Multigrain Loaf

You've got to see this bread. It's awesome. This loaf is my version of the "Struan" loaf from the place down the street. Of course, for artisinal bread, you pay an arm and a leg, and I am getting addicted to this bread. So I made my own, darn it.

Making my own also means that I do not have to go into the hated establishment called Grateful Bread. To sum up their sins: (1) Teenagers who give a crap about service work there. Once you are over the age of 30, you care about service and attitude. As in, Please stop talking to your friend/coworker so I can order my coffee and bagel. (2) The place set itself up to showcase all of the social ineptitude of the Seattle masses. As in, Yes, this is the line. Yes, we use words like 'Excuse me.' Yes, you actually can share a table with someone if a person is alone at a four-top. No, you may not sit in the kids' play area without a kid, especially when a woman with a kid comes over to play! No one was taught how to use their words or common sense in this town. (3) You have to bus your own table when there are way too many teenagers on staff? Just say no to bussing your own table. (4) Puff pastry is supposed to puff. You do bread well. Stop there.

I'm done now.

Back to my loaf! Among the standard AP flour and whole wheat flour, it also has semolina flour, brown rice flour, honey, milk, eggs, and seeds on top! And I did that awesome twisty thing as well as brushed on olive oil. The crust was the best ever.

Baguettes and Knives

No, this is not another version of the classic economics exercise with guns and butter; this is my life.

Forgive me for being so completely out of the blogging loop. I haven't been able to keep up with the blogs I follow, and I definitely have not kept up with my own writing and cooking. I've been feeling down and in a deep deep rut ... my toddler is dragging me through this rut, actually. I have no time for anything. I don't know how I ever thought that I was busy when I didn't have kids. Hell, I don't even work and I have no time!

The knife collection is back. The star player, i.e. the chef's knife, was missing for a couple of weeks. I had a Henckels and liked it very much, but the wood handle was pulling away from the tang and reached a point of no return. I asked my knife guy what to do and he said that They should give me a new knife for free because it's a manufacturing defect he sees all the time. Free? New? So I call and customer service tells me to send it in and if they "determine it to be a manufacturing defect," I will get a new knife or be "offered" one at wholesale. No, no, my knife guy said. You tell them a new one and nothing else. Hmmmm. I don't know how to wrangle and bargain. I do not think I was ever a Turk in a past life. Completely foreign; it makes me totally uncomfortable. I am convinced there is a world of secret passwords and just the right amount of complaining at a perfect E flat in order to get what you want.

So I sent my knife in with a note detailing the damage and that I like their knives and I deserve a new one! Then I read the Henckels fine print about "manufacturing defects" and got all worked up thinking that there was no way I would get a new knife. I just knew those bastards were going to screw me! Uh, the humanity!

Happily, I was wrong. I received a lovely, brand new knife in the mail. Yeah! So sharp and delightful.

I made some new bread. I told you I intended to try a baguette, so here it is. I know; I know. It's funny-shaped. When I slid it from the peel onto the stone - I need a new, bigger stone, by the way - part of it slipped over the side, so I tucked it back on, at great peril to my fingers and forearms.

It was good. The texture was nice. BUT I wasn't too fond of the crust. AND the other loaves I made from the dough came out weird. Well, one of the loaves, anyway. I made a batard for my neighbor and one for me. I really hope hers was okay because part of mine wasn't cooked. I think it had to do with a sort of hard, goopy part that was stuck to the container from the last dough that was in there. The authors of my new-fangled bread book said to go ahead and keep adding dough to the same container because you can build a nice particular sourdough, but I don't intend to do that again. Or it might have been my rolling technique. Anyway, how do I get that crunchy crunchy crust? Gah! I'm just going to have to try a real baguette, with its crazy manifold steps and rituals. Do I have to sacrifice something to Escoffier?

It made excellent pizza dough, however. The topping was totally random but so good that I will definitely try to repeat it. Try. Does this happen to you: I tend to throw a bunch of stuff on a pizza and it comes out awesome! Oh! Josh and I oooh and ahhhh about it being the best ever... never to be replicated because it was so organically spur-of-the-moment. Hm. On this one: zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant - all sauteed in olive oil. The sauce: garlic-thyme olive oil made by heating those in oil. Cheese ... and maybe sausage, too.

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.

Italian(ish) fare

I have been trying to get a post out for a week now. I think that toddler who lives here and demands my constant attention was more demanding than usual this week. Plus, I just couldn't sit down for the time necessary. Do you have days like that? You just can't get into a sit groove. Anyway.

I must confess my love for Mario Batali. I used to watch his show religiously - Monday at 11am on the Food Network. He wove in personal stories as well as historical and sociological information from the various regions in Italy. I appreciated that. I have made a few of his meals, and one has become a favorite in our house: fritelle sarde, or sardine fritters. A couple things, right off the bat: (1) I often use trout instead of sardines because I am (was) afraid of sardines due to a bad experience. ... Oh, okay, I'll tell you. I tried one straight out of the tin! I tried to backpedal and forget the experience by trying one again and working really hard to tell my taste buds to just give it another shot. I had #2 with mustard and on bread, but there was no going back. (2) I don't make them "fritters" in the sense that I don't deep fry them. Mario had a whole jug of olive oil for frying and I just can't bring myself to use that much oil, so I pan fry and simply flip.

I've been using canned trout (the recipe is for canned fish), but Josh recently read that sardines are good for us - all of us, that is. They have more omega-3's than salmon; their place on the food chain means they aren't full of toxins, unlike other canned fish I could mention. So I decided to give sardines a try and made the fritters for lunch. Well, I'll be horn-swaggled, they were great. Lovely with a little pa amb tomaquet, or tomato bread, which was standard fare in my adopted city of yore, Barcelona. Notice that I threw on some capers because I saw a fellow blogger with a similar Maltese bread dish that uses the little briny fruit, and I though, Why not? Indeed! A delight!

Speaking of tomatoes in Spain. I recall marveling at the distinction between salad and bread tomatoes. I lived with an older woman and a Dutchman who both bought greenish, rock-hard tomatoes for use in salads, while saving the red ones for bread. Not only did they save these, but they let them further ripen on the counter, getting to the point where the skin started to wrinkle. Yuck, I thought! I came around pretty quick - never to the hard salad tomatoes, but definitely to the bread tomatoes. If you've never had it, it's quite lovely. You take a red, red tomato, slice it in half horizontally, then squeeze the guts out onto a nice baguette (toasting is optional). I think it's nice to let it sit for a bit to soak in. Then, you drizzle e.v. olive oil over that, and sprinkle salt generously. Simple and so nice. Slap some jamon on there, perhaps a fritelle, or a tortilla (omelet, to my Western friends who will think I am talking about a Mexican corn or flour tortilla). When I have really good garden tomatoes, then I put the whole slice on the bread instead of just the guts. Enough salt is the key to really unlocking the flavors.

I also made this beauty. I already told you that I got a new cookbook, by Lydia Bastianich, right? It's on my cookbook list. I made the meatballs in broth from it. I was looking to do something with greens that didn't involve simply sauteing them, not that this isn't a fabulous way to do greens. I mean, no fuss means you get unadulterated greens flavor, not to mention fewer calories and a way easier preparation. But I was looking to fuss, I suppose, when I happened upon erbazzone with chard filling. Yes, please. I created shortcuts by using store-bought pie crust instead of making my own dough. But I definitely am going to make some dough out of this book because many of the recipes use olive oil as the fat. What?! Italians are so crazy. Don't even get me started on Berlusconi, am I right?

Trout/Sardine Fritters:

2 tins of trout or sardines (packed in water or oil, smoked or not, according to taste); 2 eggs, lightly beaten; 2 cloves garlic, minced; 1/4 cup parsley, minced; 1-2 T chopped pepperoncini; 1/2 cup bread crumbs; 1 T grated caciocavallo/Pecorino/Parmesan cheese.

Mix everything. Then make fritters any size you like, I guess. Mine are a couple inches in diameter. You can deep fry them as balls, or slightly flatten them and pan fry in as much or as little oil as you like. Serve simply with a salad and lemon wedges.

Erbazzone with Chard Filling:

1 lb. chard, cleaned, cut into thin slices, ribs cut out and tossed (or saved for stock); 2 T olive oil; 2 garlic cloves, sliced; 1/2-1tsp. salt; 2 eggs, lightly beaten; 1/2 grated Parmesan; 1/4 bread crumbs; 1 tsp. fresh rosemary, minced; 1 batch dough of choice.

Prep the chard by bringing a pot of water to a boil and mixing in the chard. Turn the heat down to a simmer and cook for 5 minutes. Drain chard really well, squeezing excess water out. Heat olive oil over medium heat, add garlic and saute lightly. Mix in chard and salt to taste, and saute until the chard is dry, but not browned, just a couple minutes. Put the chard mixture, and the rest of the ingredients in a bowl and mix. Roll out your dough. Add the mixture to the dough and fold over the corners so it's like a picture frame. You can bake either on a stone or on a sheet pan, at 375. The time will depend on your dough. My pie crust took about 25 minutes.

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.

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.