A Pat on the Back

“Did you have a relaxing weekend?” J asked on Monday.

“I did! At least, I tried to relax, but I ended up baking bread all day on Sunday.” I replied, arranging slices of challah next to the office kitchen sink.

“That sounds relaxing. Wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Not really.” I sighed. “I must have done something wrong, because the dough was so runny that it spread across the counter and started dripping on the floor.” A motherly sort of person, J would sympathize with my culinary crises.

“Maybe I used the wrong flour.” I pondered.

“Is there a wrong flour?” she asked. I didn’t know. The recipe calls for “strong white flour,” but I have five different types of flour, and I wasn’t sure which was the strongest.

I chose bread flour, since I was making bread. But perhaps I should have used all-purpose. Then again, maybe my kitchen scale is defective.

Or maybe I shouldn't have used my hand-held electric mixer to mix the ingredients. Mrs. Beeton instructs us to “Rub in the butter or margarine. Beat the eggs into the yeast mixture and stir in the flour mixture. Mix to a soft dough.” As I mixed and beat the ingredients, the flour clumped into pebbles and the runny dough splashed the cabinets. It was at this point that I began to panic.

I gave up the mixer and began squishing flour clumps with my hands. This was truly a labor of love. I mixed and mixed and mixed with my hands, the mixer, a spoon—but the liquid never transformed into “a soft dough.” I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to turn it out onto a floured surface. But I did. And that’s when the dough made a run for it across the counter.

“Did you start over again?” J asked. I paused. I had never considered that option. I finish what I start. That’s how I ended up with a C+ in Latin my freshman year of college. If only I had dropped that class when my professor said, “I know you’re trying very hard, but I don’t think this language is for you.” But it never occurred to me to give up.

So, approaching hysteria on Sunday afternoon, I tore F from his book and made him cup his hands around the quickly spreading dough as I added handful after handful of flour, kneading and patting the dough, scooping flour until I had added a good cup and a half to the mix, moaning all the while, My challah! My challah!

“I probably should have started over,” I answered J, “But I just added more flour until the dough held together.”

When the dough had finally risen for the second time, I divided it into two equal portions and rolled them into strands for braiding.

The dough was still so soft that the strands melted into each other as I wove them together. I added a few more heaps of flour until the strands rested against each other without melding. I carefully transferred the loaf to a baking pan and brushed with egg. I let it rest for 30 minutes before baking.

“But the bread turned out OK in the end?” J asked.

“Yes." I replied sheepishly, "It’s actually pretty good.”

To my great surprise, the bread turned out beautifully, after all.

“So you saved it! That’s impressive.” J squeezed my shoulder and I smiled self-consciously.

“Did you pat yourself on the back?” J asked.

“Um… no.” I replied.

“You should pat yourself on the back more often.” J said as she took a slice of challah and ambled back to her desk.

As J turned away, I remembered something another J—Julia Child—once said, “The measure of achievement is not winning awards. It's doing something that you appreciate, something you believe is worthwhile. I think of my strawberry soufflé. I did that at least twenty-eight times before I finally conquered it.”

Feeling just a little bit silly, I quickly patted myself on the back and smiled.

I’ve got twenty-seven loaves to go!

Challah

From Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Baking

Fat for greasing
800g / 1 ¾lb strong white flour
10ml / 2tsp sugar
25g / 1oz butter or margarine
2 eggs
Flour for kneading
Beaten egg for glazing

Grease 2 baking sheets. Sift about 75g / 3oz of the four and all the sugar into a large bowl. Measure 400ml / 14fl oz lukewarm water. Blend the fresh yeast into the water or stir in the dried yeast. Pour the yeast liquid into the flour and sugar and beat well. Leave the bowl in a warm place for 20 minutes.

Sift the remaining flour and the salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter or margarine. Beat the eggs into the yeast mixture and stir in the flour mixture. Mix to a soft dough. Turn on to a lightly floured surface and knead for about 6 minutes or until the dough is smooth and no longer sticky. Return to the bowl and cover with cling film. Leave in a warm place until the dough has doubled in volume—this will take up to 2 hours, or longer.

Knead the dough again until firm. Cut into 2 equal portions. Cut one of these into 2 equal pieces and roll these into long strands 30-35 cm / 12-14 inches in length. Arrange the 2 strands in a cross on a flat surface. Take the 2 opposite ends of the bottom strand and cross them over the top strand in the center. Repeat this, using the other strand. Cross each strand alternately, building up the plait vertically, until all the dough is used up. Gather the short ends together and pinch firmly. Lay the challah on its side and place on the prepared baking sheet. Brush with beaten egg. Repeat, using the second portion. Cover with lightly oiled polythene. Leave in a warm place for about 30 minutes or until the dough has doubled in volume. Set the oven at 220 degrees C / 425 degrees F / gas 7.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, until the loaves are golden brown and sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.

Makes two 1 ¾ lb loaves.

Like a Crabby Old Woman

When we were little, B and I danced in the living room for our babysitter, flourishing hairbrushes and belting out "Material Girl" and "Like a Virgin" with abandon.

Many years have passed since we were that unselfconscious.

B arrived from New York City late Thursday night with two colleagues from the Jewish hipster magazine where she is associate editor. They're here in Chicago until tomorrow, ostensibly to cover Pitchfork and drum up some magazine subscribers.

She arrived on my doorstep wearing a denim jumper with suspenders, high-heeled suede boots, and a plaid blouse, and assured me she is at the height of a bizarre fashion the kids are calling "hobo-chic." Perhaps embarrassed that at the early hour of 11pm, I was wearing a matronly robe and my husband's slippers, B paused a moment before flinging her arms around me. Then she pointed to her shoulder, which bore a freshly peeling tattoo of her initials in Sanford font.

In one of our rare moments together in the last few days, my formerly shy and nerdy sister clicked through the angst-filled photos of her 987 Facebook friends to point out who among them she has dated in the last month: a bartender, a photographer, a journalist, and a documentary maker. For my belated-birthday gift, she brought me earrings made of bullet casings.

Although B's visit is technically "a business trip," I was looking forward to a weekend of getting to know this strange, tattooed person and finding my little sister again behind her navy nail polish and loops of gold chains.

This has not happened.

First, her colleague D found himself unexpectedly homeless for the weekend, so he ended up on our floor. Then, "for the sake of journalism" B had to attend random all-night parties with Pitchfork band members, so she has left the house early each morning and returned home around 2am, by which time F and I, fuddy-duddies that we are, have already been asleep for approximately five hours.

Since Thursday, our apartment has been overrun with suitcases, bedding, and boxes of magazines. I could not help feeling put-out and put-upon as I handed over my house keys and told B to have a good time at the second late-night party in two days. Our robust, OCD cat Barry kept me up all weekend because he doesn't like when strangers invade his living-room, and I spent yesterday in the waiting room of Marvin's auto repair while the car's electrical grid was re-wired--only to have it die again at 9:30 (half an hour past my bedtime!), just as I squeezed between two mac trucks in Pitchfork's VIP parking section.

As I waited for B and her colleagues, a man toting a cart of kegs yelled at me for parking the defunct jeep in front of his mac truck. So, running on little sleep and a lot of stress, I wallowed in self-pity and looked forward to this evening, when I would have the apartment to myself.

B and F will be at Pitchfork until 10 tonight. So far, I rented two movies, bought a parsley plant, visited the grocery store, and put in a load of laundry. Now begins the relaxation. I exchanged one of F's punk CDs for Like a Virgin and whipped up some banana bread.
Note my new parsley plant and the requisite whiskey bottle among my banana bread clutter.

After such a hectic weekend--before the start of an even more hectic week--I thought I would be relieved to have the apartment to myself for a little while. But as the apartment throbs to the first unmistakable beats of "Material Girl," I can't help wishing B were here so we could dance together in our pajamas, once more with abandon.

At least she'll have some banana bread to take with her on the plane.


Mom’s Banana Bread
From Cooking Light, November 1996

Yield
4 loaves, 4 servings per loaf (serving size: 1 slice)

Ingredients
* 1 cup sugar
* 1/4 cup light butter, softened
* 1 2/3 cups mashed ripe banana (about 3 bananas)
* 1/4 cup skim milk
* 1/4 cup low-fat sour cream
* 2 large egg whites
* 2 cups all-purpose flour
* 1 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* Cooking spray

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350°.

Combine sugar and butter in a bowl; beat at medium speed of a mixer until well-blended. Add banana, milk, sour cream, and egg whites; beat well, and set aside.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt; stir well. Add dry ingredients to creamed mixture, beating until blended.

Spoon batter into 4 (5 x 2 1/2-inch) miniature loaf pans coated with cooking spray. Bake at 350° for 45 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Let cool in pans 10 minutes on a wire rack; remove from pans. Let cool completely on wire racks.

Note: To make one 9-inch loaf, spoon batter into a 9 x 5-inch loaf pan coated with cooking spray; bake at 350º for 1 hour and 10 minutes. Yield: 1 loaf, 20 servings (serving size: 1 slice).

Soup of the Week

This is my new favorite soup:

Creamy Carrot Soup
From the March issue of Cooking Light
4 servings (serving size: 1 1/2 cups)

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 3/4 cups chopped Vidalia or other sweet onion
• 2 pounds carrots, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Dash of ground ginger
• 2 cups water
• 2 cups fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth
• 2 tablespoons heavy cream, divided

1. Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and carrots to pan; cook 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Stir in salt, pepper, and ginger.

2. Add 2 cups water and broth to pan; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 25 minutes or until carrots are tender. Remove from heat; cool. 3. Place half of carrot mixture and 1 tablespoon cream in a food processor or blender; process 20 seconds or until smooth. Pour pureed mixture into a large bowl. Repeat procedure with remaining carrot mixture and 1 tablespoon cream. Return mixture to pan; cook over medium heat until thoroughly heated.

And here it is! I wish I had a sprig of parsley or mint to finish it off, since the jaunty little herb really makes the photo on the Cooking Light website. I promise it tastes far better than it looks below! As we have already established, the whole point of having soup for lunch is for an excuse to eat a big chunk of bread. So I spent Sunday making Buttermilk-Oat Rolls. These taste strangely like croissants—a good thing.
All in all, a far more satisfying (and colorful) cubicle meal than a Lean Cuisine.

Sundays in the Kitchen

12:00noon
My husband F says I can't relax. But I think he and I just relax differently. While he is able to sit in one place for hours and read or watch football, I like to wander the city, poking in shops and stopping in coffeehouses. While he is able to sleep in on Sundays, I like to get up early so my weekend lasts longer. While he is happy spending a whole day inside with the kitties, I go stir-crazy and start cleaning or cooking or organizing my books.

Today is Sunday and I've been relaxing in the kitchen since 9am. So far, I have relaxed by making Buttermilk Oatmeal Pancakes, Prosciutto and Gruyère Pinwheels, and Curried Squash-and-Pear Bisque. Still ahead: Apple Puff Pastry Tart and a loaf of Cranberry Quickbread with Raisins and Hazelnuts.

What could be more relaxing than a Sunday in the kitchen? I've spent the whole day in my pajamas, as you can see in the photo above. I added the apron just for effect; my flannel pants are already dusted with flour and Gruyère. Despite the title of this blog, what you see there is my preferred kitchen attire, wool socks and all.

I've dedicated this Sunday to cooking for a number of reasons. Firstly, it's Soup and Bread Day. Every Sunday for the last few months, I have made a big pot of soup and a loaf of bread that I bring to work for lunch all week. The soup is really just an excuse to have a big hunk of bread, so the two recipes don't necessarily have to go together. So far, I have made banana bread, carrot cornbread, almond cornbread, cranberry-hazelnut bread, harvest bread, apple-rosemary bread, whole-wheat raisin bread and sage dinner rolls. Today is bisque and quickbread day.

Tonight is also my monthly supper club dinner, and we are making a puff pastry feast. The main course is Beef Wellington and I am bringing one of the sides: Prosciutto and Gruyère Pinwheels, a recipe from Gourmet:

Prosciutto and Gruyère Pinwheels
Yield: Makes about 40 Pinwheels
3/4 cup finely grated Gruyère (about 3 ounces)
4 teaspoons chopped fresh sage leaves
1 puff pastry sheet (from one 17 3/4-ounce package frozen puff pastry sheets) thawed
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto

I decided to halve the recipe, since I doubt that eight girls, no matter how much they love food, will be able to eat 40 pinwheels on top of two other sides, the Wellington, and two puff desserts. And I don't want leftovers floating around the house, since I would eat them all.

My relaxing Sunday in the kitchen began, as usual, when F and I woke up around 9:00. I got breakfast started while he went down the street for coffee. This morning, I made Oatmeal Buttermilk Pancakes from Cooking Light for F and plain oatmeal for myself (I will be feasting on puff pastry this evening, after all). After breakfast, I started on the Pinwheels.

The puff pastry needed to thaw for 40 minutes, so I laid it to rest on the counter while I prepared the rest of the ingredients:
Grated the cheese and chopped the sage:
After 40 minutes had passed, I placed the pastry sheet on a lightly floured surface with the long edge facing me.Then brushed lightly beaten egg across the top inch of the sheet and added a thin layer of prosciutto, leaving the eggy inch free.
And sprinkled the cheese and sage over the prosciutto.Then, starting with the non-eggy side, rolled the pastry sheet into a log, wrapped it in parchment paper, and placed it (seam-side down) in the fridge to chill for three hours.1:00pm
Since I only made half of the Pinwheels recipe, and the pastry dough package warns against refreezing the dough once it has been thawed, I decided to make a dessert for F (I often make him desserts, so I can enjoy them vicariously). A quick search on Epicurious.com led to a recipe for an apple tart from Bon Appetit. I halved the recipe, so my tart was more of a breakfast pastry than a full dessert tart.

First, I brushed an inch of each side with lightly beaten egg and folded the sides to make a raised edge. Then, I made 1/2-inch-long cuts spaced a 1/2-inch apart all around pastry edge and scored the center with short strokes.
Technically, the recipe says to spread apricot preserves over the center of the pastry. As this was a last-minute recipe and I didn't have apricot preserves, I threw caution to the wind and used orange marmalade, chunks and all. Next, I arranged the apple slices over the marmalade. Since I didn't have a Golden Delicious apple, I used the Braeburn apple I had on hand, feeling very Top Chef-like in my resourcefulness. The recipe calls for the apples to be arranged "in 3 rows, overlapping apples and fitting tightly together." There didn't seem to be enough space in this little pastry for three rows of apples, even if they were overlapping, so I just made up my own pattern, below. Lastly, I brushed each edge with egg, and sprinkled cinnamon and sugar over the entire thing. Then into the oven to bake for 30 minutes. While the tart was in the oven, I puréed the Curried Squash-and-Pear Bisque from Cooking Light that had been simmering on the stove for the last hour. F was a good sport and waited patiently for his lunch while I artfully arranged the soup and French bread and took a half-dozen photos, shifting everything this way and that until I achieved the desired effect.
I love this soup. It's thick and creamy and sweet, and very filling. It's the best recipe I have found so far in my ongoing experimentation with cubicle lunch soups (see the previous post about the vastly disappointing parsnip soup, also from Cooking Light). And it's a pretty color, which definitely counts for something. A few weeks ago I tried a Pacific-brand mushroom soup that tasted fine, but was a milky gray that gave my co-workers pause when they entered my cubicle. It's never a good sign when people gasp in horror at your lunch.

By the time F and I finished lunch, the apple tart was baked to a golden brown. The crust was flaky and the center was bubbling and steaming.

Poor F. His face fell when I gently took his dessert from his hands before he could take a bite and ruin the aesthetic. Again, he waited patiently while I arranged the tart on a variety of plates on two different tablecloths and took a dozen photographs. It was worth the wait. F proclaimed this tart better than the shrink-wrapped apple strudel from 7-Eleven. High praise, indeed! I took a little bite in the interest of journalism, and it was pretty delicious. The marmalade ended up being a great substitution for the apricot; the citrus added a nice twist to the tart apple.2:00pm
My Pinwheel log was still chilling, and now that I had the bisque for my lunches, it was time for the bread. My current favorite is Cooking Light Cranberry Quickbread with Raisins and Hazelnuts. It's moist and dense, and the hazelnuts add a distinctive richness. Below: the flour mix, the wet mix, the golden raisins, chopped cranberries, and hazelnuts, all ready to go.
And as if by magic, the loaf fresh from the oven:3:30pm
At last, it's time to bake the Pinwheels. I cut the log into 1/2-inch slices and set them 1 inch apart on a baking sheet.
After 15 minutes in the oven, here is how they came out:
They didn't really puff, but I'd like to think that's a minor detail. The sage really makes this recipe. It threatens to overwhelm the Gruyère, but only just, so the effect is a sweep of earthy sage followed by the subtler flavors of salty prosciutto and sweet, nutty Gruyère. The pastry soaks up most of the cheese, so the outside is crispy and flaky while the inside inside is soft and a little chewy. Next time, I might take these out of the oven just a minute or two sooner, but all in all, this delicious two-bite hors d'oeuvre was a successful first venture into the realm of puff.

9:15pm
The Pinwheels were well received this evening. They were devoured within ten minutes, followed by a second hors d'ouevre of Spinach and Parmesan Puff Pastry Cups, the main course of Beef Wellington with a side of Asparagus Puff Pastry Torte, and two desserts: Puff Pastry Cookies so dense with butter they were more like shortbread (with accompanying homemade whipped cream), and Banana-Rum Napoleon with homemade whipped cream and caramel sauce. And now I'm off to lie in bed with my belly in the air.

That is what I call a relaxing Sunday!