Dutchie Crust: Daring Baker Challenge March 2012

Sara and Erica of Baking JDs were our March 2012 Daring Baker hostesses! Sara & Erica challenged us to make Dutch Crunch bread, a delicious sandwich bread with a unique, crunchy topping. Sara and Erica also challenged us to create a one of a kind sandwich with our bread!

Our San Franciscan hosts call this crispy, crunchy bread Dutch Crunch, but in Milwaukee we call it Dutchie Crust. I actually never had any rolls of this type until I met my Husband and his family, and was introduced to Canfora Bakery just down the road from our house. Canfora is a "European" style bakery, and I do confess that I feel no guilt in the occasional purchase of hard rolls from them. They are fluffy and soft inside with a thin, brittle crackling crust - and I couldn't help but want to compare this month's challenge to them.

I followed the provided recipes for both the rolls and the topping, although I'd like to experiment more with this topping, perhaps even on a sourdough roll. It is made primarily of rice flour, which I ground from white rice in my VitaMix. I haven't ever purchased any rice flour, but homemade rice flour never quite loses the trace of grit you would expect from a hard, brown or white rice kernel.

The rice flour is mixed with yeast and water, a little sugar, oil and salt and left to sit for about 15 minutes before "painting" the tops of the risen rolls. It is thick, and I used my hands to almost mold it to the tops of rising bread. The bread dough recipe itself was a pretty standard roll recipe, and the heavy rice topping seemed to make them flatten out a bit, even though they were rising fine. Not a bad thing, and they would probably make a good torta or sandwich roll (I dug through my frozen leftovers and found some pork and cabbage from December that I heated and thickened with a little flour. It wasn't picturesque, but it was tasty.)

The topping made the rolls a bit gritty to eat, though the interiors were soft and pleasant enough. (My Husband picked out the filling and ate it alongside his meal...) I found them ok, in part because I was comparing them to the Dutchie crust rolls from down the street, and in part because the topping literally left a bad taste in my mouth.

I consulted Fany Gerson's recipe for conchas, and noticed that the topping uses flour and baking powder - the same type of topping I believe my Rhode Islander father-in-law said they used on top of the Dutch Crust rolls he made when he worked in a Portuguese bakery when he was young. Gerson's recipe has quite a lot of sugar, presumably because conchas are really a pan dulce, or sweet bread. But I may be on to something if I begin to experiment with it.

I'll be sure to write an update when I try again to master the mysteries of the Dutchie Crust roll, Meanwhile, be sure to check out the Daring Baker blogroll to find other variations on the challenge this month.

Mango Jam with Cayenne and Black Pepper

It may be safe to say I'll never make another jam without adding some chile peppers to it. I'm addicted. I'll even go as far as to say that I like jam better when it has a hint of the other side of sweet, an afterthought of calm warmth in my mouth. This morning when I woke up earlier than normal (after going to bed much later than usual), instead of feeling groggy and somewhat fuzzy, I felt invigorated and inspired.

My hands are on the mend, and after cleaning up a few dishes from a small dinner party last night I turned to the mangoes that were meant both for mango lassis and frozen storage for future smoothies. All of a sudden, I found a pot of jam on the stove and an excellent breakfast in my belly comprised of mango pits gnawed as clean as cobs of corn.

Mangoes appear to be perfectly in season, and I say this purely based on flavor and not any previous knowledge of when exactly a mango tree is actually prolifically in season. Mangoes are also dirt cheap right now, and armed with the previously culled and stored knowledge that they are a fruit very sensitive to pesticides (and thus rarely sprayed), I usually enjoy the non-organic variety of this fruit. I commonly see the larger, human-heart sized blushing green variety I presume come from Hawaii, but when I find good prices on the smoother fleshed, slender yellow "champagne" mangoes, I get really excited and sometimes go overboard on purchasing them. They taste like exotic peaches, impossibly smooth and slippery in your mouth, and completely without the fibrous tendencies of the more common mangoes. They are mango sophisticates.

I had a couple of varieties of mango already in my possession, and the jam bug hit as I began cubing them up for the freezer. Last week, I moved a jar of cayenne peppers I had dried from my garden last Summer, and I figured mango jam would do well to include that deep, red friend. I also used a combination of orange and lime juices, predominately because I didn't have more than a single lime. I made the most of it by zesting it and including that zest towards the end of the jamming stage. Multiple spoonfuls of boiling jam pot goodness, and this image of Tigress's pepper spiked preserved kumquats, had me also reaching for the pepper grinder...

Mango Jam with Cayenne and Black Pepper (inspired by Linda Ziedrich, Hungry Tigress)

my yield was 3 half pints and 1 3/4 pint jars

• 2 lbs. mango, peeled and diced
• 2 cayenne peppers, stemmed and roughly chopped (I left the seeds in)
  
• 1 lime, zested and juiced
• enough juiced orange to equal 1/2 c. when added to the lime juice
• coarsely ground black pepper to taste,
  
• 3 c. (574 g.) sugar (I used raw sugar)

Combine the mangoes, cayenne peppers, lime and orange juices in a preserving pot and cook gently over medium low heat until the mangoes soften and are tender. After they have softened, mash lightly with a masher then add sugar. (Taste, and if it isn't hot enough for you, add more cayenne pepper or powdered cayenne pepper.)

Increase the heat to medium, stirring frequently to make sure all the sugar has dissolved. When sugar has dissolved, raise the heat to medium high, add several grinds of coarse black (tellicherry) pepper and boil until a spoonful of jam mounds up when placed on a chilled dish. Stir in the lime zest.

Ladle jam into sterilized and still hot jam jars (use pint, 3/4 pint, or half pint jars), and process for 10 minutes in a boiling water bath.

mixed app iPhone pic homage to Tigress...

This chile spiked mango jam has a nice soft heat balanced with peachy sweetness. I can't wait to eat it on grilled cheeses and with cheese (which is my new favorite way to eat jam, I think). It may make a nice seltzer drink, or when thinned, a terrific sauce for vanilla ice cream or a topping for some rich, creamy cheesecake. Half the fun of making a new jam is deciding what to lop spoons of it onto!

My idea of jam making has changed so much in the past few years. I used to think that I could only make jam with fruit that I'd grown myself and in huge batches - probably reminiscent of the way my family preserved jam when I was growing up. Thanks to so many small-batch preservers, I've made stellar little 4 jar experiments with supermarket fruit that have slyly surprised me with their deliciousness. I've grown bold, adding herbs and spices to things I'd never considered, thanks to so many of my favorite preservers - maybe I will make it my 2012 mission to add chiles to everything I pop into jars.

Ain't it Funny how Time Slips Away...

I was a little too young for thirtysomething, but think of that term, pop culture, and my current age all the time recently. At some point, I became more the "I'm in my thirties" type, rather than a specific age, and I'm not sure when that happened or came to be. I'm also unsure how by magic I turned from child to parent, and how and when exactly my parents went from being my parents to also being my friends. I wonder all the time if the reason blogs are so prolific and interesting is because people my age, people who know what Snorks are, are hungry for the past, and for the first time they are fully aware of how lightening fast a lifetime will go.

A picture of my Gram hangs in my kitchen. It's a colorized photo of her smiling, sometime in the early 40's when she was a young girl. I must stare at that picture every single day for several minutes, wondering how that young girl became a strong, single parent and wondering how she worked so much and still had the time to make daily loaves of bread for her 5 children.

As often as my hands make their rhythm in the kitchen I think of hers and what they produced, and I think of her even more lately because of my skin ailments. I have inherited a lot of traits from her, and my sensitivity to my environment is just one of them. As I've nursed my swollen, horrible hands this week, I've thought of how continually thankful she was for everything, and how no one ever heard her complain about physical pain. I unfortunately did not inherit that quiet demeanor, but in a way, I feel like the way she handled difficulties in life inspires me to want to be strong in the same way. To be gracious and appreciative of every moment rather than sour and downhearted when I can't do what I'd like due to physical constraints.

Working entirely encased in foodservice gloves, I kneaded my way around a loaf of sprouted wheat bread yesterday. I haven't really been doing too much in my kitchen, and it makes me feel lost and unneeded. I read through the rest of Peter Reinhart's Whole Grain Breads book, and felt only enough gonzo to sprout some hard wheat berries to make a 100% sprouted bread. I knew when I only let the wheat berries soak for about 16 hours and not properly "sprout" that I may be setting myself up for a dense loaf, but I was impatient both for sprouted bread and the feeling of empowerment that making bread gives me. And, Peter did say that soaking the grain overnight, draining and then waiting just a few hours should afford the grain enough time to sport tiny tails - and if you ask me it does look like my grain had a hint of tails.

This is a straight-dough method, commercial yeast bread with no added flour. The dough is made by grinding newly sprouted grain into a paste - something that caused my first ever VitaMix overheating. This is some heavy duty dough! I don't have a meat grinder, but I can borrow one from my Mom, and I think I will when I decide to try this bread again. Not that I was entirely unhappy with my dense result.

My childhood was such an amazing time, and I'm lucky to have so many food memories that I wouldn't know where to start. When this loaf came out of the oven at 1 1/2 lbs. of dense, near-brick stature, I immediately thought of my Eastern-European roots and the near black Baltic Rye bread that my great aunt used to migrate up from Chicago on summertime visits. That bread seemed to keep forever, and I remember eating it sliced wafer thin at my Great-Grandma's, my Gram's and at our own house. Stored in plastic and in the refrigerator, this was a tangy, rich bread that you would eat with cheese or finely sliced, cured meat and that is exactly what texture my bread took on. It may be that I didn't let it rise enough, didn't provide the dough a thorough kneading, was too quick to grind my sprouted wheat, or didn't grind it smooth enough... but all of the mistakes coupled with painful hands made a loaf of bread I'll enjoy every slice of myself.

it's toothsome.

I'm keeping it in plastic and in the fridge, and I'm able to slice it at a mere 1/4 inch or thinner with a chef's knife, and it makes me long for Summer Sausage which seemed to be a rare treat we gobbled up when I was a kid. At the time, I thought we could only get Summer Sausage in the Summer, and maybe we only did when big city relatives were visiting and mosquitoes were biting, and we all spent so much time together that it makes for stellar memories as a certain someone is approaching the other side of 35.

When I was growing up, old people seemed different than the older people I know now - I'll bet they will seem really different than the people I'll likely know when I'm officially old myself. Maybe nobody I know, including me, will retire Cocoon-style to Florida. Maybe the senior housing of the 2050's will be rocking out to Pearl Jam and Pantera and nostalgia t.v. networks will be long running marathons of the A-Team, Airwolf, and Simon and Simon. I guess time will tell, and hopefully I'll be healthy enough to avoid both assisted living and the pitfalls of too much television...

Meanwhile, I'm storing up new memories and trying desperately to be happy with these flawed hands that prevent me from working in the dirt, kneading the dough as I'd like. I'm trying to be comfortable with my increasing age for the first time in my life, trying to embrace the multiplying numbers of long silver hair that seem so noticeable to me but strangely to no one else. And if I feel like singing out loud in the middle of the day, I have made the time and space in my kitchen comfortable enough to do so. I will love the things I love now as much no matter my age and ability, and I pray that I'll just be able to keep the time from running through my (hopefully healing) fingers too quickly.

Dinner's in the Fridge.

I don't know how to eat lately. Sudden and early Spring with near-Summer temperatures have me thoroughly confused. I feel as if I've channeled my inner European and have taken to eating larger than normal lunches; when the dinner hour approaches, I find I'm not really hungry at all. There is also this thing called March Madness that prohibits me from really scheduling anything that takes my Husband longer than about a half-time to eat, if he eats at all. But it's all fine with me. I like eating little meals, and I also like cooking a little something out of nothing - a good challenge to use up odds and ends in the refrigerator.

Lately I've also been concerned that something I eat is making my skin issues worse. I occasionally have eczema on my hands, usually a condition that only appears under stress and with too much water or overuse. During this particularly awful episode, I am re-examining every morsel that enters my mouth. That is no fun, but on the bright side I have a whole host of new ideas about using food as medicine, and renewed empathy for those who suffer with food allergies.

My worst fear is that wheat or gluten is the culprit of my discomfort. For the past few days I have been diligently avoiding my bread, who sits neglected on the counter, a prisoner under a glass dome. I don't think that gluten is my issue fortunately and, maybe a bit prematurely, have started a new loaf of whole wheat sourdough this morning. The combination of using up the contents of my fridge and my subtle, perhaps unfounded, fear of gluten did lead to this little casserole that I baked efficiently in my toaster oven last night:

When I don't have to worry about my Husband for supper, I feel like I have free reign to make whatever my heart desires. While I classify him as a picky eater, he does surprise me with his likes and dislikes. On the likes list: kale, intestines, and raw fish of all types. On the dislike list: fennel, carrots, and squash of all types. These are abbreviated lists of course, but as a person without any food aversions (except raw cuddlefish, I ate it badly prepared once and had to spit it out), I find it sometimes frustrating to say the least.

Take polenta for example. I really love it, but texturally it's something my Husband can do without. Generally I avoid making it altogether since I don't like eating leftovers for a week. Rummaging through my cupboards yesterday, and noting how they could do with some Spring cleaning, I couldn't get my mind off a quart jar of polenta stashed in the back of my pantry. When I saw a half gallon jar in the fridge filled with more bean pot liquid than beans, and a few tablespoons of sorry looking mango salsa from earlier in the week, I figured dinner was served.

I cooked a 1/4 c. of polenta in the traditional way and spread it into a buttered tiny casserole dish that usually holds my measuring spoons, corn on the cob picks, other kitchen odds and ends in the silverware drawer. I tossed the leftover pintos with cumin, Mexican oregano and chile powder (despite pangs of guilt I wasn't going all out and using whole chiles as I was reminded in this lovely article - but I was going for ease...), and spooned them over the polenta. I mixed my sorry looking mango salsa, complete with edible but totally browned avocados, with a few spoonfuls of canned tomato salsa, and then grated the last of a block of cheddar cheese which I figured would be the best bet for using up odds and ends. I meant to add candied jalapenos to the layer of polenta, and I meant to defrost a little frozen corn, but for about 5 minutes of actual work, this simple one-dish supper was pretty good!

For lunch today I'm planning to have another slice, rewarmed and topped with a poached egg, and maybe crowned with some super hot sauce that I keep forgetting I should use up (oh, and a scoop of cilantro raisin chutney). Then, I'll maybe clean out the fridge some more and see what other little meals may be birthed out of the leftover chaos that often exists there.

But I'll not give up my bread just yet, especially when working more with whole wheat flour, and a higher hydration dough... I haven't been this excited about wild yeast for quite a while. I've also been reading Peter Reinhart's Whole Grain Breads book, which also makes me itchy (pun possibly intended) for new experiments. Real bread has become such a staple part of my life that living without it seems hollow. I don't realize how much I depend on it, long for it, transform it to my needs. I romanticize it to be sure, but it is beguiling and I know when the weather changes and I'm mentally calculating how that affects my rising times that I indeed have the soul of a baker. Any leftover, refrigerated project tastes better on a slice of bread!


Update:

(I think I liked it even better topped with an egg...)

Frozen Tofu and Fresh Spring Rolls.

Seeing as I am neither vegan or vegetarian, I feel my affinity for tofu is wholeheartedly genuine. I do feel my kitchen enthusiasm may be slipping a little however, since I recently read a book on making tofu, and I didn't once attempt to make it. Maybe it's because I'm really trying harder to spend more time outdoors, but I think it was also in part because we have a pretty amazing local company who make it fresh so I don't have to try. It's as tasty as it is affordable, and actually I don't like to overdo my soy consumption. I treat tofu like I do meat, eating it only occasionally and savoring it when I do.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a Thai cooking class taught by my friend Nell. Admittedly, I have never cooked much in the Far Eastern realm. I tend to stick closer to my Eastern European and Mexican roots maybe, but I love being so inspired not only to learn more about the culture of the Far East, but also to attempt some foodstuffs that may or may not be an educated, Americanized version of their spicy fresh flavors.

One thing we made at the class were fresh spring rolls - such an easy task that I couldn't believe I'd never done it actually. Sitting around a communal table that evening, the vegetarian girls next to me asked if I'd ever frozen a block of tofu before baking it, and I had to admit I'd never done that either. I suspected it would be an efficient way of draining out the excess moisture prior to searing it up in the oven, and I couldn't really wait too long to try it out. I promptly bought a block of tofu, brought it home, and popped it into the freezer.

Simple Soyman. Frozen, defrosted.

A week in a frozen state, I took the tofu out yesterday to defrost, curious if the texture would taste as spongy as it looked. It did, but really in a great way. I should maybe back up and preface this by saying that I'm not a person easily put off by the texture of foods. I don't know of much that I've tried and disliked due to texture - except for the odd piece of raw fish that has been cut wrong rendering it chewy and nearly (in my eyes) inedible.

When the block was fully defrosted, I sliced it into 4 fat slices and gently pressed out at much extra water as I could. Then, I let it sop up a marinade - which it did in no time - exactly like a sponge should. After cooked, it was still vaguely sponge-like, but flavorful, and keeping it's nice, toothsome texture even overnight. It's definitely a trick I'll use again.

The heat of the oven did give it an accomplished sear. I based the tofu marinade, and the whole recipe really, on a favorite Moosewood recipe that uses both baked tofu and pineapple with other Thai flavors like cilantro and peanut. I was nearly out of shoyu though, and the marinade was a bit skimpy, but fortunately the spongy tofu absorbed every last drop of it.

As I was throwing the cubes of tofu in a bowl with some fresh pineapple (which has been a staple around here lately since they've been so tasty), I still had no idea that this tofu would become a spring roll. After a late lunch today and a day filled with plenty of sunshine and warming temps outside, I guess Spring was on my mind. One little spring roll was plenty for a light supper, but I do look forward to rolling a few more for lunch tomorrow.

The idea of the original Moosewood recipe is to top a green salad with the marinated and baked tofu, fresh (or canned) pineapple, a vinegary dressing, and plenty of peanuts, carrots and bean sprouts. Instead, I tossed the tofu with pineapple, cilantro, shredded carrots and a touch of oil. Then I made Nell's peanut sauce, improvising with what I had in the pantry. I daresay that I'd serve these to my chef friend, and be quite proud of them!

You can certainly use fresh tofu that has been weighted and pressed for a half hour to remove moisture instead of freezing it first. The texture will be different, maybe preferable to you.

Spicy Tofu Pineapple Spring Rolls with Peanut Sauce (inspired by Moosewood Daily Special and Nell Benton)

For the tofu: freeze one block (about a pound) of fresh (not silken) tofu. A day or many days later, defrost (under refrigeration) and cut into 4 equal slices. Press out any extra liquid and set aside to make the marinade.

Tofu Marinade (eyeball everything into the pan you will use to bake in)

• 1/4 c. shoyu (or similar soy sauce) (I used about 2 T. with good result)
  
• 2 T. rice vinegar
• 1 T. veg oil
• 1 T. brown sugar
  
• 2 t. fresh grated ginger
• a chile pepper, minced (or dried red chile flakes to taste and home canned candied jalapeno juice like I used)

Preheat oven to 400. Turn the tofu over a few times to fully coat it in the marinade, it will soak it all up if you have first frozen the block. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the first side is seared and toasty looking, then flip and bake about 20 minutes longer until the other side matches. (When the tofu cooks, mix up the peanut sauce - see below.) Cool slightly, cut into cubes, and place in a bowl.

To the tofu bowl, add about as much pineapple as you have tofu, or less if you like things less sweet. Add one or two shredded carrots, some cilantro to taste and maybe some more chile flake. Use right away or refrigerate for later use.

To make the spring rolls, soak spring roll wrappers one at a time (I got this kind, locally, at a much better price...) in cool water for a minute to soften. Put it on a plate, add the filling, sprinkle with roasted peanuts, and fold and roll up kind of as you would a burrito. Serve immediately with peanut sauce.

Peanut Sauce (again, this is eyeballed)

• 1/2 c. coconut milk (I used some of the thickened coconut "butter" that sometimes forms when you make homemade, it made it nicely creamy)
  
• 2 T. peanut butter
  
• 1 T. red curry spice (I used dried, Nell recommends Masaman curry paste)
• 1 T. fish sauce
• lime juice
• 1 T. sugar (I just got some jaggery, and used it)

Heat all ingredients gently in a small saucepan, taking care not to bring to a boil. Taste to adjust seasonings.

I think with all of this talk about tofu, I may just end up trying to make my own yet. It doesn't really seem all that complicated, and I just need some soybeans after all... though I can't promise I would put any of my homemade stuff into the freezer.

My final thoughts on frozen tofu? Use it as a preservation method if you have a block that is close to expiring or if you are going to cook or bake it into something that has a lot of flavor. But if you are a texturally challenged eater, you may not be too enthused. As for these spring rolls, I love them, and will without a doubt be making them again.

Experimental Stuffed Peppers

As promised, I was able to transform my Daring Baker fail into quite a respectable dinner. On a nicely solitary Saturday evening, I ate my pepper alongside the must make braised scallions from Molly Stevens via Food52 (read more on that here), and was quite proud of my restraint from ditching that loaf of failed sprouted wheat, millet and pumpkin quick bread, since it became one of the best stuffed pepper fillings I've ever had.

I browned a pound of Italian sausage from local mom-n-pop Cudahy sausage shop Adamcyk's, and when the sausage drained on towels I fried some leek and onion in the residual fat. When everything cooled, I mixed it carefully by hand using about half of the loaf of failed quick bread and aiming for a chunky, happy homogenization. Then, I hollowed out and filled a single red pepper and propped it up for steaming using a thrift store brioche mold. The single pepper fit nicely in my oatmeal pot, and the shear ease and lack of kitchen mess reminded me yet again why it is such a pleasure to cook only for one once in a while...

Meanwhile, I made economical use of the oven heat by making gorgeous braised green onions along with a few perfect specimens of baby Shanghai greens I found at the Asian market last week. I had no tarragon growing yet in the yard, which actually is currently full of rapidly melting snow, so I braised my greens with a stalk of lemongrass. To the horror of some, a couple of dried bay leaves that I recently replenished from the Spice House also made a way into the braise. (As a side note, I read some geeky talk about bay leaves and trees last Fall, and never quite got over the idea that I wanted fresh bay. My new purchase of dried leaves smelled so good when I was perusing my spice cupboard for suitable accompaniments I couldn't help myself from throwing them in the pan. I'm not sure if I added or subtracted from the flavor, but I will say that braised green onions and baby Shanghais are probably one of my new favorite things.)

baby Shanghai greens.

I love steaming stuffed peppers rather than cooking them in a liquid or sauce so that they become all soft and flabby. Not only do they retain their shape, but the filling steams along with them, keeping it moist and not falling apart. About 30 minutes was all it took for it to cook through, and then I topped it with just a bit of shredded pecorino cheese. I had some strained yogurt in the fridge, and it was also a great idea to use some of that as a sour and tangy garnish.

My gustatory delight, shared via email with a friend (or maybe two), was so winning I surprised myself. The pumpkin in the bread really came through, and the traces of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg were heightened by the pork flavor. It would have been too lean without the sausage, and this is coming from someone who probably eats far less than that of my peers here in Wisconsin, where the regional sausage allotment has to be quite high compared to the national average. My stuffed experiments were a perfect balance of sweet and savory, and a great way to spend a Saturday evening alone. In fact, I'd make another loaf of failed sprouted wheat, millet and pumpkin bread in the future just to make these!