Cooking: Lazy Day Loaf

It's taken a year of research and experimentation, but I think I've finally discovered my solution to bread baking on hot, humid summer days. This recipe is a step up from the No-Knead Bread of recent fame, and I find that the flavor and crumb of this loaf is a vast improvement over that recipe.

And P.S. the man-hands in the pictures below belong to my dad. I'm thinking he has a possible future in the field of professional hand-modeling.

Baguette-Style Loaf
thanks to James McGuire, as published in The Art of Eating, No. 73 + 74

Ingredients:
500 gr all-purpose flour
10 gr (1 1/2 tsp) fine salt (preferably kosher)
2 gr (1/8 tsp, or about a pinch) yeast
400 ml (1 5/8 c) water

Blend flour and salt in a bowl and form a well in the center. Pour the water into the well and sprinkle the yeast on top. Allow the yeast to dissolve (about 5 minutes). Using your fingertips, gradually begin to mix the flour into the water until all the flour is incorporated. This should take about two minutes. Cover the bowl and let rest for 10 minutes. When the ten minutes is up, give the dough its first fold. Slip your fingers between the side of the bowl and the dough. Grasp the dough between your fingers and thumb, lift the flap upwards to about the rim of the bowl, and then lay the flap across the top of the dough. Give the bowl a turn and repeat the folding until you have gone a full revolution--about 8 to 10 folds. Cover and let rest for 1 hour. After an hour, give the dough a second set of folds. Cover and let rest 1 hour.After two hours, give the dough a third set of folds. Cover and let rest 1 hour.
After three hours, give the dough a fourth set of folds. Cover and let rest 1 hour.
After four hours, give the dough a final set of folds. At this point, the dough should largely come away from the sides of the bowl when you're doing this and the dough should hold a roughly spherical shape. Sprinkle a little flour between the dough and the sides of the bowl and turn the dough out onto a floured work surface (so the folds are now underneath). Dust the dough lightly with flour and cover with the inverted bowl. Let rest 20 minutes.

While the dough is resting, prepare a rising bowl or basket. If you have an actual rising bowl or basket, pat a little bit of flour into the sides and use that. If you're improvising, find a circular bowl or basket about the diameter of the dough and line it with a clean, smooth kitchen towel (not terry cloth or anything with a nap).

After 20 minutes, pick the dough up and gently reshape it into a sphere by tucking the ends under. Invert it into the rising basket so the folds are on top. Cover with plastic wrap or a towl and let it rise at room temperature for 45 - 50 minutes. The loaf has sufficiently risen when a fingertip indention disappears completely in 2-3 seconds. If it springs back like a rubber ball, it's not ready; if the indention remains, it's risen for too long and your loaf will still be yummy, but won't rise as much in the oven. After the dough has been rising for a half an hour, place a baking stone in your oven and pre-heat the oven to 450-degrees.*

When the dough is ready, sprinkle a pizza peel with a light layer of cornmeal (or the back of a cookie sheet will do) and tip the dough onto it. Quickly cut a few scores into the surface of the dough--about a half-inch deep--with a razor blade. Slide the dough into the oven onto the baking stone. Using a spray bottle, spritz the inside of the oven (avoiding the light) and the surface of the dough and quickly close the door. Repeat this a few times in the first five minutes of baking.

When the loaf begins to color (after about 15 minutes), turn the oven down to 350-degrees. Also, rotate the loaf every 15 minutes so that it bakes evenly (most oven have 'hot spots' that can cause un-even baking). After 45 minutes, start checking for doneness. If you thump the bottom of the loaf with your thumb, it will sound hollow--like you're knocking on a door. The surface should be a caramelly-color with spots of darker toast color. The internal temperature should be about 210-degrees.

Allow to cool for 20 minutes. Serve with room-temperature butter sprinkled with sea salt and a few dollops of good honey.

*You can also bake this in a dutch oven, a la 'No-Knead Bread.' Just place your dutch oven inside the oven so both pre-heat at the same time. When it comes time to bake, tip the dough into the dutch oven and cover with lid. Let it bake for about 30 minutes with the lid on and finish with the lid off.

May I not hide from my shenpa

So I was looking at the calendar at work the other day, trying to figure out when these books will publish and if we're going to make the class date and yadda yadda, and it suddenly hit me that if things had gone differently a few months ago, I'd be getting married in two weeks.

Wow. That feels so incredibly strange. It's like there's a ghost-life walking beside me with a finger hooked through a piece of my spirit. The ghost of "What Might Have Been." I think I've subconsciously been avoiding thinking about this. I mean, I knew it was coming--how could I not?--but it's always been in the Distant Future, you know? The ever-future and never-present. And now the present is looming and I feel caught off guard.

I was talking about this to a friend of mine and he said, "I know just what you mean. So many significant dates: anniversaries and birthdays that should have been celebrations." These days are so bittersweet--it's so hard to know whether to celebrate or mourn them. And in our culture of polar opposites, there really isn't a precedent for doing both.

The Engineer and I have talked about wanting to do something on the day to kind of...commemorate it. Not celebrate it, exactly. But more...acknowledge it. Our Once-Wedding Day. Of course, my instinct is to curl up in my darkened room with my back to the world and close my eyes until it's all over. But I have a feeling there's probably something more healing and connecting that could also happen. Some curling up might still be in order.

That Other Emma feels so close. She's just in the next room, she's within shouting distance. I can reach out and almost touch her. She has no idea I'm here. I watch her and I envy her. I know how sad she really is, how unsure and brave, but her future is clear. Even more important than that is that she believes it. She believes in that future. And though this new life I'm living is honest and real and joyful, it's also terrifying and almost unbearably painful. Her dreams were my dreams for too long not to envy her.

Microwave Safe?

This article in the New York Times made me giggle with memories of my friend Adrianne and me daring each other to stand in front of the microwave when we were about twelve:

The Claim: People Shouldn't Stand Too Close to a Microwave

For some reason, we really thought that standing in front of the microwave would cause us to instantly mutate or render us sterile for LIFE. Life was an inconceivably long time back then--so inconceivable that I couldn't imagine ever having children, so the idea of sterility wasn't overly frightening. Apparently. Crazy kids.

My parent's old, wood-paneled microwave with the turny-knobs of contoured plastic still does kind of worry me, though. It's bulk dominated the kitchen--it loomed over the lip of the counter and made an interesting, if startling, WHIRRRRRR! noise when in use. As a kid convinced she had magical powers (oh no, not ME!), I was certain I could see the waves of Evil Red Radiation oozing out from edges of the microwave door.

My folks finally replaced it a few years back--not because it didn't work (my dad is quick to point out) but because they were remodeling the kitchen and all the other appliances were getting an upgrade, so....farewell, Beloved Faux-Wood Worrisome Lurking Microwave Oven.

Actually, though, I think my parents might have bequeathed it upon my less-mistrusting younger brother who has made the mistake of living close enough to home to "benefit" from my parent's cast-offs. A dubious honor. Danger lurks!

Who wears short shorts?

Warning! Potentially blinding shots of pale white legs ahead!

Ok, so here's the first leg in all it's glory. More of a hem, really. (aHEM! Oh, I just made myself laugh out loud. I heart puns.) You can kinda make out the drop stitch 'rip' in the picture above. This one is a smallish one, but the other rips were...er...difficult to photograph by one's self, shall we say. All in all, I'm pretty pleased! They're snug, suitably faux-denim, and...well..short.

Did I say short? I'm pretty sure there should be another name for this. They're purty darn short. See Evidence A:

Yeehaw, y'all! The ironic thing is that I STOPPED knitting because I was afraid it was getting too long! It was hard to try them on while the actual knitting was happening--needles and cords and balls of yarn and whatnot goofing up my measurements. So I had to guesstimate based on other pairs of shorts.

I have to admit that when wiggled into them and looked in the mirror to check out that first leg, my hands started twitching for a bathrobe. Or a towel. Or pair of full-length jeans. SOMETHING! They're painfully immodest for a lil' Midwestern gal like myself. I'm really having to force myself not to undo the bind-off and add on a few more rows.

Right? I should leave it, right? I mean they are Daisy Dukes. Right? Oh dear...cluck cluck cluck.

Harry Potter: Knit the Movie

I went to see the new Harry Potter move, "Order of the Phoenix," this Friday, and I have to admit that I don't remember much of it because I was so distracted by all the fabulous knit goods. I mean, who can follow the intricate machinations of Dumbledore's Grand Master Plan when there's patterns to be analyzed and yarn to be coveted?

Umbridge's wardrobe mistress must be Knitting Kinfolk. Scene after scene had me gasping with delight. Umbridge purty much stole the show, knit-wise, but don't miss Trelawny's stellar handbag:
There really are no words for this one. Except "yum":She had a whole train wreck of amazing sweaters, as well, but I didn't want to overwhelm you.

Stripes also made a grand showing:
It's hard to make out the detailed lacing on Luna's scrumptious lavender capelet, but it's well worth a closeup:And here's our crew, bedraggled yet triumphant, in all their knit glory:
Ron's sweater is particularly priceless. I don't know if Luna's pants are knit, but they should be. Or rather, they could be.

Anyhow, knitting distractions aside, the movie was really excellent. Similar Starbucks coffee, I've found that bringing up Harry Potter in conversation opens to the door to intense debate. People have some darn strong opinions about the inherent value of Harry Potter and its affect on the youth of today (and the rest of us)! I happen to fall on the "thumbs up" side of the "Harry Potter: Yeah or nay?" fence. I always feel a need to justify why I like it to people, but really it just comes down to this: Folks, it's really not that big of a deal. I don't see the need to get all uppity about it--either for or against, really. (And if you feel that burning urge to take on a big franchise or two that's arguably ruining the youth of today, I suggest turning your attention Walt Disney or McDonald's.)

I'm very much looking forward to the last book coming out next week--both for the sheer delight and also so that I can finally put an end to the sense of incompleteness that's been like a hangnail in my psyche since I read the first book six years ago. Plus my gals and I are taking a trip to Cape Cod at the end of the month, and I think it will be perfect to read while lounging on the beach and showing off my Daisy Dukes.

Summer Showers (and Salads)

I'm snug in my apartment listening to the first real thunderstorm of the season. The neighbor's daughter must be having a sleepover because every time the thunder booms, I hear a chorus of screaming followed by giggling and loud protestations of having been the scaredy-cat who initiate the screaming.

The hours at the noodle factory have been long lately this being our annual Busy Bee Season, leaving me too drained and uninspired when I get home to do much more than heat up a twice-baked potato (made en masse a few weekends ago and frozen in anticipation of my post-work zombie state). But the weather has been struggling to be summer lately and I've been craving pasta salad. So today, I decided that come hell or high water, I was going to have my salad tonight. Darnit.

The irony is that it seems pretty hellish and high-watery outside right now (queue girly screaming). But I've got my pasta salad!

Summer-at-Last Pasta Salad

1 bag tortellini--any type, cooked, drained and cooled.
1 yellow onion--coarsely chopped and sauteed (Feel free to leave raw--I just don't like raw onion very much and the slightly caramelized sauteed onion here makes a nice compliment to the flavors)
3-5 cloves garlic--coarsely chopped and sauteed with the onion
1 red pepper--chopped
a few stalks of celery--chopped
a handful of fresh basil--coarsely chopped
half a tube of goat cheese (any kind)--crumbled
3 tablespoons dressing
2 teaspoons sea salt

Combine in bowl. Serve over greens (hopefully yours haven't been sitting in your fridge for two weeks waiting patiently for me to cook this meal and are a little less grumpy than mine). Consume with gusto. Nice. And. Simple.

For the tortellini, I used Trader Joe's artichoke tortellini, and for the goat cheese, I used the recently-discovered Trader Joe's low-fat goat cheese. It's really quite edible! It's distinctly goat cheese and best when used in combination with other things--like this salad or pizza. I don't know that it would stand on its own, unless you mixed in some herbs. Mmm...that's an idea. Oh, P.S. in retrospect, a stronger cheese would do better in this salad--a blue cheese or Roquefort or other stinky cheese.

And for the dressing, I used Maple Grove Farm's Lime-Basil Vinaigrette--my mom hooked me on this line of dressing. Most of the flavors are fat-free and really quite good. I tend to not like the oily, greasy dressings in typical offering, and the Maple Grove dressings are somehow both light tasting while still coating all the little bits and pieces in your salad. Score!

This Stella Italia Pinot Grigio is destined to become my Summer 2007 Refreshment of Choice. It's light and floral with a very distinct flavor of honey. But not a cloying honey, just...like the whiff of honey you get while spooning it over your strawberries. The finish is apple-crisp and altogether satisfying. It goes well with any course--salad (obviously), fish, a light dessert. And if that weren't enough, it's $6.99 at Trader Joe's. I'm sold.

Thunder moving off. Salad finished. Sleepover moved on to a movie (hopefully not a scary one). Time for little Emma to think about another helping of salad.

Sick Days and Daisy Dukes

I got bowled over by a summer cold yesterday, completely out of the blue. No sniffly warning signs, no dry-cough indicator. Just woke up yesterday morning and proceeded straight to the moaning stage. Where normally I would soldier through and keep on trucking through my regularly scheduled life with no regard to what my body was trying tell me, I thought I'd try something different this time around and actually take a break. So I came home early yesterday and ended up staying home again today. The past 48 hours have been a tough regimen of naps, tea, movies ("Shortbus" was not what I expected--wowzas), and more naps.

Having said all this, I'm now at the antsy "everything in my apartment bores me, but sitting upright for more than a few minutes feels like dying" stage. And then I remembered, Oh yeah. I have a blog! So far this post has taken me about an hour to write because I keep putting my head down on my desk and taking a little catnap. That sounds more sad than it really is. I think. Actually, I feel a lot better!

Here, help me with my knitting:

I started working on the daisy dukes a while ago, loosely based on the Sweetheart Shorts pattern over at Knitpicks (I keep typing that as sweatheart shorts, but that's...not at all what I'm going for). I decided to use some navy blue cotton yarn because I couldn't find any denim at any of the yarn stores within public transit distance. I also accidentally threw away the label, so I can't tell you exactly which yarn or dyelot I'm using. I know, I know. A knitter's biggest faux-pas. Alls I can say is that it's been a rough few months, and well, it's just yer basic navy blue cotton dishtowel yarn, so I think we'll be ok.

I also decided to use the pockets from an actual pair of jeans instead of knitting my own. The tricky part was figuring out how to knit the front so that the pockets from the jeans would line up. I spent the entire time while I was waiting for a standby flight to Minnesota last April inexpertly plotting the slope of the pocket and matching it to my gauge. I felt veeeery smart when I was done, let me tell you!
The knit pocket actually lines up perfectly with the jean-pocket, but I moved the knit piece askew a little so you can see what an awesome job I did with that pocket shaping.

So--I will knit the front and the back in two separate pieces and then join them together at the bottom of the pocket. I already had to rip out and restart once because I am knitting the front and back pieces separately on straight needles, but my gauge was taken from knitting in the round. I know, I know--another big knitting faux pas to so brashly assume my gauge would be the same (unless you're a knitter, I know you don't care a lick about gauge, but trust me, it can be a real brat). Anywho, easily remedied by going down a needle size for knitting the front and back and then switching to the larger needles when I joined the pieces for working in the round.

And then I realized my second mistake. The sweetheart shorts pattern has you start increasing for shapeliness around the hip and bottom region after about an inch and a half. I figured (again, oh-so-brashly) that my pockets would be about an inch and a half and I'd start shaping as soon as I joined the pieces. Well, this would have actually been fine. If I'd remembered. Instead, I was so excited at working in the round that I whipped off several rows and now I'm at about two and a half inches. So here's my Dilemma Emma, do I rip the three rows and go back to do the shaping correctly? Or do I soldier through and keep on trucking through my regularly scheduled knitting?

No, don't say it. I know what you're going to say. I know what I have to do. I have to. My conscience will never let me live with subpar knitting. Even for a pair of daisy dukes. I will have to rip it, and rip knowing full well that I may very well drop all those cast-ons at the bottom of the pocket and just have to start completely over. It's ok. I'm still going to be sick another few days. I still have plenty of daytime TV to catch up on. *sigh*

Oh, but here's the exciting part that I need to figure out soon: I want to intentionally knit little tears in the bottom hem of the shorts--like Kay's Raspy sweater HERE. I can probably figure it out myself, but it would probably be a good idea to track down a copy of Denim People to get the full story.

And on that note, I feel another nap coming on. Or some tea. But not together. Bad combo.

Emma's Feel Better Tisane/Tea/Whatever-Cuz-It-Makes-Me-Feel-Better Drink:

Cuppa hot water
A coupla scoops of honey
A teaspoon-ish of fresh grated ginger
Half a squeezed lemon

Ahhh....

Culinary School Application: Personal Statement

Personal Statement:

Please attach a personal statement of 250 words or more, in which you discuss who you are, your background, training or experience in the culinary arts, special interests, goals, and reasons for applying to this program.

---

Cooking is something I never expected to love. I alternated between bland stir-fried veggies with pasta and rice with poorly spiced stir-fried veggies for countless weeknight dinners--and occasionally threw in a dinner mix from Trader Joe’s for a little variety. A few years ago, health reasons forced me to re-evaluate my eating habits, and I realized a simple fact very quickly: most health food is incredibly boring. That’s when I started cooking for myself and started to learn that food could be more than something that filled you up. That's when I started to fall in love with good food.

Honestly, I never expected to be here. This is not a place I expected to arrive. It’s not that I didn’t believe it was possible; it’s that it wasn’t ever something I even considered.

When I first started thinking about going to culinary school last fall, I looked for every reason not to go. I kept waiting for my friends and family to tell me what a ridiculous idea this was, how I was wasting my time and my money, how just because I liked cooking didn't mean I needed to go to culinary school. Unfortunately, none of my friends did this. They were incredibly supportive and had nothing to say but good things. So I had to face the fact that the only voices of dissent that I was hearing were those in my own head.

Ok, forget health food; this post is boring me.

Here's the thing: I want to tell you what's been going on with me these past few weeks. I have to. I feel like I have to write this post and get everything out in the open before I can move on. I've been working on my application to culinary school this past week and while I was writing my personal statement, I found a lot of emotions coming up that made me think that a faux-personal statement might make a good frame for talking about everything--in true MFA creative non-fiction memoir style. But instead, it looks like I'm just going to have to blurt everything out because this coming at it sideways and cat-like thing just isn't working tonight.

So.

Ok, I've been sitting here staring at the computer screen for about five minutes. This is going to be harder than I thought. I know that once I start talking, I'll be ok. It's starting that's hard.

About a month and a half ago, I came back from a business trip and the Engineer (ok, coy nicknames aren't going to work right now. His name is Scott. I will call him Scott.). I came back from a business trip and the next morning walking to get coffee, Scott asked if we could think about pushing the wedding date back a bit. Because I know Scott, because we've been together for four and a half years, because we've been through a lot together, I knew immediately that there was more behind that little query than might first appear. And because I know Scott, because we've been together for four and a half years, because we've been through a lot together, I knew that Scott himself didn't necessarily realize how much was going on behind those few spare words.

And there was. A lot more. The past few weeks have been...oh, a slew of tired metaphors come to mind, all of which I've used at one point or another when talking with friends and family. It's been like peeling an onion where exposing each layer only approximates getting closer to the core of things, but never quite does. It was like a snowball picking up speed as it bumps it's way down a hill, gathering ice and twigs and dirt and debris in its passing. It was like catching sand in your hands, like trying to hold water. It just kept getting worse and worse until I thought my life couldn't fall into any more pieces, and then I realized that the pieces themselves were blowing away and I was left standing on a street corner in a foreign city where no one spoke my language. My head has been a bleak and dark place.

We decided to separate about a month ago (saying that we "broke up" seems too...small...to really describe it). Scott left for his reasons, and I left because I realized that I'd been working really really hard for a long time to convince myself that the relationship I had was the relationship that I wanted, and I had finally realized that it wasn't. I loved Scott. I still love him. But the relationship we had was done. It was good for that time of my life. It was what I needed--what we needed. And it was time for it to be over. And so, I let it go. It was that simple. My hand had been clenched for so long trying to hold on to this thing, and I just opened my fist and let it go. It was both one of the hardest and the easiest things I have ever done.

What I didn't realize at the time was that when I opened my fist and let go, I was letting go of a whole lot more than my relationship with Scott. All the pain and the hurt and the anger that I'd been feeling--it was like a great tidal wave swept through my life. I found myself stripped of everything I had been clinging to for longer than I care to admit. All my pretenses, all my dreams, my whole idea of my reality. All that was left is...me. The real me. The past few weeks really forced me to start new. It hurts like hell--I feel completely naked. I am questioning everything--my job, going to culinary school, my blog, my relationships with other people, my idea of my true calling, my true self. Everything. It felt--it still feels--like I lost everything. I lost faith in everything I thought I believed in, in everything I thought I knew to be true. I lost faith in myself.

I know--I know--that some of this will come back. My desire to do things like cook and write and love will all come back. I will apply to culinary school, even if I decide not to go this fall. I will start writing again. I will eventually recover faith in myself. My ability to trust again will be the hardest (and likely take the longest) to recover, but I know it will come back. On my rational days, I know these things. But on days when my head feels like a bleak foreign place, it's a lot harder to remember this. On those days, I fear my ability to tell the good from the bad, the healthy from the unhealthy. I feel so distanced from myself and my own needs that it feels safest to block out everything and everyone.

I do know beyond all doubts that things will be different. I cannot go back to the way I was. I don't want to and I can't. Even you, some of my closest friends and family, may not have known how lost and divided I felt within myself. That post back in February (HERE) barely scratched the surface, honestly. I wanted to believe so badly that everything was ok. I wanted so desperately to truly be the person I was trying to be--that image of myself was so...appealing and perfect. But it just wasn't me. These past few weeks, by talking with friends and working with a therapist (yes, I started seeing a therapist) and just...sitting quietly with myself, I've only just started to understand how all of this came to be and how I can move forward. It's a start.

I think this blog has been one of those places where I tried to cling to this...idea of myself. It's been a good place--I love this blog! But I also think that it's become a place where I could avoid facing some real issues and keep pretending like this strong, peppy, 'together' person was the real me. That person is/was really just a part of the real me, and I think I'd like to start getting to know some of the other parts of the real me. Don't worry--I'm not about to let this blog become one of those confessional tell-alls. Lord knows there's enough of those out there. I still want it to be the same blog--about food and books and knitting. It's just...I want it to be written by me. The real me. And not the person I was trying to be. This won't be easy, I think, or happen right away. I hope you'll all stick around and see where this goes with me.

Scott and I started talking again a week or so ago. I thought about not telling you this bit, but it felt dishonest to leave it out. We miss each other. I miss him. Specifically him. There is still a lot of love there. We're talking. We don't have a plan. Neither of us wants the old relationship back. Neither of us has an idea of the future. It's enough right now to just be walking beside each other in this foreign landscape and speaking the same language.

The hardest thing for me right now is not knowing. Not knowing the shape or parameters of this new relationship with Scott or the direction of my own life or where to trust or having a plan (any plan at all) or being in control. This is a real challenge for me. I've done a lot of thinking about the idea of 'living in the now', but it wasn't until this point in my life that I truly understood what that meant. When I try to see into the future or make plans, it's like trying to touch smoke. All I have is right now. That's all I can do. And I think that's enough.

Other Points of Vu

Déjà vu. The subtle, recurring confusion between illusion and reality that was characteristic of paramnesia fascinated the chaplain, and he knew a number of things about it. He knew, for example, that it was called paramnesia, and he was interested as well in such corollary optical phenomena as jamais vu, never seen, and presque vu, almost seen. There were terrifying, sudden moment when objects, concepts and even people that the chaplain had lived with almost all of his life inexplicably took on an unfamiliar and irregular aspect that he had never seen before and which made them seem totally strange: jamais vu. And there were moments when he almost saw absolute truth in brilliant flashes of clarity that almost came to him: presque vu.

-Joseph Heller, Catch-22

I have to admit that I've never managed to finish--or even really start--Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. Fortunately for me, my high school boyfriend did read it, and he found for us this passage that seemed to so perfectly describe the predicament of being a teenager that we scribbled it in all our notebooks, inside each other's lockers, on the bottoms of our shoes when we were bored in classes, any surface that seemed to call out for words of significance.

High school and the particular anxiety of being a teenager fades after a while, but this quote has stayed with me. I think about it often--probably more often than I realize in my conscious mind. I'm on the bus with my bags piled against my chest and the window fogged and it's warm and I'm tired and I drift a bit only to snap suddenly, terribly awake with my heart hammering and strange faces not looking at me and feeling that the bus is passing these strange buildings too quickly and for that single moment in time, I know with perfect certainty that I will be lost forever. I think, jamais vu.

Or take this past weekend--I was in Minnesota for a little parental TLC and to celebrate my birthday and proudly watch my brother rule the stage as McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. On Friday afternoon, my mom and I walked the dog through the Carleton College Arboretum. The sky was so wide and so blue and the dry prairie grass whispered and hushed itself in the spring breeze. We spoke of how we create meaning in our lives, living with uncertainty, and Buddhism. At the top of a hill, we both stopped talking at the same time and heard mourning doves calling to each other in the newly-green trees. I thought, presque vu.

Please. Please. Presque vu. Let me see just a little further. Just a little more clearly. I'm almost there.

First Signs of Spring

The sun was so shiny this morning that immediately upon waking, I flung open all the windows and opened the back door wide, letting in all the fresh air and sunshine I could. Last November when I was cleaning up my little container garden and making everything tidy for winter, there was one stubborn pot of zinneas and snap dragons that just refused to give in to the cold weather and kept popping out new flowers. I decided to let well enough alone and enjoyed the view of these hardy few blossoms through my kitchen window well into December. It was so cold by that point that I never got around to cleaning the dead stems from the pot.

This morning I decided that I was well past due for this particular task--especially since I need to soon start planning more wee little seedlings--and went at it with gusto. I yanked out the dry brittle stalks and rubbed grains of warm, damp soil between my fingers. Task completed, I was patting the soil dreamily with visions of bounty to come when I noticed a little fleck of green off to one side. Closer inspection revealed one tiny zinnea seedling, an ungerminated leftover from last year who somehow knew it would have a very important role to play on this April morning. I sighed with contentment and said a little prayer in thanks of unexpected beauty. New growth from old growth--I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere, but for now I will simply stroke its leaves with my fingertip and murmur praises in its lime green ears.

Food: Reunited with Old Friends and a Brief Parting

This is a short little post (though like so many of my posts, it will likely ramble on beyond what could technically be called "short") to let you know that I may be a bit sparse with my postings for the next few weeks. There are a lot of things swirling around in my life right now to which I need to give some attention. I just need wait and see what the view is like when the dust settles. In any case, never fear; I will return with tales of what I've been up to and recipes and musings in short order. This blog has become a home to me and you always come back home eventually.

Until then, please content yourself with the following Artifacts of Comfort and Joy. At least they bring comfort and joy to me if only because they wander into my life so rarely these days.

Nutcracker Sweet Tea is hands down one of my favorite teas ever, and believe me, I've tried a lot of teas in my day. I usually find the teas made by Celestial Seasonings to be a bit...'too much.' Too sweet, too pungent, too...zingy. Despite these experiences, I was lured in by the description of black tea with vanilla extract and cinnamon--so many of my favorite flavors. And indeed, it is a basic traditional black tea smoothed with a subtle taste of vanilla, a pleasing nuttiness, and just a touch of cinnamon. It's also one of the rare times when a beverage tastes just as good as it smells--I could happily sit here typing away and inhaling the scent of this tea for hours, taking little sips when the mood struck. I drink it black, but it would probably be grand with milk. A word of caution, be sure to remove the tea bag after about 5 minutes or the tea gets too bitter.

Since Nutcracker Sweet is from their "Holiday Tea" line, it's only available during the holiday season. Once I fell in love with it, spotting the first boxes in the grocery store became my personal sign that the holiday season had officially begun. A few years back, I realized that if I stocked up right at the end of the season, I could just stretch my boxes through the spring and summer until the next holiday season rolled around. I did this with a bit of trepidation that the magic and delight of this tea would wear off if it became an everyday commodity, but there was nothing to fear. Love knows no holiday season.

Unfortunately, the past two years, these boxes of Nutcracker Sweet have been even more scarce than usual. Last year, I didn't see any being sold in stores until after Christmas and I was barely able to stock enough boxes to last me through April. This year, I didn't see any at all. I'd been toying with the idea of actually going to the Celestial Seasonings website and ordering a case of the tea (Love, folks, this is love) when I spotted two dusty, lonely boxes sitting discarded on the very bottom of the discount shelf last week at my co-op. Last week! As in April. As in not at all close to the holidays. Where these boxes came from and how long they'd been in the stock room, I have no idea (and I don't really want to know). I'd been checking the shelves of this co-op regularly for months (a few other favorite bagged teas of mine have recently disappeared from shelves, but that's another post), and never saw Nutcracker Sweet in stock. You can be sure I grabbed these two right up, went straight home, and brewed myself a fresh cup. Ahh....Love.

And the other week, a second reunion was celebrated in my kitchen when a friend brought back two bricks of Smoked Cheddar Tillamook Cheese from her recent trip to Portland, Oregon. When the Engineer and I lived in Portland, we put this stuff in EVERYTHING. In fact, I can't think of a single dish we regularly ate that a healthy handful of Smoked Cheddar Cheese wouldn't make better. Eggs? Check. Pizza? Check. Annie's Mac and Cheese? Check. Stale crackers? Double check. Tillamook Cheese is an Oregon icon. It's fun to wander around their website HERE and a stop to wander around their visitor center, licking fresh ice cream and nibbling on squeaky cheese (cheese curds that literally squeak between your teeth when you bite down) was a requisite part of any trip to the Oregon coast. If you're in the area, I highly recommend stopping by.

This smoked cheddar cheese has a sharply cheddar bite and is literally infused with the hardwood smoke for a truly unique cheese experience. Every bite is like sitting around a campfire. These two bricks are literally and figuratively gold! (That's my one Pun o' the Post. I'll quit while I'm ahead with that one.)

And if you manage to get your hands on some Tillamook Smoked Cheddar, one possible manifestation of your riches could be in the form of my For-Real Sandwich Loaf.
My thought behind this loaf was to take the sandwich prep out of...um...making a sandwich, and just put all the typical sandwich ingredients in the loaf. That way, if I'm crunched for time in the morning because I forgot it was Recycling Day or I fell asleep in the shower completely by accident, I can just cut off a slice and call it lunch.

Dang, I just realized that I never posted my recipe for basic, non-sourdough bread to this blog, which is what I used for this recipe. Oh, well, I'll do an abbreviated version of the recipe here and describe it in detail another time (see what I mean about this post no longer being technically 'short'?!). In any case, if you don't want to use my recipe, or if it's confusing, feel free to use any bread dough you like and just add the cheese, spinach, and sausage when I say to in my instructions. (PS if you don't eat meat, just leave out the sausage and this would make an excellent cheese loaf!)Summer Sausage Cheese Loaf (a.k.a. For-Real Sandwich Loaf)

For the poolish (starter):

1/2 cup (4 oz) water
1/2 tsp dry yeast
3/4 cup (4 oz) flour

In a medium sized bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water, add the flour, and mix these all together really well--about 100 strokes. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit on your counter overnight or about 12 hours. It will rise and fall, but ultimately it will about double in size and the surface will look really bubbly.

For the bread dough:

2 1/2 cups (20 oz) water
1/2 tsp dry yeast
5-6 cups (26-31 oz) flour
1 Tablespoon sea salt
1-2 cup spinach
3 c cheese, shredded (alternatively, shred half and cut the other half into strips. Add the strips at the same time you add the sausage)
2 10-oz summer sausages (or chorizo, un-cut salami, or any other hard sausage)--cut into long strips

Dissolve the yeast in the water. Add the poolish and mix until slightly frothy. Add in enough flour until the dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl. Turn out onto a floured surface and knead for a few minutes just to bring the dough together. Cover with the upturned bowl and let rest for 10 minutes.

Create a well in the center of the dough and add 1/3 of the salt. Fold the dough on itself and add another 1/3 of the salt. Fold again and add the last of the salt. Knead dough for 10 minutes. Cover with the upturned bowl and let sit for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, clean the spinach and cut it into small pieces about the size of your thumb. Steam it slightly (I microwaved it on High for about 30 seconds). You want it wilted, but not complete mush.

Knead the dough for about 5 minutes more. As with the salt, add the cheese and spinach in batches and knead until they are evenly spread throughout the dough. The dough will get a bit wet and you might have to add more flour than normal. It's ok if it feels a bit wet, but it shouldn't be sticky or gummy to your hands.

Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and allow to rise for about two hours or until doubled in size.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface without deflating it. Divide it into two pieces and set aside one piece. Pat the remaining piece into a long rectangle with the shorter end closest to you (in other words, lay the rectangle out like a portrait rather than a landscape image). Lay half of the sausage strips like rungs on a ladder across the width of the dough. Lightly press the strips into the dough. Roll the dough away from you, making sure that the strips stay positioned so that they roll up in a spiral rather than all clumped together. Place loaf in an oiled loaf pan. Repeat with second half of the dough.

Allow dough to rise until the surface of the dough just clears the rim of the loaf pan--about an hour. Preheat the oven to 450-degrees. When the loaves are ready, pat the surface with a bit of flour and cut three diagonal slashes about 1/2 inch deep. Spray the tops with water and put in oven. During the first five minutes of baking, quickly spray water a few times into the interior of the oven and on the surface of the loaves. Bake for 20 minutes and reduce heat to 400-degrees. Bake for another 20 minutes until the surface is a nice caramelized golden color and the loaves sound hollow when thumped on the bottom.

Let cool and enjoy! Slices are best when toasted.

Books: Kurt Vonnegut Dies at 84

Say it ain't so! Hearing this news this morning made me genuinely sad, an ache beneath my breastbone. I read all his books during those oh-so-tender high school years and really felt like they became a part of who I am now, ya know? His irreverence and sarcasm and quirky perspectives on reality gave me permission, in a sense, to be irreverent and sarcastic and quirky myself. A fundamental part of my spirituality is an idea I first discovered in his book Breakfast of Champions: the belief that at the core, people are unwavering bands of light. Even my use of the term "noodle factory" to refer to the company I work for is not-so-subtly lifted from Kurt Vonnegut's word for libraries. The more I think back on it now, the more I realize how fundamental Vonnegut's books were in shaping the person who I became.

This is kind of like hearing that an old friend has died. Which I suppose is kinda how it is.

http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/us/AP-Obit-Vonnegut.html

Beverage Review: Jones Soda Takes the Turkey

Oh, Jones Soda, how I miss thee! When the Engineer and I were living in Portland, Oregon, we didn't have the luxury of a washer and dryer in our apartment building like we do now. Every week along with all the other unluckies within a five block radius, we participated in a weekly neighborhood pilgrimage to the friendly neighborhood laundromat. For those of you who haven't had this experience or for whom that experience is but a distant memory, let me tell you that there is absolutely nothing romantic about the laundromat: the cracking faux-wood paneling on the walls, the act of inspecting your unmentionables in front of a handful of pajama-clad strangers, the brittle fly carcasses gathered at the bottom of the light fixtures, the gritty yellow lighting itself, the inevitable fight to secure neighboring washers and then again to secure neighboring dryers--and not just any washers and dryers but the 'good' washers and dryers (you come to know which ones those are). And lets not even discuss the bathroom.

Needless to say, Laundry Day was not something that the Engineer and I looked forward to. There were heated "discussions" over whether or not Laundry Day was actually necessary in a given week, complex systems of barter and trade if one or the other of us wanted to opt out of Laundry Day for whatever reason, and incredibly competitive games of rock-paper-scissors over who's turn it was to scour the apartment for spare change. But Jones Soda changed everything.

Jones Soda Co. (link HERE) is a Seattle-based juice and soft drink company famous for their wacky and unexpected flavors like Berry White, D'Peach Mode, Crushed Melon, and Pineapple Upside Down Cake. They're kind of like the Jelly Belly Jelly Beans of the beverage world. Some of their flavors are incredible and some of them really fall flat (like those I discuss below). The imaginative "family" photographs on their labels, the not-your-average-chinese-fortunes under the cap, and under-the-radar marketing campaign make this the soft drink of choice for Northwest hipsters. (I also want to note that as of January 2007, Jones Soda is switching their juice and soda lines from using high fructose corn syrup to pure cane syrup, an incredibly laudable endeavor. Read about it HERE.)

And one fine spring day, the Engineer and I discovered that the dingy convenience store next to the dingy laundromat was actually a mecca for all our favorite Jones Soda flavors. It became a ritual for us to arrive at the laundromat, stake out claims on washers, get the washers going, stake out claims on one of the folding tables, snag two folding chairs, and then send an emissary next door with our leftover pocket change. We would clink bottles, settle in with books and trashy magazines and knitting, and not speak until the spin-cycle was complete. Laundry Day was still a chore, for certain, but Jones Soda, you certainly took the edge off.

Except for a few national chains like Panera and Target, Jones Soda isn't widely distributed out of the Northwest, so I've been a bit deprived. Perhaps this is what led me to impulsively purchase the Jones Soda 2006 Holiday Pack when I spotted it with the post-Christmas sale items at Target when I was home over Christmas. Yes, I purchased it despite the fact that there were a suspicious number of 2006 Holiday Packs still available, and they were all in the back of the bottom shelf in the deepest hidden corner of the store. And I purchased it despite the fact that the 2006 Holiday Pack was on the "What Not To Buy Me For Christmas" list put out by the Restaurant Guys. I even purchased it despite my own better judgment. Like I said, I had been Jones Soda deprived for several years. And I was rilly buying it for my brother, another Jones Junkie. (Really.) And it was $5. And how awful could turkey flavored soda be, anyways?

My little bro doling out the 'tastings'

Here's the rundown of the sodas in the pack:
Turkey and Gravy Soda
Sweet Potato Soda
Dinner Roll Soda
Pea Soda
Antacid Flavored Soda

There was just something so charmingly Willy Wonka about this whole endeavor. We decided to taste the sodas in the order they are arranged in the box because it seemed to make sense in terms of taste-progression. Up first, Turkey and Gravy Soda!


Verdict: horrible. Apparently turkey and gravy flavored soda can be pretty awful. It really did taste like turkey and gravy. Except carbonated. It was gross. We soldiered through the other flavors, willing to believe that there must be ONE of them that tasted good. The sweet potato had the most potential, but again. It turns out that liquid carbonated sweet potato with a hint of marshmallow is pretty disgusting.

Here's a play-by-play of my mother enjoying her final liquid refreshment "antacid" in this five-course tasting menu:

Hmmm...antacid. It's pink. It's bubbly. Could be good.

She's thinking about it...

She's going for it...

Um, yeah. Again, antacid? Not a good flavor for soda.

The final verdict on these Wacky Fun Holiday Packs? Buy them only when they're on sale...as a gag gift...knowing that you really will be gagging. Fun for the whole family!

On the other hand, if you see any other flavors of Jones Soda, don't let the Holiday Pack deter you. Snap them up and give them a try! (Barry White is my hands down favorite.)

Swiss Chard and Better-Late-Than-Never Scarves: A Kitchen-Sink Post

Hi, folks!

Spring time has me all a flutter over here in Northeastern parts. I've been jealously devouring all the posts from the Northwest bloggers, what with their pictures of flowering trees and their getting-gardens-ready-for-planting. Oh, and the fact that they already have spring produce at their farmers markets. But then just today, I saw the first crocuses blooming around a still-nekkid tree over on Tremont Street. Oh, did my heart twinge with joy. I. Can't. Wait.

Some of you may remember my garden from last year. It was a bit of a disappointment for my first back-porch garden, so I thought I'd scale back a bit this year and start with a fresh perspective on the whole she-bang. First off, I'm scrapping the veggies for the time being. It's just not feasible in my little container garden and I feel really happy about buying produce from my farmer's market, so we'll leave that until I have an actual garden. Or a job that allows me to devote more time to caring for veggies.

I bought a whole mess of flower seeds that I'm planning on scattering willy-nilly in several of my containers. We'll see what pops up with those. Theoretically, I should have already started seedlings or at least (I think) scattered the seeds last fall, but...well...meh? I'll be happy with whatever little flowers decide to poke their faces up at me.

And then (here's my Smartest Move Yet!), I ordered actual seedlings of several different culinary herbs that will magically, miraculously, oh-so-perfectly arrive at my doorstep just when they should be planted in the garden. So wonderful. So perfect. And even so affordable! I think I'm getting six different herbs for about $17. I can't WAIT for fresh herbs again. The more I've gotten into cooking this past fall, the more I've been learning and discovering new ways to use herbs. I didn't feel like I really took advantage of the herbs I grew last summer because I honestly didn't know how to use them--unless a recipe called for a specific herb, I didn't think to try adding anything different. This summer? A whole new kinda Emma, just you wait!

Ok, a few updates:1) I have finally finished Stephen's scarf. I custom knit some Urban Mitts (a.k.a. the Aid-and-Abet Smoker's Gloves) for Stephen last fall (link HERE) and apparently at some point agreed to throw in a hat and scarf with the leftover yarn. I don't actually recall this conversation, but Stephen was quite insistent that it did, indeed, occur. I have my doubts, but nonetheless, I did have leftover yarn and so...why not?! Well, other projects struck my fancy and with this and that, I didn't get around to finishing this scarf until a few weeks ago, just as the weather started to turn. I call it "Stephen's About-Time Scarf" and used the My So-Called Scarf pattern from Sheep in the City (link HERE). I love love love with a cherry on top and a few extra dollops of creme fraiche this pattern. It was fun to knit--never boring--and I felt very accomplished to have mastered the stitch (it's not actually that hard, but it looks that hard--the best of both worlds). The resulting fabric is kind of squishy or spongy, kind of like the waffle-weave on thermal shirts and absolutely perfect for a cozy scarf. I also have dreams of a cardigan in this stitch, but I'm afraid that will have to remain in Knitted Dream Land for a few more months. I knit this scarf length-wise because I was worried about running out of yarn (which I did. I even used all my little tail-scraps to finish binding off the last row! But look how symmetrical I got the stripes to be!). Oh, and a hat? Did I agree to a hat? I don't remember a hat...*Note to anyone out there thinking of commissioning some great knit good from me--I'm more than happy to do it, but don't expect anything in a timely manner. True art takes time, don't ya know. But wine and a steady supply of Top Chef DVDs will also help get the job done. Just sayin'.

2) The next book in the Keys To The Kingdom series by Garth Nix is out and in stores! It's called Lady Friday and picks up the story of our intrepid young hero, Arthur, just as he has taken the fourth key. Unlike the other books in the series which wrapped up the individual book with minimal cliffhangers, the recent book (Sir Thursday) ended practically mid-sentence. I believe I may have gasped when I turned the page and saw that the book just...just...ended! So it is with much delight that I anticipate reading this fifth book. Stay tuned, fellow lovers of young adult fantasy!

3) And last but not least, I leave you with the recipe and mouth watering pictures for my new favorite comfort food: Polenta with Parmesan and Olive Oil Fried Eggs and Garlicky Swiss Chard. Mmm, mmm...good. If only I had a few black truffles to shave on top, this dish would take no prisoners. All the flavors combine so perfectly--especially the creamy polenta, the runny yoke, and the crispy edges. I'm a huge fan of wilted greens, their bitter flavor and slight chew make a great contrast to the egg and polenta. I would like to point out that this simple dish combines every flavor profile: sweet, salty, bitter, sour, and umami.

This dish comes courtesy of the New York Times and their article "A Morning Meal Begs to Stay Up Late," published 2/7/07. (Click HERE for the article--though it may be content protected) I have made a few adaptations from the original recipe.

Polenta with Parmesan and Olive Oil Fried Eggs
Yield--four servings

*Note: This recipe for polenta makes the best polenta I've ever made--very creamy and smooth. It makes several cups, so I usually pour the leftovers into a bread loaf pan, cover with saran wrap, and let set. You can then cut off blocks of polenta as needed from the 'loaf.'

4 1/2 cups broth or water (I use half chicken broth and half water--all chicken broth makes the polenta taste a bit 'tinned,' in my opinion)
1 1/2 cups polenta (not quick-cooking), course corn meal, or corn grits. (I use Goya brand corn meal)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 1-oz chunk of Parmesan cheese
2 Tablespoons olive oil
8 large eggs (or 1-2 eggs per person)
course sea salt for garnish

1. In a large pot, bring broth/water to a simmer (not boil). Gently shake in the corn meal a bit at a time and add salt. Simmer, stirring as frequently as your arm muscles can stand, until it thickens to taste--between 10 and 20 minutes. Cover pot to keep warm.

*If making the chard as well, start the chard wilting now.

2. Using a vegetable peeler, shave the cheese into slivers. Alternately, grate it on the largest hole of a box grater.

3. In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil until very hot. Fry 4 eggs at a time until edges are crispy and the yokes are still runny. Repeat with remaining oil and eggs.

4. Pile polenta into 4 bowls and top with first the cheese and then the fried eggs. Garnish with sea salt.

Garlicky Swiss Chard
(if serving with polenta and fried eggs, cut the chard before starting any cooking and then start wilting the chard after the polenta has finished cooking.)

2 bunches of Swiss chard, stems removed (You could really use any leafy green, here. I think I might have actually used collard greens by mistake, and it was still delish.)
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
Large pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
Juice from one half squeeze lemon
Salt to taste.

1. Stack chard leaves on top of one another (you can make several piles), and slice them into 1/4-inch strips

2. Heat oil in a very large skilled. Add garlic and red pepper flakes, and saute for about 30 seconds, until the garlic is fragrant. Stir in the chard, turning to coat with oil. Cover pan and let cook for about 2 minutes until chard is wilted. Uncover, stir, and cook for 2 minutes longer.

Serve alongside the polenta with fried egg, and squeeze a bit of lemon juice over the top just before serving.

Weight Watchers Points: One egg, a half cup of polenta, a few shavings of Parmesan, and as much chard as you want will equal about 5 points.