The Bread Bug

I seem to have caught some sort of bug.

A while back Molly commented on this very infection that keeps a young woman close to her stove, breathing deeply of activated yeast and kneading mixtures of flour, water, salt, and sweetness into happy little balls. My mom caught it for several years when I was young, and, even though I'm not quite in the "after college and before the kids start school" stage yet, I did just turn 22, which puts me in the right age bracket (again, according to Molly).

I've often dreamed of nonchalantly making bread: instinctively knowing when it's been kneaded enough, when the shaped loaf is taut enough, when the bottom sounds hollow enough. I'm hardly there, but thanks to the inspiration of my uncle and the reliability of Cook's Illustrated's recipes, I am continuing to sharpen my skills.

Several weeks ago I start making a multigrain bread when, midway through its first rise, I was invited to some friends' house. I decided to simply cart along my dough and finish the process there. Of course everyone went crazy over the delicious smell filling the air as the bread baked, and, try as I might, I could only swat away hands from the cooling loaves for so long. We sliced into the warm, hearty crumb and blissfully enjoyed the chewiness of the crust, the nibble of the sunflower seeds, and the soft center.

From that late night snack, I was "hired" to bake another two loaves, so this weekend I finally got around to it. But as my friend's two loaves sat on the counter waiting to be picked up, I started wanting a loaf for our own apartment. I spent the better part of Saturday scanning the internet for recipes and yet procrastinating on the process (somehow rationalizing that sitting at my computer was at least closer to actual studying than being in the kitchen). But when I woke up Sunday morning to drizzly rain, the only thing I could think to do was bake more bread.


This time I built my dough off of Molly's recipe for Rancho La Puerta Whole Wheat Bread. I added a few ingredients I knew my cupboards could bare getting rid of, such as raisins, poppy seeds, and ground flaxseed. I also spontaneously sprinkled cinnamon on the dough before shaping it into a loaf, but the amount was too conservative to add any detectable flavor. In the end, the simplicity of the whole wheat base shone through, and between us four girls and visitors, the loaf was gone by Monday morning.

After the weekend, I was out of yeast. But don't worry, I have already bought some more and am dying for the free time to try out new recipes, perfect the reliable ones, but, mainly, I want to stick my fingers into a bowl of wet dough and get to work it with my palms and peek under kitchen towels at growing bumps in greased loaf pans.

I know, I know. This bug has hit me hard.


Sharing the love: above is a slice of bread destined for a friend.

Pass the Excellent

Do not ask how 20 days slipped by since my last post! I think I'm going to require further grace in the coming months. Right now the end of another semester is keeping me very busy.

Please don't get the idea that I'm a high-maintenance kind of girl, but the hobbies I entertain/dream about the most are quite expensive to maintain, especially on a college budget. I would travel, frequent local markets, cook, bake, and call life good, if I could. In the location I'm at, fresh and natural food don't come even reasonably priced but maybe some day. Until then, I am facing the worthy challenge of counting these days as equally significant and lovely as those to come.

I am doing my best to maintain this blog and have come to enjoy the excuse to write, shoot photographs, and connect with others over food. Right now my priority is using up what I have before I leave for the summer and sticking to a budget (unfortunately ingredients for a fresh stone fruit claufoutis do not fit within these parameters). However, I always have salad ingredients on hand and plenty of oil, herbs, garlic, and tomato sauce crowding my cupboards. With the temperatures rising to unbearable heights (I melt at 80 degrees unless, of course, I'm at the beach), I haven't been in the mood to spend much time at the stove, so a salad dressing made a lot of sense.

This particular dressing is my mother's own recipe, and I hesitated for a moment to post it here because my family has exclusively prized it for many years.

I have flickering memories of visiting small specialty stores in Auckland, New Zealand with my mom when we were preparing to move back to the States.* Behind sliding glass refrigerator doors sat jars of her speckled orange dressing with a simple, pretty label. The profit she made from selling this dressing to friends, the staff at my school, and small stores like this one helped my family make the move back.

We grew up asking for "Excellent" at the dinner table. I think the labels on the jars my mom sold read "Rachael's Excellent Dressing" or maybe it was "Rosie's" - that's how my older brother, with a clearer memory than me, remembers it. This dressing is sharp yet not overpowering, slightly sweet but mostly tangy. It contains a variety of ingredients combined into a pleasing, addictive flavor great for cold pasta and salads abundant with vegetables.


The bowl I poured my freshly made dressing over contained cold skillet roasted potatoes and onions, turnip greens, tomatoes, mushrooms, and sunflower seeds. The combination was delicious, but there are so many other possibilities. Play around!


Rachael's Excellent Dressing

Makes about 2 cups.

1-1/4 cups canola oil
1/4 cup wine vinegar
1/4 cup water
3 tablespoons tomato sauce
(ketchup is acceptable, but I tend to reach for this)
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 large garlic clove
1-1/2 teaspoons Vege-Sal (or other salt)
1-1/2 teaspoons honey
1-1/2 teaspoons dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon rosemary
1/2 teaspoon basil
1/8 teaspoon black pepper

Put all ingredients in blender. Blend well.

*Ammendment on 4/28: My memory did indeed fail me. Apparently my mom bottled and sold this dressing to earn money for our family of six to travel back to the U.S.A. for a family reunion the year before we left NZ for good. Not too relevant to making Excellent, but important to the integrity of creative non-fiction (can you tell I'm taking a writing class this semester?).

Spiced Green Apple and Life From Then to Now

Since my farewell blog on February 7th the tree outside my bedroom window has gone through notable stages. A few more brown shriveled leaves let go of otherwise bare branches. Ice coated its surface on a particularly cold day and created teardrop-like icicles that eventually surrendered their emotions and fell to the ground. Then the alternately hot, cold days here in Abilene averaged out to more hot than cold and green life began to peek through. Now those green buds are full new leaves and I am loving how the sunlight dances through them.

I feel like certain aspects of my life have gone through such drastic changes in the last two months. In February I was still fighting to carry out my plans for the fall semester: study art in New York City. There is an off-campus program through another school that I've had marked in my calendar for more than a year, but as I began to discuss the specifics with the art department at my current school (I learned about it at a different college I attended last year) the logistics began to look more tricky. The credits would be difficult to transfer, but what ultimately stopped me was that the cost of the program increased beyond what I could justify borrowing.


Honestly, the thought of spending yet another consecutive semester here made me run in search of alternative (cheaper) programs. I started an application to the University of Georgia's branch in Italy and even tried to arrange my classes so that I could stay there the whole year. I was ready to pack up and return to Europe.

Something caught me though. I feel like it was more a well-meaning foot stuck in my path in order to trip me, plant my face on the ground, and make me examine what is in front of me before getting up and dusting off. I still don't know clearly what I'm supposed to be looking at, but I think there's a measure of peace I'm supposed to reach with this place before I flee leave again.

While the class I came to this university with is graduating in May, I have a few good friends who are staying through, including my roommates, who I look forward to more time with before we all go out into the big wide world. In addition, I have an uncle, aunt, and three adorable little cousins a few hours away who I hope to see more of.


My roommate, Kelly, and I got a wonderful weekend away with them in March that had me tapping lightly at my computer keys, wishing I could log onto my blog and tell you about the fun we had. My uncle is a masterful bread-maker who taught us about growing starters, shaping the perfect loaf, and splashing water onto the sides of the oven in order to create steam for the baking bread (something that requires aim I lack so as not to pop any light bulbs or kill the oven altogether).




Oh, but I almost forgot to mention...! In the midst of mourning the loss of next year's travel plans, I am taking a long-dreamed-of trip to Japan this summer. The university in my hometown of Bellingham is taking a group of art students for three weeks in July, and I am joining them. We'll be traveling all over, learning about traditional and modern Japanese art, and when the program is over I'll stay an extra week at my friend's home north of Tokyo. I am so excited!

It will be a whirlwind summer, so I am grateful for the brief time I got with my family for the Easter holiday. I wish I had pictures to share, but I arrived at the airport twenty minutes before my flight left and had to leave my suitcase (containing my camera) in the trunk of my friend's car. I made a dash for the gate with just my purse and lasted through the long weekend in Northern California borrowing necessities from my sister. It was entirely worth it.


The pictures I have posted are a condensed cataloguing of life since we parted in February, including a little bit of the art I was able to do (above, you simply see the view over my computer: two sketchy drawings, a coaster from a great brewery back home, and one of my favorite photos from London).


And if you made it this far, I do in fact have a recipe to recommend for you. It is from a little while ago, but I've been saving the photos and exaltations for the right time. Now is my opportunity to share an nontraditional green apple "chutney."

Borrowed from Jennifer at Milk and Cookies, I found a few slightly different uses for this tangy, spiced fruit condiment. Initially, I made it because I had whipped up some simple vegan "omelets" of carrots, onions, and zucchini mixed with garbanzo flour and water that just needed a little something extra. The next week I was having to do some scavenging for dinner and ended up with a bowl of roasted new potatoes topped with the spiced apples and a dollop of crème fraîche. It was so good I put off my trip to the grocery store and had the same thing for dinner the next night!

So, in consistency with my most recent method of posting recipes, I'm pointing you toward the link:
Spiced Green Apple.


*Here's a little note on why I have begun to post recipes like I do: I find most my inspiration for the kitchen online, and when I come across a recipe that is perfectly good as is, I feel like the most appropriate thing to do is point you toward where credit is due. I still enjoy being able to converse about great food and relay my successes (and failures). When I end up adapting a recipe or referring to a cookbook I will post the recipe directly on my site. So, when you scan my post for the recipe I am referring to,
the link will look like this.

Cookie Thursdays

Hello! Thank you so much for your patience with me in this last month+ as I disappeared from the food blog world. I especially appreciated the occasional comments I still received!

I will admit that this little "fast" of mine ended more than a week ago, but I've gotten out of the blogging rhythm, so it's taken me this long to finally sit down and write. I have also found the idea of picking up again a bit daunting because so much has happened since my last post in February. So, I'm going to go ahead and fill you in on a new ritual of mine and point you toward the recipe it revolves around. Then you can keep reading if you're interested in a broader life update...



Envision cookies, dozens of them, pushed into crooked rows on a counter top after the one cooling rack in our kitchen has overflowed.





Out of the freezer comes a cold, sweet log of dough; a long blade precisely slices, slices, slices until there's no more to slice; a baking sheet comes out of the oven; another goes in; the timer is set for nine minutes; I have seven minutes to breathe and get out of the hot kitchen until the ritual starts over again.



When I offered to provide cookies for a work-related meeting I had no idea they would be a success, that this pattern--measuring, sifting, whirring, rolling, freezing, slicing--would become second nature to me in a matter of weeks. Yet, here I am on another Thursday evening, having risen at eight o'clock to turn the oven on before jumping in the shower and thinking of the two containers of cookie crumbs sitting in the break room at my office.

It really has been a joy to provide cookies to such an enthusiastic group of co-workers (actually, they're all pretty much my bosses). After that first batch of cookies was made and the leftovers were devoured in the break room a note appeared in their place proposing a "Lael, please, oh please, refill the cookie box" fund.



Ever since the end of February I have been taking this fund and delivering batches of cookies to the office on Thursday mornings, for which I receive elated faces and satisfied moans. Honest. These cookies are serious business. And I wish I could take full credit for them, but all I did was snag the recipe from Smitten Kitchen who adapted it from Dorie Greenspan.

I have to admit that Deb of Smitten Kitchen hit on something pretty amazing. The crumb of these cookies is delicate and modestly sweet. The whole thing melts in your mouth and the base is so versatile that you can customize each batch to almost any palette.

The office's biggest fan of these cookies is Steven, and one day my friend and I were cruel enough to convince him that they had all been eaten before he had a chance to get any. You should have seen the look on his face. But when he found out we had lied this was his response:

"I was mad, but after one cookie, I was filled with nothing but grace."

And this is my absolute favorite quote of his:

"If I were single, these cookies might make me give up my search for a meaningful relationship."

I really don't know what else to say. You're just going to have to try them!

Not wanting to take any credit away from Smitten Kitchen for these little wonders, follow this link to the recipe for her
Slice and Bake Cookies.

Here are just a few of the variations I've made:

• zest of two limes and 1/2 cup coconut replacing equal parts flour
• 1/4 cup cocoa powder and 1/4 cup mini chocolate chips
• 1 t. fennel with pine nuts on top (inspired by this cookie recipe)
• 1/4 cup chopped candied ginger and 1/4 cup mini chocolate chips

Okay, so I think that's where I'm going to wrap things up tonight. I promise I'll be back to fill in some gaps (e.i. post artwork, etc.) later. The sun has gone down, friends are coming over soon, and I need to scrub some spots on our kitchen floor. Ciao!

Taking a Break

I have decided to take a break from blogging and blog-visiting for about six weeks. This is not only an effort to make a daily sacrifice but to use the time I would ordinarily spend on blogs expressing myself through painting and drawing and other types of creativity that are more difficult to discipline myself in.

I started this blog last October and have been so grateful for the comments and encouragement I have received. I have been inspired in cooking, art, and word by many in this food blog world, including Orangette, Chocolate & Zucchini, 101 Cookbooks, Aapplemint, and Smitten Kitchen. Go explore their sites if you haven't before. Just remember to come back to me!

Peace to you in this season -- the mingling of winter's chill with spring's hopeful awakening.

Surprised By the Common Orange.

My watch says it is going on six o'clock. Katie Melua's Pandora station is crooning to me in this quiet apartment. It's a lovely evening.

And if I stay inside pretending the sunshine giving a glow to branches and rooftops is as warming to the earth as my soul, it becomes even lovelier. Especially with the empty plate next to me. Scraped lines of crème fraîche and orange nutty crumbs are all that remain of a delicious orange cake.

Let me tell you about this cake. It is perhaps the most unusual recipe I have ever made, but when I stumbled upon it on Nigella's website I jotted down "oranges" on my grocery list.

However, I have the horrible habit of grazing over recipe directions until I am actually standing in the kitchen with ingredients spread before me. So, there I was Saturday afternoon with an orange in each hand, surprised to learn that I was supposed to plop them in a large pot of water to boil for two hours. Really? Whole oranges?

Shrugging my shoulders I obediently followed Nigella's prompting and returned to my bedroom to study.


Two hours later I had a pot of very yellow water and whole oranges that looked almost exactly like they had before. But as I picked up on the recipe, which now required the simplest of steps, a beautiful batter came together.

After I put it in the oven I finally began to get excited. For, as I was turning on the faucet to rinse out the mixing bowl, I decided to swipe a finger along the bowl's rim, and what I tasted was sweet and honest. Real citrus. Nibbly almonds.

Delicious.

I've been sharing the cake around since and it's still getting compliments. Tomorrow will likely be its last day of glory, but I know the recipe won't stay neglected for too long. Whether with afternoon tea or at a special dinner, there are too many occasions for cake out there. There are also too many citrus fruits out there secretly desiring to be dunked in a pot and minced into a proper pudding. (There. That word was my ode to Nigella, to Oxford, and to all things British/Kiwi that I love.)

Now go. Bake. Eat with those you love.


Orange Cake Recipe
by Nigella Lawson

The original recipe is called Clementine Cake and a link to US measurements can be found on the above link or by clicking here.

Go here for a more detailed description of the recipe.

Soup and Bread and Wind

One of the first things I noticed when I walked into my room after returning from Christmas break was that the leaves on the tree outside my window had mostly fallen and only sparse, uneven bunches on the lower branches remained. These still cling to the tree in their brown shrivelled state.

As I listen to the wind and watch it shake these persistent leaves, they continue to hold on.

Just a few minutes ago I was outside, facing the same temperamental wind, wondering at times how my feet were still holding on to the ground as gentle gusts built to a violent momentum and then dropped back down to stillness.

The first leg of my walk around campus was the worst. I had to consciously lean into the wind and turn my squinted eyes downward. About halfway along this straight path with nothing but the aggressive sound of the wind in my ears I almost turned around, ready to forfeit my walk just to feel the wind at my back.

However, as I began to come up with cliché life metaphors for this wind, I determined to continue through while memories of windy times entered my mind. They are sweet memories. The kind of memories that cause the corners of my mouth to curl upward until I stop myself from breaking into a full blown smile or laugh. You know what I mean, right?

The windiest place I have ever been is Pali Lookout on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. My favorite impressions of this place are from a home video when I was about one year old. Too young to remember (in fact, I wasn't even present. I was tucked away in the car with my mom) my older brother Jared and my dad walked toward the peak. In the video Jared takes off the pointy hood of his sweatshirt and gives the camera a comical grin as his golden brown hair is whipped around. (Then he proceeds to weave in and out of the railings leading to the peak by climbing over and flipping through -- something I'm sure he would still love to do if he could.)

Though I can assume we made it back up to Pali Lookout at least once in our Hawaii stops between New Zealand and the USA from 1990 to 1994, the personal experiences I recall there are from a trip with my sister and aunt at age thirteen and once again with a larger collection of the family when I was sixteen. Memories like these are always so precious. I have been blessed by an amazing family, both immediate and extended, and it's always fun to spend time with such people in a place where you can count on a powerful wind. Whipped and ratted hair, shouted conversations, wisely paranoid women pressing their skirts to their legs, these are all common sights at Pali Lookout.

So as my mind's eye filtered through memories I eventually made it to a bend in the path and entered peaceful air. By the time I was back in my apartment, I was thinking of a warm soup or hot bath for my chilled yet refreshed body.

Since I finished off the last of an amazing soup yesterday, I'll have to opt for a bath after I post this. But now is where I tell you about that soup.

My sister emailed me the recipe a couple weeks ago, which she found on the website of a Northwest restaurant we love. While we usually go to Anthony's for the Bailey's Irish Cream Mousse, I will certainly look for this item on the menu next time because I don't think I could ever get sick of it (...and then I'll finish it off with the mousse!).

The ingredients blended into a very lovely soup, creamy from the potatoes and sweet from the parsnips and pears. Perfect for wintertime.

And, because I'm pleasantly surprised by the beginnings of my breadmaking ventures, I have to sneak in a picture of the loaf I made to go along with it. Not bad, aye?



Soup. Bread. I think my stomach just grumbled.

Find the recipe at the bottom of this page on Anthony's site:
Parsnip, Potato, and Pear Soup.