Day 15: Holy Hamburger Buns, Batman!

YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY.YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY.

ALL GONE!

Note: There's no going back to store bought after eating these buns!

Day 14: Schticky Schtuff

Pizza Dough.
Sticky.
Gummy.
Smelly.
Yummy.

Making homemade pizza crust is like...hmm...is like...child birth? Parenting? It's a pain in the you-know-where, and yet, so rewarding. You don't really know what the heck you're doing until...well, I haven't gotten that far yet.

I have this recipe for pizza dough and it's truly a yummy recipe. My family's favorite. However, it calls for a soft dough (which in bread making terms means: sticky). You absolutely must have floured hands, fingers and counter space to deal manage touch roll make this dough. I have made this crust 5 times in my life and I still don't have the hang of it yet. I forget how it provokes me to anger and wrath and swearing "I'll never make this again!" (Say that loudly, like you did that day you had to clean up 8 red Kool-Aid spills on white carpet within 2 hours. Oh, that wasn't you? Sorry. I must be projecting).

I had already made the dough and it was in Bob (see photo: 200 degree oven and hot pot of water) waiting for it's golden moment. Mr. Friend, my sweetie pie, with a pleasant smile on his face, in his most helpful, sincere voice said, "Honey, don't worry about it, I'll make it". I snorted/laughed. I answered with an innocent, demure little voice, "O.K., are you sure?".

Mr. Friend didn't know the way of the pizza crust. He put 2 cups of flour on the counter top. He thought he could lightly flour his fingers and then pick up the dough ball. He touched it and it became like bubble gum in an irritable, strong-willed, can't-stand-still, I'll-do-it-myself toddler's hair (sorry, projecting again).

I heard schmack. Schplatt. Schitt! It was apparent Mr. Friend needed some anger management therapy (like me. Which is why I'm supposed to be making bread and not allowing someone else to do it for me). I laughed. I laughed some more. The tension in my life dissipated while Mr. Friend's tension started getting more intense. After he attempted to roll it out/toss it/stretch it/throw it/smash it/cuss it/schmack it, I offered to help. Mr. Friend, in a rather booming voice, said, "NO! Don't Do! Anything"! Me, being an obedient and helpful cohort:  floured my hands, floured counter space, floured the roller and picked up the other dough ball. I rolled it out quite effortlessly and picked it up and turned it like a wheel while walking it to the pan (it stretches itself if you use gravity like a friend). It flops onto the pan and I begin dressing the pizza. Mine makes it into the oven first. Man, was I lucky to have it look so easy. I was a pro pizza crust maker (poser )for just a moment.

Mr. Friend finally threw his dough into the air. High into the air. Almost-to-the-ceiling high in the air. The dough was launched and as it hurled towards the ceiling, it spread out into a large 13" circle and landed in Mr. Friend's floured fingers and was placed on the other pan to be dressed. It was awe inspiring. He too, became a pro pizza crust maker (poser) for just a moment.

And just like child birth or child rearing, you forget how difficult it was/is. (Well, you don't forget that it was /is difficult, you just forget how difficult) You don't really know what the heck you're doing; it's all about flying by the seat of your pants (which is why pizza parlors sometimes have as part of its name, "Home of the Flying Pizza"). At the end of the day, you sit down to eat and you find joy. And, next Friday, it's pizza night all over again.

If you want the recipe for the crust, here's the link:   http://www.caprialandjohnskitchen.com/recipes/print/2501.php

Day 13: FryDay Funnel Cakes

What fun! Funnel cake batter is poured through a ...*pause and breathe*  funnel.
Yep! It's true. Quite the original name. And, to make it even more fun, this batter is fried in hot oil and then sprinkled with powdered sugar. And then, for the real thrill, you EAT IT ALL UP! 

*makes pretty decent crepe-like pancakes too, if you use the left-over batter the next morning *

Here's how it played out at our house Friday night.                     * NOTE: It's a 20-step process.

1) Eat dinner, go for a walk, run to Safeway for powdered sugar (and a few other spontaneous buys that were on sale).
2) Make funnel cake batter. So easy and so good!

3) Enlist help from Mr. Friend because frying in a Fry Daddy requires a "daddy", right? And because I thought he could handle the frying and I'd handle the eating sprinkling of the powdered sugar and cinnamon. I put cinnamon on them as well because cinnamon has a healthy effect on the body by helping regulate blood sugar (and my blood sugar was about to need help), as well as a myriad of other good things. Yeah, my logic is off, but did you also know that if you drink a 0 Calorie Diet drink and eat a Snickers bar, the diet drink will cancel out the calories of the Snickers? And of course, if you eat good food with good friends, none of the calories count!? Good thing our family name is Friend. And, by the way, why are calories considered energy? If energy is considered heat, then ice cream shouldn't count as caloric intake if you eat it? hmmm... I digress. 
4) Laugh about and verbally notice (this should not be taken as criticism by the one doing the frying. Just sayin'.) how the gloopy batter isn't clumping together like it is supposed to do. Like the professionals get it to do at the fair. Like what we imagine a funnel cake to look like in our minds eye.
5) Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon.
6) Take a sampling
7) Offer advice on how to do the next one.
8) Take a sampling
9) Add more sugar because the first sprinkling was absorbed and I couldn't see it anymore (if you can't see it, then it doesn't exist, right?)
10) Say, "Well that didn't work either, I'll do the next one".
11) Take another sampling. Oops, it's all gone.

12) Help scrape the dough off of the Fry Daddy's cage and rescue the burning funnel nuggets (that's our new name for this concoction).  

13) Sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon.

14) Yell at the kids to come eat this before it goes bad (funnel nuggets will turn on you with no warning).
15) Say, "Hey, I was going to do the next one" and then say, " Hmmm...that one almost turned out, too bad. I would like to do the next one".
16) Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon.
17) Quickly grab the funnel and batter and hold it over the oil. Start moving funnel and pouring the batter through. It's important that both hands work together here. The hot steam will burn your fingers and you'll move your funnel hand around trying to get away from the steam, but the batter hand will continue pouring and you'll run out of space within the Fry Daddy and then the batter hand will start getting a hot oil steam bath and you'll start muttering some choice words that sound like the work "funnel cake" and your cohort will be sampling funnel nuggets cluelessly nearby all the while. So will your kids. (This is where they hear "those" words that you ask them later in another life, "Where did you hear that?!" and they, trying to protect your dignity, say, "I don't know." God love 'em! They weren't as clueless as you thought).
18) Hear the words from your cohort, "Hey, that one looks pretty good". (you bet your bippy it had better look good!).
19) Say, "I'm done. You can keep doing it if you want to. I'll just sit here and eat watch. I think you're doing a marvelous job".
20) Spend the rest of the evening with a belly ache and red fingers.

Dear Bread Diary!!! *hiss*

I have no control over the end result. I DO THE BEST I can in the preparation AND THEN it's up to ??? to get you to rise. You fail half the time. You make me SO MAD! We don't have sandwich bread. I want to buy some. Yeah, that's right. The pre-made, pre-sliced and packaged stuff for $2.79/loaf! I'll show you!

STUPID BREAD! You make me look bad! Most people don't have any problems making this stuff. But woe to Michelle. Pity her. The Fool. The angry fool. Grrrrrrrrr.!!!!!!  *snarl. knashing of teeth*

Why can't I make a decent LOAF OF BREAD???!!!
I'm going to win! I will be the bread winner! I will overcome and become a proficient bread maker! I will. I will. This will not be the end of me.


I love you bread. I hate you bread. I love you bread. I hate you bread.

You love me. You love me not. You love me. You love me not.

I think you are mad at me for being mad about paying taxes and I took it out on you. Maybe I shouldn't have. But, I thought you could take it. Next time, more love. More tenderness. I won't abuse you. Please forgive me, bread. We still have 25 more days to go. Let's try to get along.

Snarky's Story (the early years)

Snarky wanted some old photos posted on here. Afterall, being a 35 yr-old sourdough starter is an accomplishment. I'm not sure if counts like dog years, but there should be some sort of shout out on the Today Show for being maintaining a sourdough for 35 years!

I'm thinking the story goes something this:
Kid - Mom, can I have a dog?
Mom - No! But, if you can keep a sourdough starter alive and healthy, we'll think about getting a dog.
Kid -

Kid grows up and invents Webkinz. The sourdough starter was the preliminary of the preliminary prototype for Webkinz. In a way, it was ol' skoole Webkinz. I'm going to stop writing Webkinz, because I do not in any way support or endorse Webkinz. If you click on Webkinz and order something, I get no $ from it. I haven't figured out how to monetize on the blogosphere yet. So, just send me a check directly if you happen to order a Webkinz. Of course, you could have a sourdough starter virtually for free!

Back to Snarky. And the old photos.

This photo was taken during the Big Chill in 1980. Snarky has fond memories of sledding with the Kid.

This is Snarky in 1984 at 10 yrs of age. The party was at Great Skate Roller Rink. Snarky remembers the first boy/girl skate, it was to the song "You're the Inspiration" by Chicago. Pizza on a sourdough crust was served. Snarky knew then that sourdough can make a difference in life. Snarky was inspired.

Snarky won first place in a Halloween Costume Contest. Snarky was cleverly disguised as......Pancake Batter.  Clever, huh? Snarky says the costume was made from scratch.

Day 12: A Dozen Days, A Dozen Scones

Here today and gone scone tomorrow. I made chocolate chip scones in my nifty scone pan.

I had a cup of Typhoo tea with my one scone. The other scones weren't accompanied by a beverage.
And it wasn't just me eating them.
There were others.
Honest.

Scones are considered a quick bread. They're quick to make and quick to eat. And just a tip for those who may want to make some, I use my fingers to smush the butter and flour mixture instead of the pastry blender. I find I have better results. Plus, it's sort of therapeutic. Remember, I'm learning to manage my anger.


A brief history of scones(and believe me, the history of a scone is brief):

Scones originated in Scotland in the early 1500's. They were originally made from oats and griddle-cooked. They became popular once Anna, the Duchess of Bedford started ordering them everyday with her afternoon tea. They are still a traditional accompaniment to "Afternoon Tea  Time" (precisely 4:00 p.m.) in England. They are typically served with clotted cream as a topping. However, scones can be served for breakfast and they can be savory or sweet.

For recipes, check out this link:

http://www.kitchenproject.com/history/Scones.htm



.

Day 11: Sid's Sourdough Showdown

I now have a dimensionally-correct pan!

It was a sunny Monday at mid-day. The Sid and I had a date with destiny. This would be Sid's first time. Mine too.

It started like this: Yeast, warm water and sourdough starter (Sid) in a bowl. I added the flour. I had to  mix this dough by hand. No Kitchen Aid powerful mixer could be used. Just me, my wooden spoon (metal reacts with sourdough) 5 1/2 cups of flour and elbow grease. Sid and I made dough.

We made two loaves. The one on the right is all snug in my new pan (with the correct dimensions). The one on the left is resting in my old, dented pan (See Day 4 for details). I placed these two loaves in Bob so they would rise. Then, I had a little competition on Facebook asking people which loaf will co-operate, the one on the left or the right? It was anybody's game. And then, half through the rising time, I peeped into Bob and saw:

You can imagine what I thought/muttered/shouted. Although, I half way expected it. That's why I was taking bets. The "Left"...left us. And, I was left with the "Right" to continue rising and baking. It looked conservative and well...right.

However, the "Left" became more... wrong.

I had to think fast. What to do with the destruction of  "Left". Ah hah! I'd roll 'em up and make little rolls. Forget brushing oil on them, I sprayed them with Canola Cooking Spray!

Meanwhile, "Right" was getting it's smell on in the oven and the aroma was permeating my house. It was difficult to concentrate. I was in love. The fragrance of Sid's "Right" absolutely un-did me. I waited close to Bob, not wanting to leave the room. I was anticipating the taste of the warm loaf. I was a bit nervous when thinking about it, would it be all that I was hoping for? Or, would it fall short of expectations?

I pulled the loaf out of the oven and allowed it to cool (not long though). I sliced into "Right" and ate the first slice. Mmmmmm.

And then, I remembered the "Left" and what all had transpired. Expansion. Big Bread that now has to support more of itself by creating more divisions. But, that's the way "Left" rolls. (Sorry for the pun). I now had to support 9 little rolls of bread and hope that they could all rise uniformly. I was in too deep to turn back now. Being that Bob was too hot for young, fledgling rolls, I had to settle for the little room down the hall. It wasn't quite warm enough, but it was all I had. And it was warmer than the rest of the house. Will this plan work?

It looks like we made the best of it. Nine little sourdough rolls, four hungry people. How do we divide this evenly? I guess I'll  "sample" one and then do a re-count.

Random Sourdough Facts

Random things I’ve learned and heard about sourdough. Truly, this is a random post.

• When starting a sourdough, it takes 72 hours to incubate. Once the 3 days are up, you can store sourdough in the fridge indefinitely. Of course, you have to feed it, stir it, use it or share it within 14 days.
•  
• Sourdough was originally used because it’s a natural leavening agent. When yeast wasn’t as accessible or plentiful as it today, this is what people used. “It’s been around for centuries. Before the birth of Christ, ancient Egyptians reportedly captured wild yeast from the air and mixed it into their dough because it made their bread rise.” (Southern Living Cookbook 1987, pg 91) I wonder how they captured the yeast? Does yeast still float around in the air? I imagine ancient Egyptians walking like an Egyptian with their butterfly nets in the air. Those who weren’t working on the pyramids were making papyrus paper or catching wild yeast.
• “As it ages, the flavor mellows, imparting progressively more sourdough flavor each time its used”, reads my cookbook. I agree. The older I get, the more mellow and snarky I become!
• Sourdough should be stored in glass, stoneware, or plastic because metal can cause a chemical reaction with the starter.
• You have to feed the starter or use it within 14 days. And you must stir it daily. It could be the closest thing to a pet for some people.
• “Never cover the container too tightly, gas needs to escape and air needs to get in to react with the yeast.” Ahhh…isn’t that cute? Sounds like my boys when they have friends over.
• Sourdough can make hootch (cheap, homemade liquor) . Hmmmm... more possibilities.
• There’s a whole sub-culture of people who deal with sourdough as a way of life. Check out sourdough.com
• It is said that when a starter is moved to a new location, it changes to match the local environment. Even though this starter started out in California, it would now have the same organisms as your homegrown baby starter.

Remember Snarky? I wrote about Snarky the 35 yr-old sourdough starter the other day (click here). Well, I have since found photos of Snarky throughout the years. I'll be posting them periodically throughout the days and weeks ahead.
 
This photo here is a baby picture of Snarky circa 1974.
Cute, huh?

Day 10: Doughnuts for Dinner!

A Moment on the Lips, A Lifetime on the Hips

I have decided that while I'm on this self-appointed anger-management-therapy-of-making-bread that Fridays will be fried bread day. Get it? Fry-Day? Yeah, go ahead and groan.

So, usually, Friday is pizza night. However, we had a later lunch than usual so I declared doughnuts for dinner. What a hit! If you want your family to really love you, make doughnuts for dinner. It seems wrong to eat this for dinner, but really, it felt so right.

Then, there was the "morning after" thoughts, the "awwwww, what I have done?", the "my jeans don't fit!", and of course the guilt. But then to remember the delight of the doughnuts. The men's expressions were that of shock and awe. It was like Christmas with a 4 year-old. The guilt dispersed (and the fat re-distributed).

 I found a recipe that didn't require an overnight resting period. And I think the cinnamon and nutmeg are perfect for the dough's flavor. Here are some pictures for you to enjoy as well as the recipe.

Glazed Doughnuts (Southern Living Cookbook 1987 pg 104)

* Italics are mine

1 pkg dry yeast

2 Tablespoons warm water (105-115 degrees)

3/4 cup warm milk (105-115 degrees)

1/4 cup sugar

3 Tablespoons shortening

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg  + a little more. yum

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon  I used a tad-bit more. yum

1 egg (fresh from a warm water soak)

2 1/2 cups bread flour

Vegetable Oil

Glaze - 2 cups powdered sugar and 1/4 c milk combined and stirred until smooth.

    Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large mixing bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Add milk, next 6 ingredients, and 1 cup flour; beat at medium speed of an electric mixer until blended, about 2 minutes.  Stir in remaining 1 1/2 cups flour. Cover and let rise in warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in bulk.

    Punch dough down; turn dough out onto a well-floured surface, and knead several times. Roll dough to 1/2 -inch thickness,  and cut with a 2 1/2-inch doughnut cutter. I used a round biscuit cutter with a small star cookie cutter for center .Place doughnuts on a lightly floured surface. I used floured cookie sheets. Cover and let rise in warm place, free from drafts, 30  minutes or until doubled in bulk. I didn't cover because of my bad experiences with covering dough.

    Heat 2 to 3 inches of oil to 375 degrees;  carefully remove dough and carefully drop in 4-5 doughnuts at a time. Cook about 1 minute on each side or until golden. Drain well. Dip each doughnut, while warm, in glaze, letting excess glaze drip off. Let cool on wire racks. "Cool", what's that? These are warm doughnuts, man. You can keep your "cool". Yield: about 1 1/2 dozen.

Snarky Sourdough

My friend has been given a 35 year old sourdough starter. It’s 2010. That means it was “born” in 1974! It has, like, lived a lifetime in a fridge and has traveled to who-knows-where and has seen who-knows-what. If, every 14 days, you scoop a cup out of the starter, then this 35 year old starter has had 912.49 “babies”! Where are they now? Were some thrown away? Were they fostered and/or adopted? How many “grandbabies” did original starter have? Was there a shout out on the Today Show for it’s 35th birthday? Is that old for a starter? Are there older ones out there? Can you imagine how many jugs of milk and tubs of cottage cheese and yogurt this starter has seen in its 35 years? How many refrigerators has it called home? I wonder if sits in the cold fridge and looks forward to the daily stirring?

I've named this 35 year old sourdough Snarky.

Snarky – snide and sarcastic, usually out of irritation (Wiktionary.org)

Here is a recent photo of Snarky:

I started my own sourdough. I've named it Sid. It is only 16 days old. So far, it has only been fed once. It has made 2 loaves of "Country Crust Bread". That's all of Sid's story. Here's a photo of Sid in his home.

Day 9: Third Time is a Charm Bread

Remember my Day 4: Life is #@*! Bread? . Anyway, today I tried for the 3rd time and.....

I DID IT!!!!!!

A new group of friends of mine get together each week and tomorrow, we'll be eating bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwiches for lunch. One gal asked if I'd bring some of my homemade bread.  I agreed and the pressure was on though I didn't have any fear. I told her and myself that if I failed (which was likely), I'd just bring some store bought stuff. I was so relaxed and casual and un-apprehensive during the whole process. No big deal. It was like playing golf.

I DID IT!!!!!!

Post BLT note: this bread is too crumbly for sandwiches. It was delicious though.

Day 8: Irish Soda Bread

Not impressed. It is like a big, honkin' biscuit. I should've made gravy or perhaps added a little sugar and raisins to make a Texas-sized scone.  Here are the before and after photos of the 8" diameter loaf. Next St. Patrick's Day, I'm just going to make green mashed potatoes instead. Happy Spring Weekend to ya'll.

Day 7: French Triplets

No knead French bread is the recipe I used. It made 3 loaves. This time, I had to mix the yeast with warm water and set it aside for 5 minutes and when I did, it went rabid on me! It was the frothiest yeast mixture I’ve ever seen. It even started increasing in volume during those 5 minutes. Happy was the yeast. This recipe called for a cup of boiling water and a cup of cold water. I had to use 6 ½ cups of flour! My Kitchen Aid handled it all rather well. Then, once I was finished mixing, I had to let the dough sit for 40 minutes and I had to gently stir it every 10 minutes of that 40 minutes. Talk about demanding attention! I played along. At the end of the 40 minutes, I had to divide the dough into 3 equal parts and roll each part out into 13x8 inch rectangles. I am not good at rolling out dough into rectangles. It looked more like an impressionist’s version of a rectangle. Once they were rolled out flat, I rolled them jellyroll fashion and put them each on their very own greased baking sheet. They each rolled out a little different and I could tell that each one of the loaves was going to have its own personality. They all three handled differently. Just like my children. I wasn’t sure what to name them at this point, because it was still so early in the process.

Bob (the 200degree oven with a hot pot of water)
held what I thought was going to be the prettiest loaf (must be the girl). The little room around the corner from the kitchen was all warmed up and ready for the other two loaves to start their rising. The recipe said I was supposed to “cover them” while they rise. Eeeks. I was hesitant about that as I haven’t had any good fortune covering dough. But, I went ahead and threw tea towels over them. I just wasn’t feeling good about this though. If you have been keeping up with my journey in bread-making, you too are probably feeling apprehensive about me covering the loaves with anything.

An hour goes by. I go into the little room to check on the “boys”. I gingerly lift the tea towels; they don’t stick to the loaves. The loaves are beautiful. One of the boys is stubby and fat while the other is long with good girth. Nice. I go to Bob to check on the “girl”. The tea towel sticks. Now, I don’t mean sticks like the time it did in day 4. I mean, STICKS. Like glue. S-T-I-C-K-S. Aaaaugh! Crap! My towel now has dough stuck to it like…like….well, like I scalped the loaf. My loaf, my pretty girl loaf…. *phfft* deflated and became a lumpy, gooey blob. I called it Jack-Jack. Right then and there, the name was stuck. This was going to be that kiddo. Okay, fine, we’ll deal with this. I am a mother of boys afterall and I have experience with strong willed children. Jack-Jack was no exception. I yanked the baking sheet out of Bob and trotted to the little warm room. I looked at the other two loaves and decided I better dress them for the oven. The recipe calls for cutting slits on the top of the loaves and brushing with a milk & egg mixture and perhaps topping with poppy seeds. Well, as you know, I haven’t had any good fortune with creating holes in my bread. This results in some sort of disaster. It is at this moment that I think about if I should go through with it or shrug this part off. I leave the little room. I open a drawer and pull out a knife and a knife sharpener. If the recipe says use a sharp knife, then, that’s what I’m going to do. I walk down the hall carrying my knife and milk & egg mixture with the brush. I decide that stubby boy would go first. I carefully make my cuts. Nothing tragic happens.

I brush the mixture over the top of the newly inflicted wounds and the loaf’s little body. I quickly trot him to the 400 degree oven. He makes it in. SAFE! Uhmmm… I had sesame seeds. Where are those sesame seeds? Found ‘em! I open the oven door and sprinkle some on Francois (the loaf’s new name). Francois did not want seeds. He bounced them right off of his chest like Superman bounces bullets off of his. Okay, fine. Whatever little man, just cook and be yummy for mommy.

Fifteen minutes later, Francois is fragrant. I go to check on him and he’s awfully brown. Quite the tan. I pull him out of the oven and place him on the wire rack to cool. I turn the oven down a little bit; I’d hate to have another one so dark. I go back to the little room for the next victim. Jack-Jack is UGLY. He’s expanding in width, but not rising tall. I decide Francine (the boy who is now a girl because Jack- Jack became something other than the girl I was hoping for). Francine, who’s long and beautiful, received 5 cuts. She took them well. I brushed the milk & egg mixture over her and sprinkled sesame seeds on her. She wore them like a girl wears accessories. They enhanced her beauty 100 fold! I trotted her to the oven. She becomes a lovely shade of gold in 15 minutes. Out she comes and onto the wire rack beside her stubby little brother Francois.

Back to the little room for Jack-Jack. I must say that the slits I cut into him actually became him. Sort of like tattoos on a biker. Or a tan on a surfer. Or red paint on toenails. Or…well, you get the picture. I brush him with the milk & egg mixture and he wallows in it. He loves the goop being smeared him. I do not sprinkle seeds on him. I trot him to the oven. What you do not know about Jack-Jack is that he made for himself a baking buddy. Remember his scalped dough that was stuck to my tea towel? Well, I took a knife and scraped the stuff off. I made a little dough ball out of it. It was the size of a small apple. I cut a cross on the top of its little head and brushed it with milk & egg and sprinkled seeds on it. The little booger and Jack-Jack baked for 15 minutes. Jack-Jack rested on the wire rack while I waited all of 2 minutes to eat his little buddy. Yummy.

Jack-Jack was eaten 30 minutes later with homemade chicken soup. Francois will be consumed with a spaghetti dinner tomorrow night. Francine will get wrapped and stored in the freezer for a later date with destiny.

Day 6: In a Rush Because That's the Way I Roll Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Here's the Recipe for the bread I attempted to bake on days 3 and 4:

From the Southern Living Cookbook 1987 edition pg 89

Basic Yeast Dough (one of the Versatile doughs)

1 pkg dry yeast

1 Cup warm water (105 -115 degrees)

3 Tablespoons sugar

2 Tablespoons shortening

1 Egg

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 - 3 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour (I use the "Better for Bread" flour)

Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large mixing bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Add sugar, shortening, egg, salt, and half of flour; beat at low speed of an electric mixer until smooth.  Gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough.

Place dough in a well-greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in bulk, or cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. (If refrigerated, let return to room temperature before proceeding.)

Punch dough down; turn out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead 4 or 5 times. Shape and bake as directed.  NOTE: to shape the perfect yeast loaf:  Roll the dough jellyroll fashion according to dimensions in recipe. Let it rise in the pan.

Basically, I've made this dough 2 times already and today I would be making rolls from the dough. I let it rise in a bowl and then, I pinched off 20 little pieces and rolled them between my hands to make little balls. I laid them on a greased cookie sheet, put the cookie sheet in the 200 degree and hot pot of water oven/sauna (I am now going to name that part Bob).

They had only been in Bob for 20 minutes and hadn't risen very tall (somewhere in the recesses of my memory I think I heard about the sides of the pan are important for rising bread. I may be wrong, but I will experiment later. Stay tuned.). I had a friend who was scheduled to pick me up for lunch and  it was cutting close to that time. I decided I'd bake the little guys after only 20 minutes of rising in Bob.  *Ding, Dong* My doorbell rang. My friend was a little early, but we had to be somewhere. I told my men to take the rolls out in 20 minutes. They did. Twenty little non-noteworthy rolls. Next time, I won't lounge around in my pj's and check Facebook and grade papers and make copies and eat breakfast and take a shower and let the dog out two times and twiddle my thumbs before I get those rolls started. Next time, I'll manage my time better.  Here's a picture of the little rolls. There's only 4 left. We ate the other 16. These four were sliced in half, buttered and toasted and served as breakfast with our coffee the  next morning.

Musings From the First Week

I started this bread project because I needed a way to deal with some pent up anger and tension. I had prayed about this because I didn’t like the thought of 40 loaves and 40 days and me trying to keep up with and work at such a silly project. Read here for back-story. My husband, Sweetie Pie, suggested I blog about it. I had already considered this before he mentioned it. I just didn’t like hearing it come from someone else and to hear it out loud made me catch my breath, swallow hard and leave the room.  So, here we are, seven days into it. If you are reading this and you actually care about my spiritual application, then continue reading, otherwise, you can go check your Facebook page and do anything else you are avoiding doing because you are reading this.


Dear Bread Diary,

I don’t feel quite so angry or depressed anymore. I have attended three social occasions in the past week. Nothing major like a ball or gala, but, it is noteworthy, considering the past 4 months of depression. I actually felt social and like I could get dressed (out of the pj’s) and put a real smile on and visit with friends. One group was a group of women whom I have only met most recently. Another group was a bunch of moms of wee folk (babies and the under 10 crowd). And then meeting with one more gaggle of gals that have homeschooling in common.

I like the feel of warm bread dough in my hands. I like the kneading process. Push down and out. Turn dough one quarter turn. Fold. Push down and out. … On and on for about 10-15 minutes. Flouring hands as needed. I like the smell of yeast. I’m happy when the yeast mixture is happy. I can tell it’s happy when the mixture is bubbly and expanding. . I like the therapeutic aspect of the routine. I have to think outside of myself to prep the little room with heat, to boil some water, to read and re-read the recipe, to warm the water or milk to just the right temperature for the yeast, to prepare a floured surface and have a little greased bowl ready for the dough. The process distracts me from myself. It brings a little joy into my heart as I work it all out. Then, the whole fear sets in once the bread has risen or is done baking. I want to get passed this fear thing. I suppose bread-making is in one aspect like playing golf. You have to be relaxed and focused. There’s no room for fear or hesitancy. You can’t hold your breath while swinging. These little things will ruin your game. So, perhaps, we can apply that to life. Relax and focus. Don’t fear. Don’t hesitate. Breathe. I’m still working on my golf game concerning those lessons. I’ll start applying those principles to making bread. Hopefully, I will begin to apply this to life once again. I feel emergent. Thank you, bread, for your help. I look forward to making 35 more loaves.

Sincerely,

Your New Friend m

Day 5: Fried Bread Friday

We had our monthly small group over on Friday evening. I made French doughnuts. They are called "beignets" (ben-yays). They are light and puffy. They are typically served hot with a cup of chicory coffee or a cup of cafe Au Lait. Powdered sugar is the traditional topping. You can go anywhere in New Orleans and order these scrumptous fried and sugared concoctions. Mmmmmmmmm.

I cheated though. I used a boxed mix. But, it's the best boxed mix you can get. And you can get it at World Market.  It's Cafe Du Monde. A renown little place in New Orleans. If you're in New Orleans, you absoulutely must go there! The box looks like this:

Forgive me? I promise to make it up another Friday when I make regular yeast-risen doughnuts and possibly sourdough doughnuts. I thought that would make you make that noise I just virtually heard.

The biegnets looked like this:

The powdered sugar melted into the hot dough. It's very important that you sprinkle generously with powdered sugar. And then, just for good measure, sprinkle some more! Using a sifter works fabulously.

If you don't want a boxed mix, then here's a recipe for them from "The Little New Orleans Cookbook" by Gwen McKee. (pg 19):                                           

                                             Beignets

1 Cup of whole milk

2 Tablespoons shortening

2 Tablespoons sugar

1 (1 oz) package dry yeast

3 cups plain flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 egg

Oil for deep frying

Powdered sugar

  Heat milk till almost boiling, stirring so as not to scorch. Place shortening and sugar ina big bowl; pour scalded milk over and stir until smooth and melted.  Cool to lukewarm, then add yeast; stir till dissolved.

  Sift dry flour and salt into another bowl. Stir about half of this flour mixture into the milk mixture gradually, then add egg.  Beat batter thoroughly, stirring in remaining flour a little at a time.  Cover with a towel and set aside for about an hour till it doubles in bulk. Knead gently on floured board; roll to 1/4-inch thickness.  Cut into 2 - inch squares or diamonds with a sharp knife (I use pizza cutter/roller thingie). Cover and let rise again 30-45 minutes.

 Drop squares into hot oil (385 degrees), turning once when golden brown on bottom side.  Drain on paper towels and dust with sifted powdered sugar. Serve warm. Makes about 2 dozen.

Day 4: Life is #@*! Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Once again, I thought I could duplicate something so yummy. I really should've kneaded bread today. I woke up in a bad mood. Not sure why that happens. It takes a string of good things to happen to pull me out of it, otherwise, it's all down hill from there. Sometimes, if things  don't go too terribly wrong and I can reach the "emotionally neutral" mark on the emote-o-meter. That mark is usually where I start from.  I imagine the Price is Right Wheel and the happy mark is that big glittery green 100 mark and the @#* mark is that bright orange 0 directly under the big glittery 100. I don't know who or what does the spinning of my emote-o-meter wheel, but sometimes it isn't where I left it the day before. Let's blame my thyroid and hormones! Yeah! My thyroid made me do it. HA! HA!

Oops, I'm supposed to be talking about my Day 4 bread. I basically followed the recipe from Day 3 which was a beautiful loaf and it was consumed by my men as a bedtime snack.  Day 4 was an up hill climb for me emotionally. It was raining outside, too. Since the only mistake from the day before was the egg incident, I had pretty good hopes that today would yield better results. I even remembered the measurements and ingredients by memory. But I double checked to be sure. (whew!)  The mixing was uneventful, all went well. I even got the dough into the not-quite-the-right-dimension loaf pan and had it rising in the 200 degree/hot pot of water oven/sauna. I threw a tea towel over it for good measure. So far, a whole string of good events happening. My emote-o-meter reading was at 50 and I was going to take another spin to go for the green, glittery 100. I can hear the beep, beep, beep now and feel the anticipation of the little arrow landing on just the right number.

The tea towel became the problem. My bread rose really tall, like 4X the height of my loaf pan. I opened the oven door after an hour and went to remove the tea towel. There.Was. A. Sticky. Place. On the dough. I finagled the towel gently. *phfffff* a hole was created when the towel tore off a piece of dough from where the sticky place had been.  1/3 of the loaf deflated, then, the weight of the 4X -as- high -as- the- sides -of- the- pan caused the other side to slip down and it was cut off by the edge of the pan and I watched the dough  *plop* right into the hot pot of water.

I muttered a few words under my breath (and maybe not so much under my breath. but just maybe. I, after all, have learned to bridle my foul tongue; source of evil that it is). I heard the big buzzer from my emote-o-meter wheel go off. I over spun. Anyway,  I grabbed the loaf pan. I... with beady, narrowed eyes, and a puckered mouth with a looks-could-kill scowl, put the loaf pan down on the counter (nicely, with much control). I took out the dough, reformed it and placed it back into the loaf pan for yet another hour in the oven/sauna.

It rose beautifully. Again. Okay, I was back to a 50 on the emote-o-meter. I cranked up the temperature and waited patiently for 45 minutes today (to help compensate for the under-baked, holey bread from yesterday). I pulled out from the oven this beautiful loaf. The aroma of fresh bread is one of the most superb aromas of all  ( up there with leather and new car. Oh, and cookies). I turned the loaf out onto the wire rack to cool and the lovely (read that with terseness) loaf wouldn't pop out of the pan. The rounded top was doing the muffin top thing and sticking to the side and edges. I took a knife to wedge the edges loose. The bread was so soft on the underside of the muffin top part, that the knife slipped into the bread. Then, I had to get the knife between the pan and sides of the bread (like you do with brownies). I was mutilating my loaf. It was sad. I turned the pan upside down. Nothing happened, just a few crumbs...I shook the pan... and THE TOP FELL OFF! I flip the damn pan back over and there's still bread in it. I wedge the knife around (it was easier now that the top was removed). I turned the pan over. NOTHING! HOW was I going to get the stupid bread out?!

I....uhmmmm *ahem* slammed the pan against the side of the counter. That should do it. When all else fails, resort to violence. Nothing happened. Well, something did happen, I dented my loaf pan.

 I took the knife and hacked and scraped and tore and sliced the remaining bread to pieces until it begged me to just turn the pan over and let it fall out. It fell out. I threw the pan into the sink. I told the men there would not be anymore knives taken to the bread, we would just use our hands and rip whatever we wanted off. And that's what we did.

Day 3: I Throw an Egg at the Dough (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Found a new recipe, one that doesn't require much kneading. And it only uses 3 1/2 cups of flour instead of 6 1/2! And...once I make it, I can choose to let it rise someplace warm or shove the little dough ball into an airtight container and put it in the fridge for up to FIVE days! And...I thought that would be quite nice and useful. And...the recipe also calls for 1 egg. Egg makes bread yummy (it also makes sauces,salads and tuna yummy). The note with the recipe says I can shape the dough or put it in a loaf pan or make rolls out of it. So versiatile. That's why the recipe is named "Versatile Yeast Dough".

So, I begin with heating up the oven to the 200 degrees and put my pan of boiling water in there. We'll make it like a miniature sauna. I decided I would use my not-quite-the-right-dimension bread loaf pan. (I am supposedly to use a 9 1/2 x 4 1/2 x 3 1/2 loaf pan. Mine is like 2 inches less all way round. Well, all way rectangle). I grab one egg from the fridge and place it in a warm water bath (I've read that when baking, eggs should be room temperature. i.e. warm - not like my house which is...cold). My Kitchen Aid is happy to be working with less flour. I warm the water to somewhere between 105 and 115 degrees, because we wouldn't want to destroy the little yeast thingies. Did you know that yeast is a living organism? It is. I'll have to look up what the science classification is since we are studying genetics and Kingdom, Phyllum, etc. stuff. O.K., back to the bread. My mixer had mixed it so well. There was a beautiful dough ball in the bowl waiting to be put into it's sauna. I pick the dough up to place it into the well greased bowl and OH MY STARS! THE EGG WAS STILL IN IT'S RELAXING BATH! Grrrrr. I put the little ball back in the mixing bowl. I crack the egg and slop it on the dough. I take a spatula and start smashing it in. I turn on the mixer and the dough hook just takes the dough ball and starts sloshing the egg while swinging the dough. It wasn't a pretty sight. The egg was getting beaten and the dough was dripping with the beaten egg. I let this horrific beating continue until it seemed the egg was fully incorporated into the dough. It was hard to be sure, but I couldn't take watching this anymore.

I picked up the dough ball, apologized to it and felt remorseful about forgetting the egg earlier in the process. I placed the dough in the loaf pan so it could...loaf around in the sauna for an hour. It loafed allright! And I'm here to tell you that yeast likes to loaf. Yeast likes the sauna. My precious dough that was egged by me, it rose. It rose really tall. It was 2X taller than the 1 1/2" sides of the loaf pan. Well, as I metioned in the last two entries about having a warm little room in my house, this time, I didn't have the room ready at all. I thought I would try to bake the bread without removing it from it's little warm oven/sauna. I removed the pot of water, and cranked the oven up to 350 degrees. I came back and checked on the little cherub bread after 10 minutes and it was now 3X taller than the sides of the loaf pan. I thought it was going to reach all the way to the top of the oven and scorch it's shapely rounded top. It didn't. After 35 minutes in the oven I took the most beautiful loaf of bread out of the oven and turned it out onto the wire rack to cool. One problem to note though; because of my not-quite-the-right-dimension loaf pan, the interior part of the bread was probably under cooked because I was able to put finger holes in the side and bottom. However, there wasn't any slimy/doughy places either. Finger holes do not affect the taste of this bread. This is my new favorite recipe for dough. Granted, it's only been three days. But, if my bread loafs can turn out this pretty and perky and tasty...with no extensive kneading or too much flour...then, it's a keeper. Next time, the egg won't get as long of a bath and the dough won't get tortured.

Day 2: Pride Comes Before a Fall Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

So, if you read about my journey in the bread making "Day One" experience, then basically, Day Two is using the same recipe. I wanted to repeat the braided beauty from the previous day. After knowing where all the snafus were in the process, I was determined to do the whole process in less time with even more phenomenal results. Surely, one can learn from their mistakes and apply what they've learned given the task to do over again (?). HA! What pride cometh up into my souleth (souleth? well, it's literary license)

I was familiar with the list of ingredients, the amounts, the process involved and was ready to knead some dough. I was anxious to begin; to get on with it, to make-bake-eat! Mostly eat! Everything went smoothly. The sun was shining through my kitchen window, I had The Eagles playing on the Bose, the kids were outside playing (i.e. out of my hair). The hubby was at his stick fighting class. The domestic goddess was pleasantly blessing her family with....BREAD. There was even an Italian Style soup simmering on the stove. Pride. That beast was cleverly disguised in an "all-is-well" suit! OH! Wait! I forgot to warm up the little room, I know what happens to risen bread when it meets cold air (see Day One for clarification). I still had an hour until the bread needed that warm room. I rushed in and cranked the space heater up to 85 degrees. Really, an hour should be enough time to warm the little room. The moment came for me to take the braided beauty out from the warm oven and into that little room to be brushed (groomed) with egg white (purely for aesthetic reasons...vanity). I carefully pulled the little bundle of braided bread goodness out of the oven and transferred it to the room. I stepped into the room and I could tell is was nowhere near 85 degrees. Seventy degrees maybe, but not a warm, balmy 85! I looked down at the loaf, checking for signs of...of...of deflation. Nope. Whew! I carefully set the baking sheet down on top of the pan with hot water to keep the bread's little "bed" snuggly warm. I held my breath (not physically, the smell was absolutely wonderful). I brushed egg white on top of the bread ever so carefully. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *phttt* My little braided bundle of happiness...ffffffffffffell. Just like that. It became a horrific looking yeast/flour blob, with glistening egg white pooled in the crevices from where the well-formed braid had been. I huffed out of the room and stomped down the hall with the stupid blob and put in the OVEN (note the bold-faced word and read that with the emotional umph for which it was intended).

Thirty minutes later, I pulled the dang thing out of the oven to let it cool. Six and a Half (6 1/2)...six and a half CUPS of flour when not all puffed up from yeast, causes a dense bread. It wasn't tough, but it was...dense. When my guys showed up back inside the kitchen and saw what the domestic goddess had created, they still heaped praise upon her. It fell on deaf ears. The goddess' (say that out loud) emotional day deteriorated as quickly as her bread fell. The next morning, she and her man ate toast. And just so you know, dense bread, when buttered and toasted, makes delicious toast to accompany morning coffee.

40 Loaves for 40 Days

I've been to the Dark Side and camped there for about 4 months. At first, I thought it was my S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Then, there was a week of sunshine and nothing really changed for me emotionally. Nothing changed?! Oh my. I must've been worse off than I had originally thought. My sweet husband said he had never seen me so "bad off". So, in January, I started peeling back another layer of my emotional onion (BTW, onions always make me cry). By the time February rolled around, I was in the darkest place ever. I had remembered a phrase, "Depression is masked anger". Hmmm... my onion was rotting. So, through a series of events and questions that month, I had an epiphany. I found what I was angry about. I will not write about that right now.

I was telling a friend about this new revelation of mine and had at some point mentioned how my 10 year old bread machine had just went kaput on me. It really made me....mad....no....angry. Silly, I know. But at the time, I felt my anger was justified. So, she mentioned how her mother would make bread by hand and would put all her tension and anger into the kneading of bread. I laughed and made a quip about me making bread every day for 40 days. I'll have ripped biceps in time for Summer.

The idea stayed with me for a couple of weeks. I have decided to take this journey. I am now in anger management therapy. Bread making will be the assignment. I'm not sure I'll make a loaf every day, but I do plan on completing this self-assigned assignment before Summer. So, I pulled out my Southern Living Cookbook and looked up "Basic White Bread".

Day One: "Experimental Bread"

It took me 4 stinkin' hours to make this bread. I was so frustrated! My loaf pan was too small, so I had to make the braided bread version. And just so everyone knows, our house is at a cool 58 degrees. It's old and drafty and is heated by $3.00/Gal Oil and it takes 150 gallons/ month to keep it at a cozy (Not) 62 degrees. So, we just use some space heaters and bundle up. There, I just exposed another reason for my anger. Please, don't comment on that. Anyway, I placed the loaf in the pre-heated200 degree oven with a pot of really hot water and wished I could crawl in there with it. It took two and half hours for it to do it's rising and kneading and rising again cycle. And let me tell you, I kneaded that loaf for 12 minutes and my triceps were sore the next day. I put alot of "umph" into it. Now, the recipe calls for brushing egg white on the top of it and that requires taking it out of the warm cocoon of an oven. Gasp! Let me tell you what risen bread does when it makes a -142 degree temperature change. It FALLS! This was what I have learned pre-day One from some other disastrous cooking day (hence the bread machine began being used). But, my braided beauty...would not have such fate. I took it to a small room in the house where I had the space heater cranked up to 81 degrees for 5 hours, the door closed and people were banned from this room until the braided beauty was finally baking in the oven! I brushed egg white on the top. I kept a pan of hot water under the bread pan to help maintain the warmth. I put it back in the oven. So far, so good. It was beautiful. It baked, it browned, it was aromatic. I took a picture of it. We ate it. It was delicious. I wasn't sure I'd make another loaf until we finished the loaf the next morning (toasted with butter). Yeah. I could do it again.