Later alligator

Well this is it.

In a few days I head off to San Francisco for pastry school. I'm nervous and excited. I'm wondering what I've gotten myself into, knowing that nothing else would make me as happy and excited and hopeful about my future as this adventure.

My sister kindly pointed out today that she still will be deeply mired in her internship when I return. So, in fact, I won't be gone as long as I think. This was a relief to me. When I return it will be my favorite time of year here. So different from right now. The weather will be hot, yet not unbearable. My tomatoes will be begging to be harvested. I plan on many many hot nights on patios drinking sangrias.

In the meantime there is so very much to look forward to... I just have to get past that pesky plane ride. I just cross my fingers that I avoid travel pitfalls from my past, such as the unfortunate people I've met (the gas bag and the Romanian lover, to name a few), the night I literally flew around the United States in our pilot's futile effort to avoid horrible storms and the litany of times my luggage has been lost. I just have to get past that little roadblock.



On the other side of that I hope for meeting lots of new friends, weekend dinner parties, sourdough croissants, yoga classes, visits from some of my very favorite people, and oh yeah. Mother. Fucking. Pastry. School.

On the precipice of this grand adventure I'm left at a loss for words. I'll be blogging regularly, but regularly might become weekly rather than bi-weekly. I hope to cook as much as possible. I'm finally going to delve into that bookmarked folder of recipes I seem to add to almost daily. However, I assume impromptu meals will abound, so who knows what I'll be bringing to you.

In the spirit of me hitting the road, I'm presenting you with a recipe inspired solely by my need to clean out the pantry before leaving. Over Thanksgiving, my mother and I, not surprisingly, failed to communicate about who was buying the ingredients for the parts of the meal I was making. That being said, we both bought them. Plenty of apples, pumpkin, cabbage, flour, butter, sugar... you name it. Somehow we managed to cook our way through all of it. All of it but that darned canned pumpkin.



That pumpkin was like a thorn in my side, me who cannot waste an ounce of food. Every time I opened the cabinets it was there staring back it me, in it's less than appealing canned state. There was nothing enticing about it. Finally, though, it was time, finally I had to break down and use that smushy gushy orange stuff.

I decided on a pumpkin bread because at the least I can commit to eating a slice for breakfast every day and actually feel quite sated. I've never craved pumpkin bread, I've never thought too much of it at all in fact. However, there is a certain tea bread recipe that I am absolutely smitten with. It's the kind of recipe that makes you wonder how all of the other tea bread recipes got it so wrong, because this one is so right. The original recipe calls for zucchini, but I figured I could sub in pumpkin in a heartbeat. I tossed in some apples too, for texture, and voila. Easily the best pumpkin bread I've ever had. Give her a whirl, I think you'll be very pleased.

In the meantime I'm off to pack and make last minute lists and just all around fret... because I'm quite skilled at that. I'll see you on the other side of the states, hopefully very soon!

Very Special Pumpkin Bread
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks

1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
1/3 cup poppy seeds
zest of one lemon
1/2 cup crystallized ginger, finely chopped
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar, lightly packed
1/2 cup honey
3 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups canned pumpkin
1 1/2 cups diced fuji apples
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 Tbsp plus 1 tsp ras el hanout

Preheat your oven to 350°F. Butter the two loaf pans, dust them with a bit of flour and set aside.

In a small bowl combine the walnuts, poppy seeds, lemon zest, apples, and ginger. Set aside.

In a mixer, beat the butter until fluffy. Add the sugars and honey and beat again until mixture comes together and is no longer crumbly. Add the eggs one at a time mixing well and scraping down the sides of the bowl between each addition. Stir in the vanilla and then the pumpkin (low speed if you are using a mixer).

In a separate bowl, combine the whole wheat pastry flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and curry powder. Add these dry ingredients to the wet ingredients in two batches, stirring between each addition.

By hand, fold in the walnut, poppy seed, lemon zest, apple, and crystallized ginger mixture. Save a bit of this to sprinkle on the tops of the zucchini loaves before baking for a bit of texture. Avoid over mixing the batter, it should be thick and moist, not unlike a butter cream frosting.

Divide the batter equally between the two loaf pans. Make sure it is level in the pans, by running a spatula over the top of each loaf. Bake for about 40-45 minutes on a middle oven rack. Remove from the oven and cool the breads in pan for about ten minutes. Turn out onto wire racks to finish cooling - if you leave them in their pans, they will get sweaty and moist (not in a good way) as they cool.

DIY Spice

Peppers growing in the garden hold poignant and somewhat painful memories for me. It's unfortunate really, being that one of the few things that loves to grow in a Texas summer is the pepper.

I blame it all on Axl Rose. I, like many a seventh grader in the late '80's, lived and died by Appetite for Destruction. My best friend and I carefully transcribed every word to every song on that record. I am not exaggerating in the least when I say that to this day I can sing every word of every song, from Mr. Brownstone to the ubiquitous Sweet Child O' Mine. We'd carry a walkman around with us, with the little "Y" connection, so we could each have our own set of headphones and listen to it together. We took that tape from our class trip to DC to our summer camp on a lake out in the Texas hill country. And we thought we were total badasses.



Despite being such a badass and freely being allowed to listen to Guns 'n Roses, watching them on MTV was deemed far too risky and dangerous behavior for a girl my age. Now I'm not sure I can find a good reason why watching the Welcome to the Jungle video would have been beneficial to me as a pre-teen. However, I'm just saying, learning what the lyrics meant to all of the Guns 'n Roses songs was, no doubt, a far greater risk to a girl of twelve than watching Axl prance around the stage in white leggings and a carefully coordinated white leather jacket. I'm just saying.

Nonetheless, my mother was no friend of MTV and she was not going to let it poison the mind of her eldest daughter (my little sister, on the other hand, got access to everything I was denied... the painful truth of being the firstborn).

It was a chilly Saturday morning and I had settled onto the couch with my bowl of cheerios anxiously awaiting the promised airing of the Paradise City video on MTV. In the background I heard the muffled shouts of mother yelling for me to turn off MTV. The shouts turned to threats and still I ignored them, hoping for my one brief glimpse of Axl and Slash, knowing any punishment would be worth it. And knowing I'd never been punished in my life as far as I could remember. So how bad could it be?

Seconds after the video came on my mother stormed into the room and turned the TV off. Apparently this time was different, apparently she did have a punishment for me. Apparently this time she meant business.

Had I known what was coming I may not have been so quick to watch Paradise City, which was surely, in my Guns 'n Roses obsessed opinion, the lamest Guns 'n Roses song of all time. I stand by that statement today. Had I known how absolutely disgusting and cruel my punishment would be, I could have passed on my morning Axl Rose fix.

Now some kids get grounded. Some kids lose phone privileges. Some kids are even docked allowance. Not me. I was marched out to the garden and handed a paper bag. It became apparent that my task was to fill that bag with the remnants of the summer garden. At this point it was no earlier than October. Summer's furious heat had already borne down upon the garden turning it into a brittle brown mess of sticks. Everything but the peppers. The pepper plants too were dried and dead. However, they still were heavy with fruit. Apparently no one took it upon themselves to harvest the peppers when they were ripe, instead leaving them on the vine to turn from green to red and from red to... redder.



My task was to pull these plants up and stuff them into the bag. Despite my extreme annoyance in doing anything that my mom considered "fun", I determined this wasn't such a bad punishment. I'd soon be back in the TV room, sneaking my MTV. Well, it was no more than five minutes into pulling the pepper plants that I realized why this job was in fact punishment. The peppers had not in fact dried to brilliant red husks on the vine. No no no no. The peppers had rotted on the vine, each red skin held a stinking pudding of horrible red slime. Within minutes I was wearing this slime and gagging on the horrendous stench. It was, quite simply, appalling.

So no, peppers in the garden were never something I longed for. I can still smell the rotten stink of them today when I picture that Paradise City video. Although, like I said, it's just as well because I don't care for the song and the video is actually pretty dull.

Last summer, though, I was stocking my garden and stumbled across a plant I'd never thought to grow. I came across a paprika pepper plant. How exotic! As a Hungarian I feel I should be better acquainted with the plant, but due to the watered down powdered specimens available for sale here I've never been sold on the stuff. This was an opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.

Well, like I said, peppers love life down here in Texas and those peppers grew beautifully. I must have harvested about forty from the plant, a feat considering the massive drought we're in. I diligently dried all of them on my front porch and left them sitting in a basket in my kitchen until this weekend. As I poked through my weekend to-do list I remembered the paprika peppers and realized I should probably grind those up and store them before heading off to California.



I popped their stems off, emptied them of most of their seeds and stuffed them in my spice grinder. Ten minutes and I had a heaping pile of gloriously red-orange paprika. Not only was it the most gorgeous color, it was heavenly to smell. It was intensely paprika-y and extremely spicy. I touched it and made the mistake of wiping my face and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to wipe the orange stain from my cheek.

No, I don't have a recipe for you today, but I do have a challenge. Grow your own spices! Okay, fair enough, it's not that simple to set up a spice garden in your backyard. But it's so very very easy to grow peppers. Once you pick them you can dry them in the sun or you can smoke them for a more Spanish version. I'm just sorry I have to wait four months to experiment with my paprika which is stashed away in my freezer. I'll just have to be sure to use those four months to dream all of the ways I can use up all of that spicy paprika.

I've been bad

As the time draws near for me to depart I'm struck by the sudden and deafening urge to ease my nerves in the least practical way. Shopping. Actually, to be more specific, just spending money. It matters very little what I acquire in the exchange of cash, it just matters that I hand my hard earned money over bit by bit by bit.

I have trinkets aplenty to show for the mass exodus of cash out of my savings account. I have lip gloss. A notebook. Some stationary? Why not. More makeup. A headband. Three scarves. A bag of peanut butter-filled pretzels. Bottles of wine. A tiny painting of a landscape. Extravagant dinners out. One very unnecessary mocha smoothie. More wine. Always more wine. One yet to be delivered cookbook. Yoga outfit(s). A robe. A nightgown. Oh, and one pair of very over-priced striped wool socks.

And all this as I tell Mark we're on a budget. We're saving, can't you see?



I guess I should feel guilty and I suppose I should try harder to ease my nerves in other more practical and spendthrift-ish ways... but when running four miles doesn't knock the ache out of your chest you maybe, just maybe, reach for pretty stationary and painting. Or I do anyway.

Due to this need to set my pennies free, I've been bad lately. Or a bad cook at any rate. I did make some chocolate chip cookies the other day, to squash the butterflies. But aside from that there's been very little eating at home. This is a damn shame because finally my winter garden has come into its own and is spreading its bounty across the backyard. But that's free and where's the fun that?



I did manage to make one glorious and gorgeous from the garden meal the other night. And let's be honest, the only reason I did was because I wanted gruyere for dinner and since there was no gruyere in the house I got to pop off to the store and buy some.

It was so yummy and seasonal I wanted to share it here... and I will! However, the photos I have here may lead you astray. No, this dish was not in fact a bowl of plain jane polenta and greens. It was, in fact, a steamy creamy bowl of polenta, bolstered by the distinct winter-y flavor of gruyere, topped with garlic and greens (in that order) and dressed with a veritable bounty of roasted winter vegetables. That is what I wish I could have photographed. Due to the (fortunate) deliciousness of the vegetables I was forced (forced I tell you!) to consume each and every one of them the night I made them. With the greens and polenta of course... but still. I was so greedy I couldn't even save a few to photograph. Now if that doesn't speak volumes about why you should try this then I don't know what will.



I used the vegetables I had in my backyard, so it's not a science. I will recommend, however, if you can get your hands on some kohlrabi, by all means add it to this dish. It roasts up so beautifully, lightly sweet and delicate. You can even eat the greens. They require a bit more cooking than the average green due to their sturdiness, but they turn out perfectly.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to check my wishlist on Amazon, run to the grocery store for cat food and plan where we'll eat dinner this evening. I figure it, if you can't beat it join it, so I'll just go ahead and welcome my retail therapy with open arms and shrinking savings.

Polenta with Greens and Roasted Vegetables

For the polenta
1 cup cornmeal
3/4 tsp salt
3-4 cups water (or vegetable stock - if using stock, omit salt)
2 cups grated gruyere

For the greens
4-5 cups assorted greens, sliced into ribbons (I used kohlrabi greens, swiss chard and turnip greens)
6-7 cloves garlic, crushed
olive oil

For the vegetables
3-4 cups assorted chopped winter vegetables, such as carrots, turnips, kohlrabi, cauliflower, squash
olive oil, salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss chopped winter vegetables in olive oil, salt and pepper. Put vegetables in one even layer in a roasting pan and roast for anywhere from 30 mins to 1 hour. All vegetables should be soft through.

In the meantime, bring the water or stock to a boil in a saucepan. Add the salt, if using. Add the cornmeal in a thin stream and whisk as you do so so clumps don't form. Lower the heat and cook on low for about 30-45 mins. If the polenta seizes up just add more very hot water or stock and whisk to loosen it up. Once you turn off the heat stir in the gruyere. If you want to make it even creamier add a few tablespoons of butter.

To make the greens, heat about 2 Tbsp olive oil in a skillet. Once hot add the greens and toss until all wilted. At this point add the garlic. Stir and toss. Take it off the heat once the garlic turned a light golden color. Season with salt (and some cayenne pepper if you like a little kick).

To serve, put polenta in a bowl, top with greens and roasted vegetables.

Seeing green

I woke up this morning feeling blah. This feeling is completely unjustified being that

A - It's 70 degrees, sunny and mind-blowingly blissful outside.
B - I spent yesterday evening at a clothes swap and am now the proud owner of several fantastic new party dresses and one amazing little skirt.
C - I have another party to go to tonight that I've been looking forward to for at least an entire 24 hours, perhaps even 48.
D - I have the entire second season of the Tudors sitting next to my TV to help me kill time until said party.

See? My bothersome mood is downright ludicrous.



I'm not the type to comfort eat. In fact, I tend to comfort starve... oh wait, that came out wrong. What I mean is when I'm in a crappy mood, food is the furthest thing from my mind. Judging by the amount I eat it seems I'm a fairly content person. Nonetheless, I decided this morning that I'm going to treat myself to an all-out junk food indulgence for lunch to lift my saggy spirits. Ideas I have are (but are not limited to)... vegetable sandwich from Wheatsville, gingered tempeh pasta salad from Wheatsville, tempeh tacos (yeah, from Wheatsville), a steamed vegetable plate from Mother's or Taco Bell. Woah, I really lack talent in the brainstorming junk food department.

You could argue Taco Bell is junk food in the worstest of worst ways (Please spare me your opinions on it. It's gross. I know. I love it. The end.), however, I'd argue right back that there's really nothing that offensive in a Seven Layer burrito, unless you have an aversion to fake guacamole and reconstituted beans. Gross sounding? Yes. Super junk food-y? Not so much.



The other places I mentioned? No, I am not in fact an old hippie. I just really really really like vegetables. A lot. More than chocolate. Seriously.

The real problem with me brainstorming junk food is two-fold. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, I love food. I'm pretty sure people who truly truly love food don't find the appeal in junk food. Eating junk food leaves me with the same feeling that I imagine men have leaving a strip club... empty, alone and just a little bit greasy. Do I offend? I apologize, but that's how I see it.

Secondly, and far more immediate than my passion for edibles, is my obsession with dill. Dill!! I said it! I love you dill and you're clouding my mind with your grassy fresh dill-y yumminess. Dill is a bright beacon of fresh springiness in the winter, like crocuses popping out of the snow. Dill sings while everything else slumbers. I do love it so.

It sounds so sad really, I can't dream up a junky lunch because the thought of the dill in my refrigerator has driven to distraction. I can smell it, I can taste it. It's invading the recesses of of senses. I bought a bunch of dill last week at the farmer's market that was quite easily the size of a small head of romaine lettuce. It was, by any standard, way too much dill. The first thing I did was head straight home to start a dill bread. Just like that.



That was followed with egg salad pumped full of dill, made into sandwiches with that very dill bread. Shortly thereafter there was a roasted vegetable, greens and cream cheese sandwich, again on the dill bread. That one was so good I might even make it again this week. Well, that's where it all putters to a halt. I've got eater's block and know not what else to do with the poor abundance of dill wasting away in the fridge. I pondered borsch, but I just powered my way through a huge pot of that a few weeks ago. I found an asparagus, potato and dill soup recipe, but asparagus isn't quite yet in season. I'm now contemplating some sort of dill dip to eat with all of the veggies from my garden. That thought bores me to tears. Any ideas? I'm almost out of dill bread, and the dill in the fridge will only last a few more days, if that. It would a tiny tragedy to throw away that much dill.

I'll wait and hope and cross my fingers for your suggestions. In the meantime, I'm off to one of several old hippie establishments for junk food, if you will. I'll leave you with my dill bread recipe. This dill bread is different from most other dill breads I've tried because it balances out the flavors of the wheat with that of the dill. It turned out just the way I hoped it would - a really delicious and substantial bread, not at all like the other dill breads I've had. It's definitely best toasted, sandwiching together something yummy... Might I suggest egg salad or roasted veggies and cream cheese?

Potato Dill Bread
Adapted from The Bread Baker's Apprentice by Peter Reinhardt

For Biga
5.625 oz (1 1/4 cups) bread flour
1/4 tsp instant yeast
3/8 cup plus 1 Tbsp to 1/2 cup water, at room temperature

Stir together the flour and yeast. Add 3/8 cup plus 1 Tbsp of the water, stirring until everything comes together and makes a coarse ball. Adjust the flour or water, according to need, so that the dough is neither too sticky nor too stiff. It is better to err on the sticky side, as you can adjust easier during kneading.

Knead for 4 to 6 minutes, or until the dough is soft and pliable, tacky but not sticky.

Place the dough in a lidded container and let ferment at room temperature for 2 to 4 hours, or until it nearly doubles in size.

Remove the dough from the bowl, knead it lightly to degas, and return it to the bowl, covering it again. Place the bowl in the refrigerator overnight. You can keep this in the refrigerator for up to 3 days, or freeze it in an airtight plastic bag for up to 3 months.

For the final dough
Biga
14 oz (3 cups plus 2 Tbsp) bread flour
.38 oz (1 1/2 tsp) salt
1 1/4 tsp instant yeast
6 oz (1 cup) mashed potatoes (without the skins)
1 Tbsp milk
5 Tbsp coarsely chopped fresh dill
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons to 1 cup water, at room temperature (or warm if the potatoes are cold)

Remove the biga from the refrigerator 1 hour before you plan to make the bread. Cut it into about 10 small pieces with a pastry scraper or serrated knife. Cover with a towel or plastic wrap and let sit for 1 hour to take off the chill.

Stir together the flour, salt and yeast. Add the biga pieces, mashed potatoes, milk, dill, and 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons water. Stir together to combine for about 1 min, or until the ingredients form a ball. Add more water, if necessary, or more flour, if the dough is too sticky.

If kneading by hand sprinkle flour on the counter, transfer the dough to the counter, and begin to knead (or mix on medium speed with the dough hook). Knead for approximately 10 minutes (or 6 minutes by machine), until the dough is soft and supple, tacky but not sticky. It should pass the windowpane test. Lightly oil a large lidded container and transfer the dough to the bowl. Cover the bowl.

Ferment at room temperature for approximately 2 hours, or until the dough doubles in size.

Remove the dough from the bowl and divide it into 2 equal pieces for loaves. Shape each of the larger pieces into a boule. Line a sheet pan with baking parchment. Place the dough on the parchment, separating the pieces so that they will not touch, even after they rise. Mist the dough with spray oil and cover loosely with plastic wrap.

Proof at room temperature for 1 to 2 hours, or until the dough doubles in size and springs back slowly when pressed.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F with your oven set up for steam.

Score the bread if you wish and place the pan in the oven on a baking stone and apply your desired steam method. Bake the loaves for 20 minutes, then rotate the pan 180° for even baking. Bake another 15-25 mins. The loaves will be a rich golden brown all around, and the internal temperature should register at least 195°F. The loaves should make a hollow sound when thumped on the bottom. if the loaves or rolls are fully colored but seem to soft, crack the oven door and let them bake for an additional 5 mins to firm up.

Remove the finished loaves or rolls from the oven and cool on a rack for at least 1 hour.

You can see this bread and other gorgeous breads at Yeastspotting!

Busy busy bee

I am beyond distraction lately. It's all due to wrapping my head around a short move, trying to cram an ever-expanding to-do list into my daily routine, training my replacement at work and trying to act like everything is normal and I'm not actually beyond distraction.



All of this distraction isn't such a bad thing. I've done desperately needed chores such as finally taking the pesky little Tiny Tim to the vet for his necessary shots and surgery. We're not sure, but we're hoping that decreasing his testosterone levels will discourage him from appearing at the very top of our screen door meowing loudly for attention. You would think he was at the very brink of death, you would think he was being drawn and quartered in our backyard, you would think he was being eaten alive. I kid, I kid. But he does have what some might call quite the personality. Let me tell you, it's frightening to hear a thud against the house and realize this cat has flung himself yet again onto a window screen, clinging to it for dear life. All the while, our two cats are inside meowing loudly and batting at the windows. It can make one think they're hearing voices. Fortunately the voices have yet to lead me to kitty homicide. I do love our little Tiny Tim, I just wish he were a little easier to love is all. So there you have it, Distraction 1, Tiny Tim 0. We hope it's a good thing for the little guy.

It's also a good thing that I'm leaving my job. My job has been very very good to me. It's been patient as I've almost literally wandered to the ends of the earth and back, chasing whatever came into the horizon. I'm over the moon and beyond thrilled to pass my job on to someone... and not just any someone either, but a very good friend who will be good to the job (and I promised him the job would return the favor and be good right back). But I've got to say, training someone is exhausting! I've clearly lost my grasp on the English language. I mutter and point, trying to convey frenzied ideas on such expansive topics as invoicing and international tax treaties. I've realized I never really did have the proper vocabulary to discuss financial matters, and thankfully no one asked... until now. So I look forward to leaving and look forward to the time I'm no longer stretching to find such mundane words as debit and reconcile. I look forward to moving forward.



Acting like I'm not so terribly distracted has only deepened my distraction. I used to love (please don't hate me) love love cleaning the kitchen. It just happens to be my favorite room with my favorite things in it, and if I get hungry snacks are very very close at hand. Snacks are extremely important to me. My biggest fear about the GRE was, will I get hungry while taking the test?? Yes, I brought a bag full of snacks to the testing center and yes, I was reprimanded for eating them inside. But see, there, it happened again - I became distracted! What was I saying, oh yeah. Let's just say the kitchen needs a lotta lotta TLC. And another thing, I have only been to the grocery store once a week for the last few weeks. That's not just out of the ordinary for me. That's down right weird. And no one likes to be weird, so I'm planning a mid-week grocery store trip for tomorrow, just to feel like me again.

But you want to know the worst thing about my distraction? It made me so distracted that it wasn't until Monday that I mailed off my second to last Christmas package (if you're following at home, that means I have one more Christmas package to go, and I might just let it slide at this point). It was a package of cookies that I baked just the other day. After an entire month of baking I mustered up the energy to make just one more batch of cookies.



To tell the truth it wasn't that hard to pull myself together to make these cookies. I love them, everything about them. I love their buttery honey-laced scent. I love how you can just detect a hint of nutmeg while they bake. I love how subtly sweet the cookies are. The honey and nuts linger in the background letting the pastry make a statement.

So am I sorry I was too distracted to send these at Christmas-time? Not really. It's just as well with me if my house smells of butter and honey year round. And it's just as well with me to surprise my friends throughout the year with gifties. Now who's going to complain about that??

Rugelach
Adapted from Rose Bakery by Rose Carrarini

For the pastry
150 gr (2/3 cup) unsalted butter, softened
150 gr (2/3 cup) cream cheese
1 Tbsp sugar
1/8 tsp salt
220 gr (1 1/2 cups) all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten together with a pinch of salt

For the filling
3-4 Tbsp very mild raw honey
50 gr (1/2 cup) toasted pistachios
50 gr (1/2 cup) toasted walnuts
1/2 - 1 tsp cinnamon
1-2 tsp nutmeg
50 gr (1/4 cup) sugar

Make the dough first because it has to chill. But the butter and cream cheese together till smooth and light. Add sugar and salt, then add the flour. Mix until the dough comes together, don't overwork it.

Pat the dough together into a disk and wrap in plastic. Chill for at least 2 hours.

To prepare the filling, chop walnuts and pistachios. Mix with sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Add spice to taste. The nuts and sugar should be very very fragrant with nutmeg.

On a lightly floured surface roll out the dough into a rectangle about 1/4 inch thick.

Spread the honey on the dough and sprinkle with the filling. Press the filling into the honey. Roll the dough on the short edges to form a log with at least three turns in it.

Wrap it in plastic and chill for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Cut the log into 3/4 inch thick slices. Lay the slices on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Brush them with beaten egg and sprinkle generously with sugar.

Bake for 20-30 mins, until golden, making sure the undersides don't burn.

The books, oh, the cookbooks!

I'm mulling over my cookbooks. I think I will have to leave them all behind when I head West, but I'm creating every excuse not to. I'm comforting myself with reassurances that every recipe I could ever want is online. And quite frankly, I'm not sure that I'll have the energy to cook much while I'm there.



These, though, are not reassurances. The internet can never, in my eyes, stand in for a book. Cookbooks are far more than a compendium of recipes with lovely photos and a few blurbs of text. A good cookbook, like any good book, transcends any smattering of information you can gather from here and there. A good cookbook transports you. I want my cookbooks not just to entertain me, but to inform me. To me food is far more than a sum of its parts. Food tells a story of the movements of civilizations. It reflects the opening of trade routes, the fighting of wars, migrations, subjugations and even the destruction of cultures, all of which are reflected in the food we eat.

Okay, fair enough, cookbooks are also about the ingenuity and pure craft of food. And hopefully yummy food, at that. I love those books too, don't get me wrong. Those books, however, are not the books I've been thumbing through for the past few days, whispering sweet nothings into their pages, wondering how I'll possibly live without them for a few days beyond four months. The books I'm going to miss are the storybooks about food, the books that are far too bulky to justify a cross-country trip.



Today the book I'm misty-eyed over is A Mediterranean Feast by Clifford Wright. It's big, over 800 pages big. And it's filled with information, no matter which way you approach it. It's not just a recipe book, although there about 500 and then some recipes in all. It's also a history book. It tells the story of all of the foods that we consider to be Mediterranean. It talks about how foods we call Mediterranean are not originally from the region at all. It is only after many hundreds of year of trade and conquest (and plague!!) that these foods were brought to the Mediterranean.

And the recipes?? These are no ordinary namby pamby whip it up at the last minute sorts of meals... Some are of course, but when each turn of the page lures you into another delicious paragraph filled with stories of the evolution of cultures, well, it can take some time to choose a recipe. That's all I'm saying.



Some of the recipes are as basic and unchallenging as can be. Some of the recipes are elaborate reproductions of meals served in wealthy homes. And some are modern interpretations of classic meals. It's irrelevant. Every recipe I've tried has been dead-on unbelievably wonderful.

Two nights ago, in an effort to pay homage to my favorite few cookbooks before I must sadly tear myself away from them for a few months, I made Clifford Wright's version of Kushary. Kushary is a typical Egyptian street food whose origins are disputed, but most likely lie in India, arriving in the Middle East sometime between the 10th century and 1952. Clearly the history of food is up for hot debate. Be my guest.



I've not tried any other Kushary recipes, but I looked at about three or four before trying Wright's (and his recipes are so spot on, I don't even know why I looked elsewhere!). His just looked... punchier. His rice, pasta and lentils are more heavily flavored and the tomato sauce he uses has a kick to it which is familiar and exotic all at the same time. It's comfort food you've maybe never had, but if you're like me you'll only need to have it once before you're hooked.

My dear sweet weathered and worn cookbooks, I'll miss you so very very much, but I'll be home soon enough and waiting hungrily with baited breath until I can tear into you again (and again and again...).



Kushary
Adapted from A Mediterranean Feast by Clifford Wright

2 onions, peeled and sliced into half moons
1/2 cup brown lentils (should yield 1 cup cooked lentils)
6 1/2 cups water
2 Tbsp ghee
5 Tbsp plus 1/4 cup olive oil
2 cups long-grain rice
4 tsp salt
2 cups ditalini pasta
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 medium onion, diced
6 garlic cloves, crushed
6 oz tomato paste
2 tsp white wine vinegar
1 1/2 tsp harissa

Arrange the onion slices (the 2 onions, sliced into half moons) on some paper towels, sprinkle generously with salt, and leave for 30 mins covered with paper towels to absorb moisture.

In a large skillet, heat 1/4 cup olive oil over medium heat, then cook the diced onion (NOT the sliced half moon pieces) until translucent, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another 2 mins, stirring constantly so the garlic doesn’t burn.

Mix the tomato paste and 3 cups water and add to the onion. Reduce the heat to low while you simmer the tomato sauce for 20 minutes. Stir in the vinegar, 2 tsp salt, 1 tsp ground black pepper, and harissa and cook until denser, about another 5 minutes. Taste and add water if necessary.

Wash the lentils under running water. Put them in a medium-size heavy saucepan, add 1 1/2 cups water and 1 teaspoon of the salt, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, partially covered, until the lentils are al dente, anywhere from 20 minutes to 1 hour. You may have to check intermittently and add extra water. Drain and reserve the lentils.

In another large, heavy saucepan with a tight-fitting lid, heat 2 tsp of the ghee over medium-high heat, then cook the rice for 2 minutes, stirring continuously to coat all the grains, then add 2 cups water and 2 tsp salt. Stir and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cover while the rice cooks until the water is absorbed, 12 to 15 minutes. Do not lift the lid or stir while the rice cooks.

While the lentils and rice are cooking, prepare the onions. In a large skillet, heat 5 tbsp olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion slices and coat with the oil. Continue turning the onions as they turn from white to yellow to brown. Once they turn brown, 10 to 20 minutes, continue to cook until some turn dark brown, another 2 minutes. Remove the skillet from the burner and quickly transfer the onions to a paper towel-lined platter to cool and drain.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of abundantly salted water to a vigorous boil and add the pasta. Cook until soft and drain well.

To serve, layer, in any order, the rice, pasta and lentils. Cover in sauce to taste. Season with ground pepper and garnish with the caramelized onions.

Plans plans plans

I still have a month before I leave, but I can’t stop think about my brief and impending move to San Francisco. There are so very many plans plans plans to be made… Who will be in charge of paying the mortgage? Can Mark be trusted to plant the tomato plants I plan on sustaining us through the long, hot, salsa-filled summer? More importantly, will Mark return to his bachelor's diet of nachos and, well that’s all he ate. Nachos. While thoughts like this trouble me dusk till dawn, there are other equally important concerns…



What books to bring?? This is, of course, a fantastic problem to have. I am, quite literally, obsessed with owning books. In theory I also love to read them, but that is merely theoretical. Currently I amass books at a far greater volume than they are read. I happen to be an unexplainably slow reader. This compounded with my tendency towards distraction leads me more in the direction of newspapers and magazines. So the books gather dust on the shelves, looking pretty and making the house smell of libraries and the promise of adventure. However, for these four months I know my few hours to myself every evening will be best spent sticking my nose into books and snuggling into bed. I spent last evening thumbing through my bookshelves and pulling out some possibilities. My short list includes books on food, books about mysteries of murders, books discussing the health of the public and, of course, books I should have read but instead just own.

Next on the list of all-consuming concerns is exercise. Due to my back injury a few weeks ago I have not been running. I have not run in so very long and my back twinges so very often that I am sure I will not resume it anytime soon, and I definitely will not be running after long hours on my feet. No, instead I will do yoga. Why yoga? Several reasons:
1. It sounds relaxing therefore I will have no excuse not to go to class even when feeling lazy and stuffed to the gills with carbs.
2. It was pointed out to me that in California you can probably throw a stone and hit a yoga studio. Is this true or some strange Texan notion? I will set the record straight and report back here.
3. I get to buy new yoga clothes. Yep, I’m that shallow. Nothing can inspire me to workout like a new workout outfit.
All of this being said – any yoga studio recommendations in Oakland? Anyone?



One of the weightier issues I’m wrapping my head around is of course shopping. It’s weighty on a few fronts… I have not in fact saved for any shopping during this four month period, four months straight without a job. Four months straight of living by my meticulously crafted budget. Worrying is in my genes, and I do find this worrisome. Also worrisome and weighty is, quite literally, weight. My shopping alone last summer in San Francisco added another bag to my luggage collection and about 40 pounds to my luggage (books and food mostly). Since that trip I learned about Cookin’. I’m feeling quite sure this shop will set me back quite a few clams and leave me wondering how ever I’ll get my treasures home. I assure you, where there’s a will… well, you know. Trust me, I have the will. I just now have to throw caution to the wind and let myself be swept away by the vintage Le Crueset. That rhymes. Let it be known I have officially composed verse about Le Crueset. No doubt, I am not the first.

Another thought that just this morning occurred to me… shall I decorate? Okay, this one is a stretch because decorating had not even crossed the furthest recesses of my brain until I visited my friends Karly and Erin’s blog today, the post being all about garlands of all things! I visited the comments section, which quite often is as witty and engaging as the blog itself, only to find someone posted a photo of a garland they made for their wee baby fish. Now I’m not one to claim superiority over animals of any stripe or scale, but if a fish gets a garland, so do I! Being that I don’t actually know my roommates, short of a few quick get-to-know you phone calls, I am not expecting garlands filling my room in anticipation of my arrival. This is fine being as most people have better things to do with their time than make garlands for almost strangers. Therefore, I plan to take it upon myself to decorate my room with garlands I make for myself. Oh geez louise, now let’s add, “find time to make garland” to my ridiculously lengthy to-do list.



Finally, my list of worries of the moment culminates with the inevideble what will I eat?? I know this seems absolutely ludicrous to ponder. Whyever would my diet change due simply to a change of location? I’ll tell you why, it’s called pastry school my friends. After two weeks of bread-making classes last summer I felt downright gross. A diet of bread and pastry alone may sound like heaven on a stick, but it’s not. It’s no fun at all actually. I literally ate broth to detox every evening. Okay, it could be argued salty broth for dinner was not helping, but let’s not get off topic here. We’re talking a carb-overload of unsettling proportions. That being said, I’m planning meals packed with greens and proteins. I’ll have meals like the soup I made the other night to accompany my sourdough baguettes. It was the kind of soup you could eat and eat. The soup itself was velvety and mild. The greens added a buttery undertone, maintaining enough texture to keep your teeth happily chomping away. I made the soup to start off my San Francisco year, and now I think it might be the thing that epitomizes my San Francisco diet. If this is the case it will be quite a few tasty months indeed!

Potato Kale Soup
Adapted from Chez Panisse Vegetables

7 cups water or vegetable broth
1 ½ -2 lbs potatoes, diced
½ lb kale, shredded
4 shallots, minced
4 cloves of garlic, sliced thinly
olive oil

Combine shallots and garlic in a small sauté pan and add about ½ cup water. Drizzle with olive oil. Bring up to a low simmer and cook until vegetables are caramelized. You may need to add more water or oil as it cooks. Salt lightly.

Bring broth or heavily salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and boil for about 5 mins, until potatoes are cooked through.

Combine garlic and shallot mixture with potatoes in their broth and puree lightly. You want to keep a little texture. Return back to soup pot, bring back up to a heavy simmer and toss in the kale. Cook for a minute or so, just until the kale wilts. Taste for seasoning. You may want to add more broth at this point.

To serve, top with olive oil. This goes very well with slices of sourdough baguette that have been fried in olive oil and rubbed with garlic.

Five

Another year swept through.... Did you assume I would start today's post with some sort of musing about the passage of time, the inevitability of it all, my excitement about the new year and sadness about the passage of another? Well I guess I sort of did, but now that I think of it, I won't bore you with my sentimental blubbering. How's about I instead entertain you with some random news flashes!

News Flash Number 1:

It seems I'm a trendsetter of sorts. Who knew?? Not me, let me tell you. And definitely not anyone who knows me. I just got on Facebook. Literally, two weeks ago. See, I'm a little slow out of the gate. Despite this, I have indeed started a trend. I've inspired two people I know to start blogs. This is not to say there were not other impeti motivating them to launch their blogs. I just choose to ignore them, giving myself full credit. The first blog brought to my attention is my dear friend Julie's. Her blog documents her musings on daily life. Each post culminates with a report on whether she made her bed that day. I believe this is the point of her beginning this blog - to inspire herself to make her bed. So if you have a moment and like me, love a tidy bed, please, head over, have a read and give Julie some encouragement. She's quite hilarious, if not always so good about making her bed.



The other blog I take full and complete credit for inspiring is my sister's. She claims it was her husband who wanted her to start it. I don't buy that for a second. Her blog details her journey from, in her words, "suburbanite" to homesteader/donkey owner/dairy farmer/chicken wrangler. All in the matter of this past six months. Yes, it's true, my sister has, quite literally, headed for the hills, with three tiny cows and two ridiculously cute donkeys in tow. I'm cross my fingers that she'll get her dairy and egg operation up and running quickly (see News Flash Number 3). So please also head over to her blog with your bucketloads of encouragement.

News Flash Number 2:

I've had a stomachache for two days. Possible causes:
1. I haven't had a drink in two days, constituting post-holiday withdrawal.
2. I haven't had a cookie in two days, constituting post-holiday withdrawal.
3. Latke overdose on Thursday evening, house still smells of grease.

I think it's option three, but just in case (and so I don't have to swear off latkes = tragedy of devastating proportions), I plan on drinking and eating a cookie later today. Cross your fingers for me. I'm over this stomachache.

News Flash Number 3:

This is actually a big one. I'm going to... pastry school. I'm. Going. To. Pastry. School. !! I'll be heading to the San Francisco Baking Institute on January 31 for four months of intensive schooling. I can hardly believe it myself. Last summer while taking bread classes at SFBI, as other students diligently shaped baguette upon baguette upon baguette, I spent the greater part of the day with my face pressed against the window leading into the Professional Pastry classroom, wishing it was me beating the butter flat for the croissants. Baking bread is nothing short of amazing, but making pastries? That, too, sounds mind-blowingly wonderful and exciting. I want to do it all. And I want to be really really good at it.



I closed my clothing design business a year ago, knowing I didn't want to pursue fashion and definitely wanted to pursue food. I didn't know in quite what way though and I wanted to spend the year exploring the possibilities. A year later I'm definitely much closer to finding my place in the world of food. I want to hone my skills in baking (the original slow food, if you ask me). I want to explore the possibility of producing my own baked goods using almost exclusively local ingredients. And I want to produce food-centric events to promote local food makers. In a sense it's not a big career leap at all, my medium is just a little different.

The one not-so-tiny snag is that I have to leave life in Austin behind for four long and sad months. That means Mark, my tiny adorable kitties, my friends, my KitchenAid and my garden (which is just now about to explode!) all have to stay behind. I'm very very sad about it, but I console myself with the thought of Mark and my friends visiting, Mark crying himself to sleep every night missing me (just kidding!!), a new fantastic city to explore and love, roommates who I already know are going to be wonderful, and the food. Holy sweet baby Jesus the food. Yeah, nevermind, I take it all back. Later Austin, I'm heading to San Francisco to eat myself stupid.



News Flash Number 4:

I'm going to San Francisco!! Oh sorry, couldn't help myself.

News Flash Number 5:

You thought you were only getting newsflashes today? Nosirreeeeebob. I do indeed have a recipe for you today. I've decided I'm ready to take off the training wheels. I'm changing a regular baguette recipe into a partial sourdough baguette. It's time I womanned up and tried something with bread I've never tried before. After all, aren't I about to embark upon an adventure designed to teach me the finer points of breads, pastries and how to create my own recipes? How's about I jump the gun a little and see what I can teach myself?

It's a balmy 83 degrees here in Austin today and my sourdough starter is raging. No seriously, raging. I have a really wonderful recipe I've been using for baguettes which uses both a pate fermente and a poolish. I figure, what the hell, why not use a stiff levain in place of that pate fermente? Clearly I am a risk-taker. Watch out world.

The original recipe is for the Acme baguettes from San Francisco. However, when I ate Acme baguettes from their bakery I thought I detected a hint of sour. Not the overwhelming San Francisco variety of sour, but just a tiny nudge of sour, followed by a smooth creamy finish. Far be it from me to call the recipe I have inauthentic... I just felt like it wasn't quite what I tasted back in San Francisco. I thought I could make the recipe a wee bit (dare I say??) better.



So I doctored my levain a bit, made a poolish and this morning threw it all together to make a soft velvety dough. I'm serving it tonight with a Chez Panisse soup. I want to make a San Francisco meal to celebrate a San Francisco year... a year that I'm very excited about, a little nervous about and am so anxious to begin.

My Interpretation of Acme's Rustic Baguettes
Adapted from Artisan Baking by Maggie Glezer

For the Levain
18 gr (1 Tbsp + 1 tsp) fermented firm sourdough starter, refreshed 8 hours before
39gr (2 Tbsp + 2 tsp) water, lukewarm
30 gr (3 Tbsp) all purpose flour
30 gr (3 Tbsp) whole wheat flour

Mix all ingredients together by hand, giving them a quick knead. Place in a covered plastic container and let sit overnight, 8-12 hours, until fully risen and slightly deflated.

For the Poolish
Instant yeast **see note below**
150 gr (1 cup) all purpose flour
135 gr (2/3 cup) water, lukewarm

Combine water and flour in a plastic lidded container. **For yeast, fill a measuring cup with 1/2 cup warm water (110-115 degrees). Sprinkle with 1/4 tsp instant yeast and stir with a fork to dissolve. Let stand for 10 mins. Measure out 1 Tbsp of this mixture only and add to water flour mixture. Discard the remaining water/yeast mixture.** Stir together to form a gloppy batter-like dough. Cover and let sit for 12 hours.

For the Final Dough
340 gr (2 1/4 cups) all purpose flour
1 pinch instant yeast
184 gr (3/4 cup + 2 Tbsp + 1 tsp) water, lukewarm
Fermented poolish
Fermented levain
9 gr (1 3/4 tsp) salt

Mix the flour and yeast together in a mixing bowl. Pour the water into the poolish to loosen it up and pour that into the flour yeast mixture. Mix well to combine. Cover with plastic and let stand (autolyse) for 15-20 mins.

Break the levain into small pieces and put into autolysed dough, along with the salt. With mixer, mix to combine. Change to dough hook and knead for 10 mins on medium speed. The dough will be smooth and strong and will clean the bowl. It should not be too stiff. If it is add a teaspoon of water.

Place the dough in an oiled, lidded container 3 times the size of the dough. Fold the dough and cover. Turn the dough at three 20 minute intervals, at 20 mins, 40 mins and 60 mins. If the dough still feels loose give it one more turn at 80 mins. Let it continue to ferment, undisturbed, so that it's been in the container for a total of 4 1/2 hours.

Cut the dough into quarters. Gently round each quarter into a light batard. If you want to make a boule in addition to the baguettes instead divide the dough in half. Shape the quartered pieces into light batards and the half into a light boule and proceed as you would for a boule. Cover with plastic and let rest for 30 mins.

While the dough is resting prepare your oven for steam in your desired method. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees.

After the dough is finished resting shape it into baguettes. Shape the boules if you so desire. Cover and let proof 30-45 mins, until dough is very light and poufy. Then transfer baguettes to a floured couche and lightly pull them to the desired length. Let proof for another 60-90 mins. Dough should slowly spring back when lightly touched with your finger. Yep, that's right, it's a two-step proofing process.

Transfer proofed baguettes, using a flipping board, onto parchment paper. Make 3 angled cuts down the baguette with a lame or an impossibly sharp knife. Slide baguettes into oven, steam in your desired method and decrease oven temp immediately to 450 degrees. Bake until bread is golden brown, about 30-35 mins. If you are baking a boule, decrease oven temp to 425 degrees and bake 40-45 mins. Vent oven for last 5 mins of baking. Let loaves cool completely on a rack.

You can see this bread and other gorgeous breads at Yeastspotting!