Baking Frenzy

I had a simultaneous hankering for chocolate, fruit bars, and cinnamon buns. And had to do something about it. I first made these raspberry-almond bars. Then, when I was in the froufrou Metropolitan Market, I saw ...

McVitie's Digestive cookies! I can't get enough of these things. I have been on the lookout for cookies like the Bixits J and I had while visiting friends in Norway. McVitie's are darned close. Americans really don't do digestives like they do in Britain or Norway or Canada. I prefer to do my own chocolate layer so I can avoid all the nasty bits that have to be added to stabilize for transport and packaging. Plus, the price for chocolate cookies was $3 more than for plain! Lame.

My favorite time of day for a chocolate digestive is in the morning with my tea. I like to dip it to melt the chocolate a little. Yum. After downing this container, I went back to the store, planning to buy the whole shelf, and they were totally gone! In their place was a digestive with a milk chocolate side or a white chocolate side. Disgusting! Yet another thing to bemoan about this country and its culture! White "chocolate" isn't even chocolate, people! It's disgusting is what it is!

These are the cinnamon bun fix. As you can see, I went the healthy(ish) route. These actually have wheat germ in them! I decided against the egg wash with sugar on top and I regretted it. They do not look like the photo in the cookbook. *sigh* I just can't bring myself to spend an egg on a wash.

The frenzy ended with cookies for the kiddo. Sam and I made the dough and cut out the cookies together. He loves to "scoop," and whenever I pull out the flour he goes for his stool so that he can stand at the counter with me and scoop whatever needs scooping. It's a little nerve-racking and you have to get out many more bowls just in case the kid does something like, oh, shove his hands in the flour and start throwing it back in the container ... or pour the carefully measured flour from such a distance as to get roughly half in the bowl and half on the counter and floor. The mess is fine because Sam "helps" to clean by sweeping all the detritus onto the floor, which then becomes a slippery biohazard. But scooping and measuring have got to be great skills. And then there is that time with Mommy in the kitchen, participation in meal (or sweets) prep, and all that other great stuff.

In the end, we had quite the selection of baked goods in the house. Since I am pregnant, I am totally fine with that because no one can really tell that I am putting on anything other than baby weight. It does look like I am on track to gain more this time around, however. Insert sad face emoticon. AND I was recently asked by the tiny Thai delivery guy if I was having twins. Sad emoticon times two.

Friendship Bread

My neighbor came over with a Friendship Bread starter. I was ridiculously excited about it. She also brought over a sample of the baked version - so sweet and cinnamony. Yum.

Day 1: Do nothing. Days 2-5: Stir with a wooden spoon.

Day 6: Add 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, and 1 cup milk. Stir.

Day 10: Add a bunch more stuff, take some out to pass on to three friends, then add more stuff to make two loaves.

There are a bunch of versions of this bread. I saved one of the three starters that I was supposed to pass on so that I can make more. I think I will try something with chocolate next time. I found a few websites that talk about the bread as "Amish." I don't know if it really is, and don't see why it would be. If anything, it should be Quaker, since they are the Society of Friends, and all. You can order a huge starter kit for over $100. But I'm sure you can just make your own starter, right?

I was quite worried that my loaves wouldn't turn out. I did a couple things wrong. First, I seemed to have quite a lot left over once I removed the three portions to pass on. The recipe says you'll have a little over a cup, and I clearly had more than "a little more." Next, I finally read the package of instant pudding that I was to add, and it was a little over 1 oz. shy of what I was supposed to have. Oops. And I forgot to get pecans at the store. I'm sure nuts are optional, as they always seem to be in baked goods, but I thought a few pecans sprinkled on would go so nicely. It did taste like a coffee cake.

But my fears were unfounded. I know, shocker. I am quite the baker. Can I think of anything I have ruined? Oh, wait, yes I can. So we will chock this delicious bread up to sheer luck. Josh took one loaf to work and it was gone within an hour. Verdict: Delicious.

Baking

I decided to make Irish soda bread for St. Patrick's Day. I did not attempt anything else, like corned beef, to go with it. We were going to have a simple beef stew, but ended up having a fish curry instead. We had bread for an appetizer. Sam loved it! I thought the caraway seed would be a turn off, but nope. That kid loves his carbs.

The dough was sticky and shaggy, as you can see, so I wasn't sure it would come out good. You don't have to knead until smooth because you aren't activating any yeast.

This recipe is supposedly authentic. I got it from Epicurious, which gave several variations and stated that this one was The One. I've been thinking about authenticity recently. I'm wondering if it's an American preoccupation. You see it all the time in write-ups of ethnic cuisine: the most authentic Thai; the best and most authentic dim sum, etc. I thought perhaps it's like being White, which is also in the forefront of my mind right now because I just completed our census documents. White, as an ethnic identity, doesn't exist outside of the US, really. It's unique to this place because we are an immigrant and plural society. So, authentic is kind of like that, isn't it? If we're not in the old country, the recipe isn't really Real ... but it can be Authentic. Or would it be the other way around?

Authentic means: having the origin supported by unquestionable evidence. Culinarily this speaks to method and ingredients, which can be replicated in many cases. Not all, surely. But we know those people, don't we? On the quest for the Authentic this and the Real that, decrying the pretenders. And then. There's that thing that I have heard said by gourmands, foreign gourmands, perhaps Jacques Pepin even said it; I'm pretty sure I heard Eric Ripert say it too. (If they ever read this blog I will beg their forgiveness if I attributed this to them erroneously... after I die of shock and joy.) That is, that Americans are so open to New and so unbound by dogma and tradition, that the utmost food experience is found simply in the flavor. Is this the way it's supposed to be done? Is it authentic? Who cares? is what Americans say. Is it good? Is it the best you have ever tasted? THAT alone is what matters here. Where does authentic fit into that?

I recall in Julia Child's biography she spoke of one of her partners in the creation of the tome that was her first cookbook. This partner would always complain of Juila's recipes as inauthentic - But that's not French! That's not how we do it! She was adamant and Julia was adamant that in her testing this and that way would work for and was accessible to American cooks, and that's what it was about, wasn't it? Realistic and available methodology and ingredients. Does that negate authenticity?

So, this bread recipe is good. Simple and good.

Recipe: 3.5 cups AP flour (you can use wheat, white, or a combination), 3/4 tsp. salt, 2 T caraway seeds (optional), 1 tsp. baking soda, 1.5 cups buttermilk. Mix all dry ingredients. Pour in just enough buttermilk for the dough to stir together into a shaggy, lumpy mass - this was just shy of the 1.5 cup mark for me. Turn it onto a floured surface and knead it until it comes together, 1-2 minutes. Shape it into a 6x2in. round and place on a floured baking sheet. Cut a 1-in. deep X in the top and bake at 425 for 30-35 minutes, until golden and sounds hollow when tapped.

Caraway was not easy to find. I had to go to the dreaded Whole Foods. God, I detest them. What is up with the attitude? I will except the butchers and the cheesemongers from my blanket statement that everyone who works at WF is a supercilious ass. I expect some friendly service with those astronomical prices, thanks.

This is not the Irish soda bread, obviously. I thought I would include a photo of the spiced banana loaf that I made with my black bananas. Sam likes it very much. Again, I thought the spice combo of allspice, nutmeg, and cloves would throw him off. Nope. He had an enormous slice and wanted more.

So delicious with afternoon tea.

Waffles, etc.

When we returned, there were several items on my to-make list. First, I made waffles ... for Sam. He likes to eat them for breakfast, sometimes with peanut butter. I make a batch of four, full-sized Belgian waffles and freeze them for use throughout the week. I do, of course, have some pre-made waffles on hand just in case I don't get to the waffle iron during the week.

Speaking of waffle irons, do not get a Villaware. It was reviewed in the Test Kitchen as the best waffle iron! Bosh! 1) The crevices are classic Belgian size, but I like mine smaller. 2) This is the real sin: the writing on the iron all rubbed off. So, where you should see the darkness dial, 1-7, and the "ready" under the green light, gone! I was using a paper towel to wipe off excess nonstick spray, and bam! no more darkness dial numbers. Lame.

I may have introduced Sam to syrup this go 'round. He was most pleased.

I discovered the best waffle recipe in my Bittman cookbook. I like it because it uses normal milk, not buttermilk. I always have milk, whereas buttermilk is a special item that must be added to the list.

Waffles: 4T butter (1/2 stick), 2c. flour, 3tsp. baking powder, 1/2tsp. salt, 1.5 c. milk (whole), 2 eggs, 2T sugar, 1 tsp. vanilla (optional).

1. Melt butter and set aside to cool.

2. Mix the flour, salt, baking powder in a large bowl. I like to sift the ingredients together in order to avoid lumps when the wet ingredients are added.

3. Mix eggs, sugar, and milk together in a medium bowl. Pour in the cooled butter and mix. Add the vanilla, if using.

4. Add the wet ingredients to the dry. I like to use a whisk because it quickly incorporates the ingredients without over beating. This works best if you sifted the dry ingredients. You only need to whisk a few times to get everything mixed.

5. Make your waffles! I find that letting the waffle batter sit while the iron heats up is just perfect for the baking soda to start its magic. Your batter should look a little puffier than it did right after you mixed everything.

I've had these enormous bags of oatmeal and raisins for months. I got them at Costco thinking that they go well together, and everyone should eat oatmeal because it's good for the cholesterol. Here's the thing: I hate oatmeal. I mean I really can't stand the flavor. So I find myself adding all this junk to it: raisins, sugar, cinnamon, pumpkin butter, heavy cream ... anything to mask the flavor. And it still doesn't completely work. So I have given up for the time being, and made cookies instead! These are oatmeal-raisin-chocolate chip. Does the oatmeal cancel out the two sticks of butter in the cholesterol equation?

Speaking of fat, I also made mousse. Actually, this is a pretty healthy mousse because it is made from tofu. Tofu mousse: 10oz. silken tofu, 16oz. (or to taste) melted chocolate chips - whir in the blender. I have made it many times before and this one was rather thick. I think my tofu might have only been 8oz. To cut the thickness in both consistency and flavor, I added some ice cream! Ben and Jerry's Americone Dream. A fabulous addition that, I am sure, negated any health benefits from the tofu.

This was my week of zero-sum baking.

Rustic Loaf

My family plans things - meals, outings, things. So, when I was to visit my family in San Bruno for an indeterminate amount of time, a schedule arose. My mother and sister were the main contributors, with my input, naturally. There was an excel spreadsheet involved. One activity was "Bread with Irene." Irene is my mother's friend from the blood bank (nurses), who is now more of a knitting, beading, cruising, etc., retirement buddy. And it seems that Irene has a little yeast phobia.

Was I chosen to work with Irene because I am a bread-making maven? Not exactly. I think what happened was that Mom described how good my white bread loaves were. I made them when she was visiting and we gobbled them up with butter, then cheese, then plain, then jam. And, oh, the crust on these things was divine. So, the description probably went something like that, and I was recruited as Irene's instructor. Well, bread buddy, really.

For my first couple of experiences with yeast, I found the little buggers mysterious. I just put these wee gray things into this liquid with a little sugar and they come to life? Like zombies? Irene had many good points about bread instructions: What does "warm" mean? How do I know if they are "foamy" enough? And so on. There are a lot of not-so-technical, technical terms in bread-making and you have to sort of dive in to figure them all out. For example, in this recipe, it says to stir the dough, with a plastic spatula, until it is "shaggy." I knew what that would look like because, again, I watch too much food TV; but Irene was stumped. Heaven forbid you have never seen food TV and you're working from something like Fannie Farmer who has how many pictures? Three? Any of bread making?

In bread-making, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that each loaf is unique. Each loaf is an adventure. I mean, you should even give some thought to the weather when you're making bread. There is a lot to worry about. My mother opened the garage door while our loaves were rising, letting in a gust of cold air, so Irene and I decided that we would blame any failures on that.

The rustic loaf is different from any bread I have done before. First, the yeast doesn't hang out in sugary water for 15 minutes to rise. Nope. You mix it in with the flour, et. al., then add warmed milk and stir until shaggy. Here is where we let our yeast zombies activate. So, maybe not the best loaf to do with someone afraid of yeast. ... Or, maybe it's the best loaf to do with someone wary of yeast! Once the zombies are clearly out and looking for flesh to consume, we knead; the we do the first rise in a bowl. Then we shape for the second rise on cutting boards. Do you like the green plastic wrap. I think it's fun.

The rustic loaf is, well, rustic in that it is shaped but not baked in a loaf pan. And it did come out good - chewy, with a thin leathery-but-in-a-good-way crust. But there were some major glitches. It was one of those events that you can see in perfect relief, after the fact. The signs are there; the writing was on the wall, but you hoped against hope that things weren't the way they seemed. I ignored my instincts.

It went something like this:

Omen #1. The pans. The recipe calls for a pizza stone because it maintains heat well and bread bakes nicely on it. I would have settled for a 1/4 sheet pan, but there were none of those. Actually, my parents' ovens don't even fit 1/4 sheet pans. So I was using thin, round, flimsy pans.

Omen #2. Irene says that she saw my loaf was brown and spotty ... during the first 3 minutes of baking. That should be the description after about 15 minutes of baking. This should have alarmed me. And I thought of checking it, I did, but figured no way it was browning that fast. Because it wasn't supposed to.

Omen #3. The bread smell 4 minutes into the baking process - too early. This should have told me that the bread was baking to fast and to turn down the ovens.

Omen #4. The burning smell 6 minutes into the baking process. Way, way too early. This time, I checked. Irene's loaf was okay in the top oven, but my loaf was singed. I immediately starting hooting and hollering about how awful my parents' ovens are. I don't think I cursed, but I would have been justified if I did. Irene remained calm, and somehow order was restored.

There is that singe. Everyone liked the bread, even Sam. So, triumph amid travails.