She ain't winnin' any beauty contests, but she's the Queen

I have a favorite bread which I suppose in and of itself is not surprising at all. Maybe what may be surprising is what the bread is. It's not a big tangy sour and it's not an earthy grainy wheaty number. In fact, it's not a loaf at all. My favorite bread hands down that I think I could eat quite contentedly without interruption for the rest of my life is man'oushe.

If you know what man'oushe is and you've made it at home you're most likely in agreement with me. It's a flat bread hailing from Lebanon... well, it's pretty much pita bread baked with za'atar and olive oil on top. I'm guessing you could do this with store bought pita, but I wouldn't advise it. As per usual I recommend the hard way. Sorry folks, but homemade pita kicks regular pita's ass straight to the curb. It has an airy cloud-like texture that I've never tasted replicated by anything in a bag, not even the stuff made at our local Middle Eastern bakery. It's that good.



In all honesty though, it's a little work intensive. Each pita has to be rolled individually. If you're anything like me you get irritated and impatient to eat the damn things and end up with the oddest shapes imaginable. They taste just as good though, so who cares?

Once they're rolled, you slap some za'atar mixed with olive oil on top. I add extra sumac for a little tang too. Throw them into the hottest oven you can find and twiddle your thumbs impatiently for about 5 minutes. When they're ready pull them out and continue twiddling your thumbs because that olive oil is hot. If you burn your tongue then you can't taste all of the goodness in 5 minutes, once it's cooled. I know this because I regularly burn my tongue on hot food. It's a mood killer for sure. So where was I? Oh yeah, five minutes later, stop the thumb twiddling and eat! These are great alone, with thick sour yogurt, hummus or baba ganoush, sandwiching any number of salads, or even dipped in gazpacho. But I have to say, I'm a purist. Why mess with perfection?



Man'oushe
Adapted from Advanced Bread and Pastry by Michel Suas

For the sponge
88 g bread flour
68 g water
11 g instant yeast
6 g sugar

Mix the sponge and let ferment at room temperature for 30 mins.

For final dough
495 g bread flour
307 g water
10 g salt
1 g sugar
20 g butter
All of the sponge

Mix the ingredients together. Once combined knead for about 8 mins on medium speed in your mixer or 10 mins by hand.

Let ferment at room temperature for one hour and 30 mins.

Divide the dough into pieces approximately 85 g each. Roll each piece into a loose boule. Let rest for 30 mins at room temperature. To shape simply roll the boules out into flat circles with a rolling pin. If you want this to be plain pita bread you'll want to roll the most perfect circular shape you can. This will allow the pita to split evenly. However if you're making man'oushe this is not as necessary.

Final preparation
1 cup za'atar (I buy pre-mixed za'atar at Middle Eastern markets because I've read the type of thyme grown in the Middle East tastes very different from American varieties)
1 tsp sumac
1-2 cups olive oil

Heat oven to 500 degrees and let heat for approximately 1 hour before baking.

Mix za'atar, sumac and olive oil together. You want to achieve a spreadable paste-like consistency, so just add olive oil until you've reached that point.

Spread za'atar blend on your prepared unbaked flat breads. Place in the oven (two at a time) and bake for about 5 mins. Watch the bread. It will be light in color and may ahve some dark spots. The shorter you bake the lighter and fluffier your man'oushe will be. The longer the bake the crispier more cracker-like consistency you'll achieve. These reheat beautifully. I often keep them frozen for snacks.

You can find other great breads posted weekly at Yeastspotting.

New Weekly Post! Yummy Local Products I Can't Live Without!

I don't use pre-made foods and condiments all that often. Perhaps it's the rugged individualist in me, perhaps it's the mad-scientist? Hm. More likely it's my pig-headed belief that not only can I do anything I want to with food, I can do it better. Oh ouch. Now you know my deep dark bratty secret. Please don't leave yet... keep reading. I'm on the road to reform. I've seen the light in the form of buying local and it's hit me like a ton of bricks.



First off, I should amend that previous statement. I don't honestly think that what I make tastes better than anything else. I know that's not the case. I just feel, in my bones, the way people feel rain in their knees, I feel I can do whatever I want. I know I can! It just sometimes takes me a super long time to learn how. And time doesn't grow on trees, kids. Guess what else doesn't grow on trees? Fantastic creative amazing and tasty ideas. Nope... no trees like that around. Aside from racking the brains of folks in the kitchen at work, friends who mix drinks, bloggers with way too many great ideas and poring over the bazillion cookbooks I own, I'm stumped as to how to seek out inspiration for new ideas. I've found, though, the grocery store has a bounty of ideas all its own.



I tend to walk past the aisles of pre-made sauces (too expensive), handmade crackers (Mark will eat them before I get a chance to taste them), local ice creams (lactose + me = trouble) and bread (who are we kidding, I bake the bread in this house) without giving these things a second thought. However, lately, in my quest to buy local whenever possible I've discovered some unbelievable food. It's food I'd never dream up, food I don't have the resources or time to make and food made by people who really have perfected their craft. I'm talking tortillas, pasta sauces, honey, yogurt and of course, this is Texas, goat cheese.



After another marathon day at work of tasting the products local food producers brought in for us to sample, I decided it's high time I not only stop and inspect what products the local folks are making... I should probably taste them and play with them in my own kitchen. Not only that, why not write about them? I don't boast much of a readership here at Bread Baby, but maybe the little spots I post will help our local artisans and will convince other people to branch out like I'm doing... try something you might not have thought to before. So here it is. My first formal announcement... in addition to my regular weekly posts, I'm going to post once a week on a new local product. I'm going to try and use that product in a meal somehow too, because I think that's one problem with buying these new-fangled fancy products... how will we use them? Can we justify the cost? I'll only post about products I like and hopefully the answer will always be, "dude, that was totally worth it"!



For my inaugural local product post I'm writing about an old favorite. It's something I've wanted to post about forever, but haven't in the off-chance that I decide to open a pizzeria in the next five years or so. This is becoming imminently less likely, especially considering that I caught a pizza on fire last night. Fair to say pizza's not my game. Baking foibles aside, I have an amazing pizza sauce for you. Oh, she's a doozy. It's chipotle pesto made by an Austin-based company that's been around for quite a while called TexaFrance.



Not only is this pesto f-ing fantabulous, it's great on all sorts of average plain jane foods I probably wouldn't love if chipotle pesto wasn't a component... such as mozzarella pesto sandwiches. A word to the wise, if you open a restaurant and choose to feature only one vegetarian sandwich is it safe to make a mozzarella pesto one? Yes. Will I ever return to your establishment for one of those sandwiches? Probably no because I can get that very same sandwich at every single restaurant anywhere. However, if you add chipotle pesto to that sandwich will I drive across town just to buy it? Yes I will. I have done it many-a-time. What else? Tofu! Tofu is amazingly delicious marinated and fried in the stuff. Dip veggies in it? Sure! Grilling sauce? Sure why not? How about make a pizza with it? Oh hell yeah.



Whenever we make pizza at home we consider doing it two days in a row. I have no idea why one night of pizza doesn't quite sate our craving, but it's how it goes. We love our homemade pizza. So for the last two nights I've had pizza at home, the very same kind of pizza at home. It's slathered in chipotle pesto, with the tiniest bit of fresh mozzarella melted on top. Once out of the oven I dress it with fresh baby arugula tossed in olive oil and salt and top it with a poached egg (I've yet to master getting the right consistency when baking the egg right on the pizza). Heaven. And this my friends was the one and only reason I ever considered opening a pizzeria, so clearly it's worth sampling. The pesto is spicy and smoky, the arugula is peppery and bright and that egg... well, everything's better with an egg on top. Most especially pizza.

I'm mulling over ideas for local products posts in the future. Any ideas? Things I have to try? I'd love to hear it!

Find other great posts about breads and foods made with breads at Yeastspotting.

I wish I may, I wish I might...

I have quite a history of wanting things, wanting things I can't have and when I realize that, I want them even more. Perfectly rational, right?

When I was really little I wanted a unicorn. I wanted a unicorn real real bad. I thought about unicorns all the time. I had unicorn calendars, stickers, pins, stuffed animals. You name it. Every single time I threw a penny in the fountain at the mall, guess what? I wished for a unicorn. It's quite possible in fact that I've never wished for anything else while throwing pennies into mall fountains. I'm pretty sure it was only unicorns. I wrote poems about unicorns. In fact, I have one memorized. I wrote it when I was six and recited it to my entire class.

Unicorns are beautiful
So Natural, so white
Unicorns were made by love
Love itself alright

Yep, I wrote that. And guess what I wrote it on? If you guessed lavender stationary in the shape of a unicorn's head you'd be right. And guess where I found that puppy tucked away? In a unicorn folder of course! By seven I was pretty convinced that due to the apparent fact that the tooth fairy was actually not real (yes, I was seven before that information was confirmed... I clearly boycotted reality for the greater part of my childhood), that most probably the reason I'd never seen a unicorn was because they weren't real. This did not stop me though from continuing to throw my pennies into that mall fountain hoping and praying for a unicorn. The way I saw it, it was a wish... if wishes really did come true then I could most certainly wish a unicorn into existence. Right? Well, either unicorns really don't exist or wishes don't come true. It's a question for the ages.



This hoping in vain for the impossible soon mutated into something that seemed more realistic. I hoped and prayed and hoped that a Cabbage Patch Kid would arrive in the mail for me. Did I hope to get one for my birthday? Nope. Did I hope my report card would convince my parents I needed one? No, not in the least. Did I want to save up to buy one (which by this point I had already done once). Oh hell no. I wanted a Cabbage Patch Kid waiting for me, next to the mailbox, wrapped in brown paper. I knew the shape of that box and I must have spent two years walking home from school and imagining that Cabbage Patch Kid box there waiting for me. Had I ever once received a surprise mystery gift from a surprise benevolent stranger? Ummmm.... let me ponder this one. No!

I have to admit, I became a bit more rational as I grew older. I started to work for the things I wished for, rather than hope they would magically fall from the sky or count on the random benevolent stranger. And more importantly I hoped for things that had a greater than -10% probability of happening, or existing for that matter. Well, until about 7 years ago.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment, I can't pinpoint a certain event, all I know is back a bit in time I started to wish I was Spanish. I'm assuming wanting to change one's cultural background is uncommon, however, it might just be one of those things people don't talk about much. Like how wilted lettuce covered by queso really is delicious. It's a secret we all keep, right? So there you have it, at an age where it is no longer respectable to wish for dumb irrational things, I was fully in the midst of wishing for something dumb and irrational.



Now why would I wish for these things? Well, naturally, if born Spanish (ideally in southern Spain) I would be born to a very old flamenco dancing family. I would be raised in the bars where, in the wee hours of the morning, my father would have me get up on the bar where I'd clomp away across the bar, impressing even the most gifted dancers with my rhythm, my grace and the impressively pouty faces I made while dancing. Further, I would speak Spanish, naturally. Living in Texas I'm ashamed I don't speak Spanish. However, if I was born in Spain I could speak Spanish and I wouldn't even have to go to the trouble of learning it. It would be part of me. I would have impressively long, dark, thick hair. And a little wavy too. I just don't think you can dance really good flamenco without long hair. Also, being Spanish would justify my fiery temper.... or at least take what can be a difficult temper and turn it into something that can be called fiery, stormy and sexy. I have not been able to do this here in the States. Perhaps things are different over there in Espana? I don't even know why I think that tempers are a Spanish trait. It must be those pouty flamenco faces. And finally... well, the food. In fact, after the whole dancing bit, it's really the food that won me over.

I don't have an innate sense for working with Spanish flavors. I've read cookbook after cookbook on the subject and still feel like a total neophyte on the topic. I have a sense that I'm missing something, but without having spent more than a few weeks in Spain I don't feel sure I know what that something is. I also sense that in southern Spain the proximity to North Africa and the Moorish influence on the region plays heavily into the food. Actually I read that in a Lonely Planet, so naturally it must be true. I wish a feel for tossing together Spanish food was something, like speaking Spanish, I just grew into, part of my culture.

So what do I do? I don't toss pennies in mall fountains anymore, so that's out. Although, I did toss one in a fountain in Seville once, but I don't think I wished. I think I was just happy to be in Spain, tossing pennies around. No, now I just play. I mess around with flavor combinations that I'm not entirely confident in, I taste things I've never tasted and I pair up ideas that perhaps aren't intended to go together, but sometimes they just do.

And that's what this meal was... just a few odd ideas that didn't sound quite right together, but they just were. I melted onions down in olive oil, added some artichokes and melted them in as well. In the end I tossed in a few potatoes and a healthy dose of oloroso sherry. Somehow it just worked with the man'oushe I made to go to go with it. The sweet sherry and the buttery onions paired perfectly with the lemony zing of the za'atar and the crispy crunch of the bread. After eating it for two days straight I now think this is really unbelievably delicious.



I'll still keep hoping for my southern Spanish childhood, but I'll settle for a few months in a kitchen in southern Spain. And a jaunt into Morocco for a few weeks. I'm just sayin', in case that sort of thing can just fall from the sky, I'll take it.

Just a note, this post I'm featuring the potato dish. My next post will be on the manaeesh, or, in other words, my favorite bread hands down.

Artichokes and potatoes with oloroso sherry
Adapted from Moro East by Sam and Sam Clark

500 g small yukon gold potatoes
5 artichoke hearts, either canned in water or frozen, chopped into small pieces
8 Tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 large garlic clove, thinly sliced
3/4 cup oloroso sherry
1/2 cup water
1 1/2 Tbsp roughly chopped fresh mint

Cook the potatoes in boiling salted water until tender. Cut the large ones in half. You want bite-sized chunks.

Place a large heavy saucepan over medium heat and add 6 Tbsp of olive oil. When it's hot add the onion and a pinch of salt. Turn heat to medium-low and cook onions for about 10 mins. Onion should be soft and starting to color. Add the artichoke hearts and cook another 10-15 mins. Add the garlic and cook 1 min more. Pour in the sherry and water and half of the mint. Put the potatoes on top and cover for about 5 mins to steam. The sauce will still be very liquid. Taste for salt... don't be shy here. To serve drizzle with remaining olive oil and sprinkle with the rest of the mint. And just a note, this is much better on the second day, even cold out of the fridge. I recommend making it in advance.

The perfect ending

I have a confession to make. I'm not from here. By here, I mean Texas. I mean, I am from here, but by way of Minnesota when I was one and a half. And to Texans, that makes me not from here. People love to comment on my lack of an accent (although quite common in Austin, even for the natives). Growing up in a small town I was a complete anomaly. Jewish, spicy foods were all too spicy, family voted democratic... In short, square peg, round hole.

You know what though? We stayed. Slowly the tinges of the Midwestern accent I picked up from my parents faded until only a few words make it bubble to the surface. A few more fellow Jews came to town and I plugged away at those spicy foods until, lo and behold, I frequently complain that foods are not quite kicky enough for what has evolved to be my Southwestern palate. Oh and yeah, and democratic bit? Well, I live in Austin now, home to most of the states democrats.



After years of mumbling, "I'm not from Texas, but I got here as quick as I could" I finally feel like you know what, 32 years? I'd call that native. I'm from here.

But nothing jars you out of your sense of being a native as a little antiquing trip to small town central Texas. Yesterday me, my mom and my sister drove a mere 45 minutes out of town to Smithville. What's Smithville you ask, why it's where the movie Hope Floats was filmed and I'll be damned if that's about all they're famous for.

On the trip in we realized we were starving and locating the best brisket in town pronto was at the top of my agenda. Like the city slicker that I am I whipped out my iPhone and tried in vain to get UrbanSpoon to work its magic (is there a trick, that program has never ever ever helped me locate food, there is no magic). So much for that tactic. I ended up finding some reviews of a place right off the highway, Zimmerhandlers. It was an orange metal building with approximately 2 small windows. Well, we rolled in and stuck out like the sore thumbs we were. The walls were lovingly decorated with the heads of about 12 deer and at least one bobcat. We all proclaimed it authentic, to which not a few patrons turned around to stare at us ominously. And yes, we ordered practically everything on the menu as my family is wont to do... you know, just to taste it all. There was brisket and chopped beef (okay, we didn't get the sausage, oh well), white bread, beans, coleslaw and mustard potato salad. We topped it all off with a slice of buttermilk pie and another of coconut pecan pie. I was really shooting for some banana pudding, but the pudding they had was nanner and nilla wafer free and I could not abide by that.



Well, on to driving through the town. We said we were looking at pretty old houses, but really we were looking for the Hope Floats house. Just about every two story house set off a car full of squealing women, Is that it? That must be it! Is it? No.... and on to the next house. Well, fifteen minutes later and we were all hoarse and defeated. We could not confirm that Sandra Bullock and Harry Connick, Jr. had lingered on any of the porches we drove past (lovely as they all were). So we proceeded on to the antique stores, where my mother finally broke down and asked, Where is the Hope Floats house? Turns out we passed it and deemed it far too fancy to be a candidate. Shows what we knew.

We spent the day poking around antique shops where I scored a marble rolling pin at a steal, a purty picture of a windmill and a swiss army knife with my father's name engraved on it. He's gonna be thrilled to bits. My mom got herself a teapot and my sister disappointed me terribly by not purchasing a thing, thereby making me feel all the more guilty about my purchases. Thanks for nothing, Jenna.

From there we hopped into the car and headed towards Bastrop where it was also just cute as all get out. I believe there was more than one soda fountain on the main street. The houses were even better and my mom scored even more stuff at a little shop there. I had to hold myself back from buying a HomeEc baking book from 1936, owned by Mrs. Edith Lee in Thrall, TX.

We closed the day by feeding my sister's cows and donkeys on her land. Notable experiences: A cow ate out of my hand! Its tongue is grey! A mudd dauber landed on me! Okay, so clearly nothing of note happened, but it was nice to visit the animals. They're cute and stinky and all of them have big adorable eyes.

Okay, I'll stop this tale here to point out something of utter urgency. There is something missing from this story and I'll bet you already know what it is. It's Texas-y and it's sweet and goes with barbecue and I order it every single time it's on a menu ever. Why, Peach Cobbler of course! I'd love to end the story here by saying I then trotted on home and whipped up some peach cobbler then and there, making yesterday the perfect day the end. But alas... it wasn't so. Here's where that last vestige of not being a native Texan rears it's ugly Yankee head. Just kidding, we don't talk like that. But as I was saying, this is where it's clear I'm not from around here. I. Can't. Make. Peach. Cobbler. I know.... I probably can. I went to pastry school. I most likely can. But every attempt I've made has been an utter and miserable failure. Sometimes the top never cooks. Sometimes it's too bready, sometimes it's too sugary. Never never has it been that perfect balance of biscuit buttery lightness and sugary sweetness that I so so so so love. And every barbecue place from here to Louisiana can do it better, so I'll just eat theirs.



That didn't solve my problem last night though. There is no way to polish off a truly Texas day without some peaches cooked into a sugary slurry, topped off with something to contrast with all of the peachy goodness. While peach cobbler remains elusive, peach crisp scented with rosewater and cardamom is not. And neither is frozen yogurt. I whipped it all up and it so hit the spot. So okay, I admit, I'm not from around here, but I love it all the same.

Frozen Yogurt

500 g Greek Yogurt, full fat
200 g water
100 g sugar
100 g corn syrup
5 g lemon juice

Combine water, sugar and corn syrup in a pan and bring to a boil. You just want to dissolve the sugar, so once it's dissolved take it off the heat. Combine yogurt and lemon juice and pour sugar/water mixture over it and whisk to combine. Chill overnight. Freeze in your ice cream maker the next day according to instructions.

Rose-Cardamom Peach Crisp

For the filling
5 cups sliced peaches
2-3 Tbsp rosewater
1 1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 cup sugar, plus more to taste
1 1/2 tsp cornstarch

For the crisp
1/4 cup butter, chopped into small pieces
1/4 cup chopped pecans
1/4 cup oats
1/4 cup all purpose flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp cardamom

Heat the oven to 375 degrees.

Combine sliced peaches with rosewater, cardamom, sugar and cornstarch. Add more sugar if your peaches need sweetening. If they're really not tasty I recommend waiting till peaches are ready next year, but if you can't wait, squeeze in some lemon juice.

Put peach mixture in a small casserole dish.

Cut butter into the flour with a pastry blender or a fork. You want it to look like cornmeal. Mix in the nuts, oats, cardamom and salt. Squeeze it together with your hands so you form some small clumps. Sprinkle the mixture over the peaches.

Bake for 30-40 mins. Wait till it's cool to eat! The rose and cardamom flavors are best when it's room temp or cooler. Serve with the yogurt.

No room for distractions

I generally like my food free of distractions, and by distractions I mean sides. Recently I was speaking to someone about a recipe and this person asked me what I would serve with this particular dish. Huh? I blubbered a little bit, then I huffed and puffed, I mean, who has the time for sides anyway? And then I told her the truth. I really don't like side dishes. Let's break this down a bit, shall we?

First of all there's the sheer practicality of it. By the time I eat my "main" course, I'm full. Think about it, if our stomachs are as big as our fists, and our soup bowl is as big as Mike Tyson's fist, naturally there is no room left for even a Mary Lou Retton fist-sized side. Am I right or am I right?



Second of all, I have to eat everything before I move on to the next thing. Take your typical plate of enchiladas. There's rice. There's beans. There's that little salad thing that I'm not sure is for eating or for "color". And then there are the enchiladas. Enchiladas get eaten first because they're the namesake of my plate. Then the rice gets eaten because it's soaked up all the sauce from the enchiladas and is, therefore, delicious. Sometimes even the questionably edible salad has soaked up the sauce and is also, therefore, delicious. I should add, I really love hot wilted lettuce in enchilada sauce. It even sounds gross as I type it. I worked at a Tex-Mex place in college and developed a fondness for lettuce with tomatillo sauce and queso poured on top. Mostly because the restaurant didn't charge me for it. Try it... well, try it when you're really poor. You'll most definitely grow to love it, even when you can afford better. Anyway, back to that enchilada plate. Now all we have left are the beans. First of all, gross. I just can't support the eating of plain beans. I know you're wondering why I didn't mix them with my rice? Because, that's not the logic I follow, that's why. No mixing ever. Second of all, I'm stuffed. And guess what, I was stuffed way back before I even started on that rice, which brings me back to reason one. It was way too much food anyway.

Third of all, sides are sub par. If they weren't they'd be mains, right? Honestly, the sides I've eaten that were as good as or better than the main work just as well on their own. You just eat more of them. This is perhaps vegetarian logic, but I stand by it. If those green beans are good enough I just eat them as a meal. You just eat more of them, like a Mike Tyson fist-sized serving.



This brings me to the empanada, oh how I love the empanada. To begin with, it's a complete meal, it's a meal in its own self-contained package that I can theoretically carry around with me while I drive, or in a little container to work, or while I read a book by the pool. I don't do any of those things really. I'm far too messy for that and would end up picking up empanada fillings off of my clothes for the rest of the day. So we'll just leave all those handy dandy utilitarian options in theortical-ville. In reality-ville though, it is the size of a fist... or someone's fist, I'm sure of it. It can cover all four basic food groups if you're smart about it. And most importantly, they're good. They're fantastic even. And when you make them, you make a lot, so you can have a little meal in your hand in a second's notice.

And that's just what I did the other day. I made empanadas, I made tons and tons of empanadas. I honestly wasn't expecting much, I just wanted something we could heat up whenever we need a snack, because my job has left me woefully lazy when it comes to preparing dinner. Seriously though, these empanadas far exceeded my expectations... and now after eating my one very large empanada I'm left wondering if it's not bad to sneak another one.



The crust is rich with olive oil and lightly flaky, laced with saffron. The filling is substantial, but tastes deceitfully light. It's also enhanced with saffron, along with a creamy mixture of melting onions and bell peppers and canned tuna, because the Spanish lo-o-o-oove their canned tuna. Honestly, writing this, I'm having to use all of my self-control to keep myself from grabbing one right now. The only thing holding me back is the threat of saffron-y peppers and onions oozing all over my keyboard. Otherwise, it would be on!

Galician Tuna Empanada
Adapted from The New Spanish Table by Anya von Bremzen

For the crust
3/4 tsp instant yeast
2/3 cup lukewarm water
4 Tbsp butter, melted
1/2 cup olive oil
1 large egg, beaten
1 large pinch of saffron, toasted, pulverized and steeped in 3 Tbsp very hot water
2 tsp salt
3 1/2 - 4 cups all purpose flour

Combine yeast, water, butter, olive oil, egg, saffron and salt. Mix well with the paddle attachment of a mixer. Stir in 3 1/2 cups flour, 1 cup at a time. Add extra flour until you have a tender, pliable and oily dough. It will feel much softer than a typical pie crust or bread dough.

Switch to the dough hook attachement for the mixer and knead for about 5 mins. Divide the dough into 9 or 10 equal sized pieces. Roll into balls, set on a flat surface and cover in plastic for 20 mins. The dough won't really appear to rise.

Place dough in refrigerator until ready to use. Let it return to room temp before using (about 1 hour).

For the filling
1/3 cup olive oil
2 medium garlic cloves, minced
2 large white onions, quartered and thinly sliced
3 large red bell peppers, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
1 medium green bell pepper, cored, seeded and thinly sliced
1 large ripe tomato, peeled and grated
2 tsp sweet (not smoked) paprika
1 small pinch of saffron, pulverized and steeps in 2 Tbsp very hot water
15 oz solid oil-packed tuna, flaked witha fork
2 eggs, boiled and crumbled
4 Tbsp minced flat-leaf parsley
3/4 cup sliced manzanilla olives
1 large egg, beaten

Put olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and cook for 1 min. Add the onions and cook until translucent, about 5 mins. Add the red and green peppers and cook until they begin to soften, 7-8 mins. Add a little more olive oil if it looks too dry. Reduce the heat to medium low, stirring occassionally until the vegetables are very soft, but not brown. Add the tomato, paprika and saffron. Simmer until vegetables are reduced to a jam-like consistency, about 15 mins. Let cool slightly, then stir in tuna, eggs and parsely. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Roll each round of dough out to circles about 7 inches in diameter. Put filling into one half of each circle, leaving a border around the filling. Sprinkle the filling with green olives. You want a green olive in each bite, ideally. Fold the other half of the dough over the filling to make half moons. Decoratively crimp the edges to seal closed. Be sure they're sealed. Cut a few slashes in the top of each empanada to let steam out. The filling will boil out a little - no worries! Brush the top of the empanadas with the beaten egg.

Set the empanadas on a prepared baking sheet, ideally on parchment paper. Bake for 45 mins. Let cool slightly before eating. You can heat these in the oven to reheat and the crust will stay flaky.



Visit Yeastspotting for more bread and yeasted pastries! This week's is hosted by imafoodblog. Thanks!

Can I get a hell yeah?

So I have a new job. Have I mentioned this yet? Is this old news? Well, at any rate, too bad if it is, because I'm telling you twice, if in fact I have told you once already. This new job is perhaps too good to be true. It's something I stumbled upon with the help of a friend who I can't thank enough.

This new job involves food, a kitchen all to myself, a little baking, a lot of cooking, local seasonal uber luxe ingredients, and truffle oil. I'm a chef at a new hotel here in town, making breakfasts several days a week and most likely catering some events from time to time.

It's such dumb luck really. I stumbled upon this job at just the perfect moment. A friend told me about it and well... the rest is history.



Most of the time, when I work, I work alone. This of course has its ups and downs. There is no way I can say anything bad about having my own kitchen to work in. I make my own messes, I clean them up. Any stress there is 100% my problem and I deal with it. That being said, I am cook, baker, dishwasher oh yeah, and server and bartender all in one. When I'm busy I'm slammed. Juggling things in and out of the kitchen can be less than conducive to the perfect crepe. Honestly though, anything that can teach me to work better and faster, well that's where I need to be.

It can get a little quiet there in the kitchen and most of us at the hotel can't abandon our posts for a chat in the event that a guest needs something at a moment's notice. Oh yeah, and when someone needs something we snap to it, and fast. This is no pull off the highway for a quick nap sort of place. It's very nice and by very nice I mean very stylish and by very stylish I mean holy shit. What dumb luck that I get to hang out at that hotel half of the week.



It's not all unicorns and moonbeams of course. It has its downs. The biggest saddest bummer-est part of the whole thing though, even worse than my 5:30AM alarm going off to get me to work on time, is the fact that as of right now the hotel grounds are only open to hotel guests and their friends. My friends can't stop by for a quick drink at the bar or a couple of scones on the fly. Nope, it's p-r-i-v-a-t-e. That may change, and it may change soon, but for now I'm waiting for my friends to get rich and famous enough to book a night there before I can whip up some snacks for them. And while they're all busy getting rich and famous, maybe they could book me a night there as well? They'll for sure need someone to keep them company while we sip cocktails out of gold-rimmed glasses and eat coffee and lavender rubbed cheddar with brandied cherries by the cutest pool in town.

But for now, it's just me all by my lonesome, hanging out in the kitchen, toasting a baguette for myself, slicing some heirloom tomatoes, frying up an egg, covering the whole lot of it in a bit of smoked salt and truffle oil and calling it breakfast. Not bad for an old girl, eh?



So in homage to my new job I bring you a meal inspired by the food we make there using a recipe for bread from a book I borrowed from the kitchen manager, as well as a healthy dose of truffle oil.

All it is, and it really is as simple as an "all it is", is some crispy, crusty, nutty and fresh garlic and olive oil rubbed toast, covered in a heaping pile of arugula and marrow beans spiked with some sherry vinegar, topped with a fried egg (can I get a hell yeah for that fried egg on top??) and well, truffle oil. Cause it's just that easy my friends, everything tastes like heaven with a wee baby bit of truffle oil on top.

Marrow Beans and Arugula on Toast
Loosely adapted from Living, you know, Martha Stewart's rag

2 cups cooked marrow beans
4 cups fresh mature arugula
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 onion, diced
1 1/2 tsp fresh thyme, pulled off stem
2 tsp sherry vinegar
2 tsp olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Heat olive oil in a large saute pan. Toss in onions and cook about 2 mins, till translucent. Add crushed garlic and cook 1 min more. Add beans and cook about 3 mins, till heated through. Add arugula and vinegar and cook just until arugula wilts. Toss in thyme, cook about 1 more min and remove from heat. Season with salt and pepper.

To assemble

1 egg
1/2 tsp butter
a slice of your favorite toast (I used an olive oil seeded bread from The Bread Bible, it was awesome, but I don't expect you to be as nerdy as me and actually bake bread specially for this meal... but, then again, why not?)
1 clove garlic
olive oil
truffle oil

Brush the bread with the olive oil and rub with the garlic clove. Heat it in the oven until brown and crispy. In the meantime heat the butter in a frying pan. Fry the egg in your favorite way. Mine is sunny side up, in case you were curious.

Pile the greens and beans on the toasted bread. Lay the egg on top. Season with pepper and salt and sprinkle with truffle oil.

You can see this recipe and others featured at Yeastspotting.

Spice and spice and everything nice

Somewhere along the way I convinced myself I don't like sweets. Except chocolate chip cookies, which I'll eat no matter how good, or bad they might be. And by the way, dear Austin bakeries, please make good chocolate chip cookies. Please put a little heart into it. Right now I only buy them at Primizie which A) is not a bakery, and B) I suspect that's the New York Times recipe and it's good, but I'd love to have a cookie that tastes just a little mysterious.

I suppose I could make them myself... because I know what I would do. I know what would make them the best cookies in the world (pecan meal), but I don't like sweets, remember? It's honestly that I can't have sweets near me. They don't exist if they're not in my house. If they are in my house I am an unstoppable glutton who moans and groans incessantly about how much I dislike sweets as I shovel armfuls of the stuff into my mouth, my stomach suddenly a cavernous pit of insatiable-ness. So you see why I claim I don't like sweets? Life is easier that way.



Unfortunately though, I had a little shindig a few weeks ago. It was a little pastry soiree for a few of my nearest and dearest. It was my chance to make some treats for my friends and exercise some of my new found patiserrie skills. I made about 16 different things, cakes and cookies and mousses and breads... and there were a few leftovers. Just a few. It was enough though. I now have had cake every night before bed. And lately I've been having cookies before and after lunch. What's worse, some of these leftovers are in the form of unbaked dough. There's enough for about ten miniature gateau basques and three miniature salted caramel and chocolate tarts. I might have over-extended myself the teeniest bit.

What's worse, I am no match for the gluttonous beast within, I've let it into my fridge and I have to eat until I've eaten the beast out of my house. What a pain.



The problem was recently compounded by the challenge I received from my friend Susann. Actually, it was a nice request to bake a birthday cake for a friend. However, in true Aries spirit I have taken this off-handed request as a personal challenge to make the richest, most seductively decadent, ooiest gooiest creation ever to grace a ping pong tournament themed birthday party. I realize I might have little competition on this front, but forge ahead with competitive drive I will. Now, not to disappoint, but I'll most likely, if all goes as planned, report on this cake in a later post, so hold your horses ooey gooey rich and decadent cake lovers. No treats for you yet.

I'll give you a wee hint though. This cake for the weekend party includes bananas. Very fresh bananas, not the over-ripe version one would normally use for baking. And for some reason I bought those bananas on Monday and am making the cake filling on Saturday. I'm sure you can imagine the state those babies would be in by then. What can I say, I got a bit over-eager.

Seeing that my stash of frozen bananas for smoothies runneth over due to the fact that I never make smoothies, I had to come up with a different use for these bananas and pronto.



Last night I baked. I broke down and added to the sweets stash that is my freezer. I was hoping to make a simple breakast bread that I could slip out of the freezer and toast on the days I need a break from yogurt and granola. I messed up though. Big time. Somehow I managed to make a rich and enchanting spicy cake that I dare not break out until I've done my duty and eaten my veggies.

I've been taken with the idea of making a banana upside-down cake for some time. The thing is, cooked bananas can be so very make-your-jaw-ache sweet. I love the flavor, but it needs a little balance. Normally I pair my cooked bananas with salsa, eggs and beans. See what I mean? In terms of baking though, I wanted my bananas on top of something a little salty, a little spicy, but not at all savory. I played around with a recipe I found online and, well, the sweets stash has been replenished and I anticipate replenishing it many times over with this cake.

Caramelized Banana and Ginger Upside-Down Cake
Adapted from Leslie Mackie’s Macrina Bakery & Café Cookbook by way of Seattlest

For the topping

1 1/2 Tbsp butter*
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 tsp ras el hanout
1-2 bananas

For the cake

1/2 cup butter*
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp fresh grated ginger
2 small eggs
1/3 cup blackstrap molasses
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 + 1/8 tsp salt
3/4 cup buttermilk

Set oven to 325 degrees. Grease either a loaf pan or a 4-5" round cake pan. Cut parchment paper to sit in the bottom of the pan.

For the topping combine the sugar, butter and ras el hanout in a saucepan over low heat to melt the butter and fully combine ingredients. Immediately pour this into your prepared baking dish. Slice banans into 1/2" - 3/4" coins and lay over top of topping. Pack the tightly, coin side down, to completely cover baking dish.

For the batter, sift dry ingredients together and set aside. Cream butter and sugar together for about 3-5 mins. You don't want it fluffy, but you want it very smooth and creamy. Add the grated ginger and cream for about 1 min more. Add eggs one at a time to emulsify. Scrape down bowl between additions. Slowly add molasses. It will look a little break-y at this point. That's okay.

Add a third of the sifted dry ingredients to combine. Add half of the buttermilk. Scrape down between additions. Continue with the additions so dry is the last thing you add and it's fully combined.

Pour into prepared baking dish and smooth out the top. Bake for 1 hour and 30 mins. Check for done-ness before removing it from the oven.

Let cool for 10 mins before turning the cake out onto a cooling rack.

* Use really nice butter for this. You can really taste it and it's so very wonderful!