more bread

further experimentation with biga and poolish.  fig hazelnut adapted from here. the apricots were swapped out for figs, the hazelnuts were toasted instead of left raw, and chopped instead of left whole. fistfuls of whole wheat and amaranth flour made up the bulk of the bread flour weight resulting in a denser, sweeter, creamier crumb. the only strangeness of working with these breads is that there is no supreme oven-spring or loft as with commercial yeasts. this could be due to the cooler temperatures of the kitchen, the sporadic behavior of the rebel yeasts that have been snatched from the air or my lack of finesse in the fermentation process. likely it is a question of finesse.

fig hazelnut bread
(adapted from cristina's tuscan table)

1 1/2 teaspoon yeast
1 c warm water
1 tablespoon molasses
1 tablespoon honey
3/4 t olive oil
2 tablespoons rolled oats
1 cup biga
3 cups high-gluten bread flour (or a mixture of your choice. 1 cup of bread flour is necessary to provide stout enough gluten matrices to suspend the figs and nuts. the other two can be varied. amaranth, spelt, and whole wheat are all sweet earthy flours that pair nicely with the fruit and nuts.)
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3/4 c figs, chopped thinly, lengthwise
1/2 cup hazelnuts, whole, skin-on

preheat the oven to 350

spread the hazelnuts on a baking sheets and toast, stirring occasionally until fragrant, about 10 minutes. once properly toasted, the skins on the hazelnuts will be quite alarmingly black, but never fear! this is the indication that the nuts are golden brown on the inside. wrap the nuts in a tea towel and rub back and forth until the skins loosen and flake off. chop coarsely and set aside.

in the bowl of a stand mixer with a dough hook, dissolve yeast in warm water. add molasses, honey, oil, oats, biga and flour. mix on low, adding salt after about 5 minutes. continue mixing until dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl, about 3 minutes after adding the salt. if the dough is too sticky, add more flour, 1/4 cup at a time until the dough masses around the hook.

knead in nuts and figs, turn in an oiled bowl and leave to double in volume, roughly 2 hours.

after the first rise, shape the dough. turning into a loaf pan will provide a thicker crust with a somewhat damper crust. free form loaves will spread lightly, have a thinner, crispier crust, and a drier more open crumb. both are equally delicious.

after shaping the loaf let rise a second time until doubled, another hour and a half. once fully proofed slash the dough a few times taking care not to cut any deeper than a 1/2". these slashes act as vents allowing the bread to expand without tearing, so don't neglect it.

bake to 35 - 50 minutes (longer for a loaf pan, shorter for a free form loaf) until golden brown on top and hollow - sounding when rapped sharply on the bottom.

allowing the bread to cool for 30 minutes, though difficult, allows the crumb to set and the loaf to develop flavor.

aha!

trying today, always trying for this thing. a marvel of engineering, as Mr. Roberts lovingly states in the pages long tome regarding the assembling of croissants. and in truth, it was an epic journey of the dish-washingest type. 3 days, countless hours, many loads and rounds of dishes taxing our poor wooden dish rack. but it was worth it, all agreed. croissants (at least these kind) require both a poolish (a yeast-enriched batter-like starter) and a leaven (a similar flour and water batter mixed with a tablespoon of mature starter (one that's been fed for weeks and lingering in the fridge looking highly suspicious)). additionally, these two overnight chemistry experiments are mixed into a 'lean' baguette dough (one with fairly little water and no fats) and then folded over and over (with an hours rest between) around a block of solid butter pounded flat with a rolling pin. admittedly, pounding the butter was the most rewarding part of the process (aside from eating the croissants.)

i had the silly notion yesterday that, after mixing up the poolish and leaven the night before, we could wake up to croissants within a few hours to celebrate the Big Thing. and in fact, it was not until this morning, at about noon that the things came out of the oven. yikes! but, of course, the good news is that we have a glut of croissants (a glut! eep!) that will ensure fancy mornings for at least as long as it takes me to recover from my exhaustion and begin again. next time perhaps with some chocolate down the center vein, or a fistful of gruyere and fresh thyme or split and spread with nicoise olives, anchovies, parsley, chunks of cured tuna and a few paper thin wafers of steamed potato? thoughts.

currently perusing this exciting place,
this inspiring project (yes please hiatuses in brilliantly engineered vessels!)
these photographs of the modern-day Saami culture. whew....watering eyes.

: : :

the good kind.

(  )

         Yo La Tengo's |  more stars than there are in heaven  | from their newest, Popular Songs

slow fermentation

"...though the 'sound of crust' sounds similar to the Zen koan "the sound of one hand clapping," there is also an importance difference. the attainment of the sound of the crust is like the culmination of a pilgrimage. that there is a sound that accompanies perfection is, in itself, a wonderful realization. such a sound is cathartic in that it lets escape, if even for a moment, the remembrance of the perfection that lies at the core of each of us. beauty evokes beauty, love evokes love, and the sound of crust evokes an image of our being in the process of becoming. the sound of crust is what we hear when everything comes together in those brief and too infrequent moments of pure love, pure beauty, and pure stillness. the sound of crust, then, is not quite the same as the sound of one hand clapping because crust is an outer sound, entirely of this world, the outer world. its connection with something inner is grace. the sound of crust is like an icon, not painted but baked, in which a window is briefly opened onto greater understanding..." --Peter Reinhart, Brother Juniper's Bread Book (this and other fancy titles to be found HERE! don't buy your books from amazon if you don't have to...)

Peter Reinhart, famed author of the Breadbaker's Apprentice among other myriad publications, began his work with bread as a monk in a monastery in Massachusetts decades ago. he writes about the link between bread and the Divine that was made apparent to him in his early baking days. obviously, much time and thought has gone into fleshing this out, as you can see above, but biases about theology and mainstream religion aside, his point is a well taken. that we can find the Divine (or the Universe, or the Major Plan, or God, or Whomever's name you'd like to add in) in the simplest rituals -such as bread baking- means that there is always the potential for illumination and revelation in any of the tasks to which we are truly connected. Reinhart and others emphasize the word "craft" which is a favorite word among some of my favorite people, and to this word i believe he subscribes the attitudes of tender dedication applied to a task that lights one up from the inside. this 'sound of crust' treatise seemingly can be applied to most anything one sits down to get up to their elbows in with love and tirelessness.

needing a dose of serious Illumination myself I applied myself to Chad Robertson's new(ish) book Tartine Bread which is an offshoot from the famed Tartine a bay area bakery we could all be so lucky to live near. Robertson's approach to bread, like Reinhart's, seeks to bring back the rituals of the slow rise, or slow fermentation. taking cues on the shortcomings of commercial yeast (its finished loaves tendency towards swift staleness, a flavor and crust that seem to be lacking) and the finicky schedules imposed on us by more medieval traditions that demand many hours of fermentation and bulky dough loads he has sought to bring about a renaissance of what French baker's call "the golden age" of bread baking. that is, bread made with the innovation of baker's yeast (versus the more traditional brewer's yeast leftover from beer brewing) and the slow, cool fermentation that results in a loaf with a burnished and singing crust, a creamy crumb and incomparable flavor. indeed, Robertson is wary of adding baker's yeast in at all, save for enriched doughs like brioche and croissant. the yeasts derived for the homemaker's version of country bakery bread is harnessed from the air. wild yeasts! especially those who delight in grape musk which one presents in the form of white wine that has been haunting the back of the refrigerator for a few too many weeks.

this slow fermentation demands absolute attentiveness, presence and patience. it also requires the baker to be responsive, intuitive and to use their instincts. following a bread recipes is never straightforward as we all live in places at different altitudes, with different water and different humidity. but with slow rise bread especially we are asked to respond to the bread dough as a living thing (which indeed it is) that has likes, dislikes and needs. the result, after many hours and slight oven burns does in fact give one a moment's pause, to listen to the singing of the crust and reflect on what can be done with flour, water, yeasts from the air, and patience.

in that same vein, more experiments with laminate dough are on their way, stay tuned.

spinach kale ribbons

Rosetta Constantino recently published My Calabria, a cookbook that sheds light on the cooking of her particular hometown region of Italy. Like Tuscany, Calabria champions fresh simple food whose emphasis lies on using the right ingredients at the right time for a cuisine that is both nourishing and delicious. Constantino's writing includes recipes and techniques, of course, but also philosophical musings on why these techniques have evolved. The resulting tones refer to the structure of family life, tending to vegetable patches, social mores and celebrations.

One ritual that is written with a particular reverence is that of making fresh pasta. Like bread, Calabrians make pasta regularly, deftly, and with great love. It is the simplicity of ingredients that moved me when I read over Constantino's mother's recipe for fresh pasta, an egg free alchemy of flour and water that produces delicious noodles.

Those above were made with a puree of kale and spinach and dressed simply with capers, lemon and hard cheese.

Calabrian fresh pasta
(adapted from My Calabria by Rosetta Constantino)

2 cups (280 grams) unbleached flour
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon of warm water (plus more, if necessary)
pinch salt
sprinkle of olive oil (necessary in these high deserts, likely unnecessary at sea level, or in more moist places)

whisk flour and salt in a bowl, make a well in the center. pour the warm water into the well and stir using a wooden spoon or, better, your hands. incorporate the flour slowly. don't succumb to the temptation of adding more water as the dough gets stiffer and stiffer. unless you can't keep the dough together after 5 minutes of kneading rely on the original amount of water called for. however, for sheeting pasta (for cannelloni, lasagna, ravioli, tortellini, etc. more water will be necessary to roll the pasta out into an adequate thinness.)

let the dough rest for 15 minutes. this is vital as it allows the gluten in the dough to relax adequately. if you jump the gun and start rolling before the dough is adequately relaxed you will have sore arms and torn dough instead of luxuriously supple and elastic pasta dough.

divide the dough into fourths, roll, cut and shape the pasta as desired. if you don't have a pasta machine with a cutting attachment, dust the sheets of pasta dough with flour, roll loosely and cut the rolled dough perpendicularly, unroll and voila! ribbons.

lastly, as with all pasta but especially with fresh pasta, salt the cooking water liberally. at least 1/4 cup per big pasta pot. it may seem like a lot, but under salting the water with leave your pasta bland. the water should taste like sea water, is the general rule of thumb.

also: if you roll the fresh pasta and don't want to cook it right away or if you don't want to cook all of it, you can hang it to dry on hangers or over a door draped with a pillow case) and save it for later, as with dry pasta.

the maiden voyage of the le creuset!

breaking in the le creuset under the guidance of Nigel Slater (who happens to write about food with such a powerful tenderness you can hardly believe it's snack-related.)

Potato cakes with chard and Taleggio
(adapted from Nigel Slater's Tender)


makes 4, enough for 2
1 bunch chard, kale or other sturdy green, stems removed
5 ounces Taleggio, Wigmore, Waterloo, St. Andre or other soft cheese
2 1/2 cups cooked potatoes (russet are best for this kind of cake, as the waxy flesh of red or yukon potatoes will be reluctant to maintain their shape in the pan)
1 tablespoon flour
1 egg white
4 tablespoons parsley, chopped
6 tablespoons cornmeal (polenta) coarse grained is imperative, don't use the finely ground corn that resembles flour
vegetable or olive oil for frying

fistful of fresh sage leaves

1/3 cup olive oil

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

wash the greens and steam until tender. drain. coarsely chop, reserving four beautiful leaves. set aside.

cut the cheese into small dice and mix with the coarsely mashed potatoes. (Slater mentions leaving the potato mash quite coarse and irregular as this makes for a more interesting texture of the finished cakes.) season with salt and pepper and then stir in the flour and the egg white. the mixture should be moist but not runny. not enough moisture and then patties won't hold together, too much and the cakes won't keep their shapes in the pan but will instead spread. set aside.

meanwhile, process the lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, sage and olive oil in a food processor  until uniform and brilliant green.

divide the potato mixture into fourths, and shape each portion into a patty roughly the same proportions as a hamburger.

lightly season the polenta with salt and pepper and pour into a shallow plate. dredge each potato patty in the cornmeal mixture taking care not to accumulate too much as it this will have a tendency to fall off the patties once browned.

warm a slick of olive oil in a heavy bottomed skillet (such as a le creuset!) or cast iron. fry the potato cakes in batches of two until golden and crisp. about 4 minutes per side. drain briefly on kitchen paper.

to serve the cakes drizzle each with a fourth of the sage oil mixtures and one of the beautiful leaves you'd set aside earlier.

magic.

tasty additions to the garnish are chopped olives, hemp seeds or toasted pistachios. (as always, hemp seeds should never be heated as this damages the fragile, super-nutritious omega compounds found in their oils.)

additions to the potato mixture could include a few roasted beets or parsnips or roasted tomato. 

thanks Nigel

last/first

last loaf of the year...

(whole wheat ciabatta with a wild yeast starter)

...first breakfast of the year

(whole milk yogurt, nettles, chia seeds, hemp seeds, banana, agave)