts as it melts into any butter that pooled then baked on top...

I will confess that the Boy-O didn't like the Baby. He was excited, in his nearly-5-year-old rational way of thinking he said "WOW. That pancake will be the same size as that pan?" It's possible he thought it would just be a giant sourdough pancake, which he is accustomed to eating. When I cut it into quarters, dispersed the blueberries, drenched it in maple syrup it still didn't appeal to him - but to his credit, and my amazement, he did try it 4 times. What possibly did not appeal to him were the things that did appeal to me: the slightly sour, fermented sourdough flavor, the wiggly mouthfeel, the eggy oven pancake taste that I was after.

I brewed some coffee that I drank hot, I put on another shirt over the long sleeve one I was wearing. After a belly full of sweet breakfast, I have decided to pretend today is late September and not mid-June, and I look forward to a day of indoor organizing, cleaning, and maybe making these before heading across the street to a birthday party this afternoon. Meanwhile, the garden grows, I save my energies for the work I know is coming... the Dutch Baby tucked into my sourdough arsenal for quick, cool morning breakfasts in the future.

Re-Seasoning Cast Iron: Why Do I Do This Stuff on the Hottest Day of the Year?

It never fails that if you lack something to say, you can always discuss the weather. Garrulous as I am, even I have resorted to discussing this crazy Springtime we've been having with complete strangers as well as family members. It's just bewildering. Yesterday morning, I took my Boy-O to his last Monday of 4-year-old kindergarten in a long sleeve shirt since I was chilly, and by yesterday afternoon I felt as if I was relaxing in a sauna with no reprieve of a cool lake to jump into.

Before the spike in temperature yesterday, I decided that I should stop procrastinating the renovation of a newly acquired vintage Dutch oven. On my last visit to the Farm, my Mom and I performed our sporadic pilgrimage to our favorite "junk shop". Usually, I don't find anything. (Usually, I HOPE I don't find anything.) I didn't really need another 5 quart dutch oven, but when I saw this one in need of a bit of loving I stopped in my tracks. I actually didn't even buy it right away. I waited until we got back home (a half hour away), and then milled it around in my head over dinner and thought aloud "that is a really good deal for a nice old oven". My Mom said I should have it, and she actually drove back and purchased it for me, $38 (plus gas) well spent - especially after I have successfully restored it. It has exceptional design in my opinion, a boxiness that the newer models cannot boast. It also has a handle, should the desire to hang it over a campfire ever strike me.

I could tell that this oven was well used, and well cared for. The inside didn't have any build-up, though the outside told a different story. When I got it home, I washed it hard with soap and couldn't get around the "stickiness", blackish crud washing only a little away. Simple washing wasn't going to clean this new pot, I was going to have to do my first re-seasoning.

I always was a bit scared of re-seasoning. I supposed it's only because I have never had to do it. My old skillets are really in great shape, and I suspect I'll never have to put them through this process. I am actually glad I had the excuse to try it, since I was surprised at how well it worked. My reward for a bit of work is a gorgeous black pot, slick and ready for whatever I can throw at it.

I followed instructions at Byron's Dutch Oven Care. This required me to run a self-clean cycle on my electric oven, which did need it, and which I was also procrastinating. I figured a cool morning before Summer hit would be a good time to get both tasks accomplished simultaneously, but Crazy Spring heard me and decided to do a little self-cleaning outside as well. The downside is that my kitchen was hot as blazes, the upside was that years of build-up miraculously burned away from my pot.

The rust washed away; I used my favorite kind of grease (elbow) to steel wool the pot down to a dull grey color. I was meticulous, but not so much that it took me hours. I got the little hobnails underneath the lid and the curiously well-designed parts that hold the handle as best I could. Then, I opted to keep my kitchen cool and use my gas grill to bake on a couple layers of seasoning. My grill is pretty small, so I only did the base today. (I'm making some bread as a gift for the Boy-O's teacher for the last day of school tomorrow, so I figured I'd do the lid late tonight when I'm baking and the oven is on. I also had expired an entire canister of propane...)

I used coconut oil. I Googled, and read a few different sources that assured me it was ok. I do not detect any strange smell or feel. When using my iron skillets daily, I use coconut oil to grease them as well. I'm sticking with it, since I always have it on hand, and it appears to do the job well.

The handle catches on the well-designed tab, allowing you to pour without the whole pot tipping.

I know my electric oven will do just as great a job baking the seasoning on the lid, and then my handsome new pot will be fully ready for action. I now own 4 different Dutch ovens, and I can't say that I don't love each and every one of them. I rearranged my china cupboard this afternoon to appropriately show them all off, all four of them lined up like a detail of finely trained culinary soldiers.

You can see the difference in color from the baked-on seasoned base and the not-yet-baked-on seasoned top...

Do you have a cast iron skillet or Dutch oven that needs some attention? If it's not 96 degrees in your neck of the woods, give this a try. You will be happy you did!