Monkey Bread

Monday, May 30, 2006
I've been thinking about baking this monkey bread for a couple of weeks, but it looked very rich, sweet, buttery, and caloric. Not that these are bad things, but I am going to try to get in a bathing suit in a few weeks. I finally decided that I'd bake it and take it into work, where all food gets devoured.
I started baking the monkey bread on Memorial Day, when Minneapolis was having record hot temperatures, and my kitchen is not air-conditioned. Jim asked me if I was really planning to turn on the oven when it was 97 degrees outside. His tone of voice led me to believe that I should not say yes.
So I whipped up the dough yesterday (I had to move it closer to the air conditioner after I noticed that it was rising before my very eyes in the 100-degree kitchen). Then I shaped the balls, rolled them in butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon (a half-pound of butter! See what I mean about rich, sweet, buttery, and caloric?), strewed them with raisins and pecans and put the whole thing in the refrigerator.
When I got up this morning, it was ready to bake. What a heavenly smell! I took it into work and sent out an email announcing the presence of monkey bread in the lunch room and telling people not to ask me why it was called monkey bread because I didn't know). They asked me anyway. My friend Susan said she loved the bread but she didn't want to call it monkey bread. She said she'd call it Ho Chi Minh bread because Ho Chi Minh supposedly worked as an apprentice baker at the Ritz-Carlton or someplace when he lived in London. This doesn't make any sense, and the Ho Chi Minh baking story is undoubtedly a myth, but that's how Susan's mind works. And not only did we finish the Monkey/Ho Chi Minh bread, but we also ate a box of doughnuts that Tony brought in because he won three cases in May, as well as two frozen custard pies, a strawberry-rhubarb pie, a lemon poppyseed cake, and cupcakes that various people brought in to celebrate all the May birthdays (of which mine was one, by the way).
Also, several people asked me if I made the bread with Pillsbury dough, a suggestion that offended Susan more than it offended me. ("Why don't you ask her if she gardens with plastic flowers?")
Did I get around to saying that this bread is fabulous? It is not really a bread in the staff-of-life sense, however. I was extremely happy that I took it into work because I could see it as a real possibility that one could just sort of pick at this bread all day and end up having consumed many thousands of calories without even trying.

Sourdough Rye

May 22-27, 2006
After being assured that it was not cheating to order sourdough starter instead of making my own, I ordered two different starters from sourdo.com .
I was very taken with the description of a New Zealand sourdough which a woman named Christy Dowling "captured" in Rotorua. I got a mental picture of a woman in a bonnet and a butterfly net scampering through fields trying to capture this culture. I also liked this one because it was supposed to be easy for beginners. And if I ordered the Rotorua sourdough, I also got another New Zealand culture--one for rye breads.
When I got the packages in the mail, I decided I shouldn't have worried about cheating. I had somehow thought that the cultures would arrive all ready to put in my mixing bowl and they'd activate automatically. But they're dried, and they have to be activated and fed with flour and water, just as if you were making your own.
I managed to lose the directions that came with the yeast, but the people at sourdo.com emailed me an abbreviated set, and I got more on the internet. The instructions are basically to add water and flour at certain intervals until it's bubbly and ready. What "ready" means is not totally obvious to a novice, but at some point, I decided it was ready enough, and then I could switch over to Rose's sourdough rye recipe, which has much more detailed instructions.
As I fed the starter, I didn't feel entirely comfortable with the whole process. It smelled a little weird, for one thing, and I didn't know if I'd be able to smell the difference between a normal tangy smell and a rotten bacteria-ridden one. As I was fretting about this at work, my friend Susan asked me if I'd ever heard of anyone dying from bad sourdough. I admitted that I hadn't, and feeling that I wasn't going to kill off my entire family with bad sourdough comforted me quite a bit.
Finally, on Thursday night I gave the starter its first and second feedings (it really does have a voracious appetite; it reminds me of Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors) and put it in the refrigerator overnight.
On Friday, I came home early from work hoping to turn out a loaf of bread for dinner. Oh, but I should have read more carefully. The recipe calls for mixing the dough, followed by a one-hour rise, followed by another one-hour rise, followed by a 3-5 hour rise, followed by another 3-5 hour rise, followed by baking. Rough calculation--I should be able to take the bread out of the oven around 3:00 a.m. Fortunately, Little Audrey turned out to be downright fervent about expanding, and she doubled in less time than she was supposed to, so I was able to put her in the oven around 10:00. (That is, I put IT in the oven, not her.) And it was done about 45 minutes later. (Yes, there was a time in my life when Friday nights meant something other than bake bread and try to go to bed early. But for everything there is a season, and this is my bread-baking season).
I couldn't wrap it up because it was still hot, and I was afraid that if I left it in the kitchen, it would be nibbled on by mice during the night. Jim pointed out, logically enough, that we didn't have mice. Still, once I'd thought of the possibility of hungry mice partying on the bread it had taken me a week to make, I couldn't just ignore it, so I brought the bread up to our bedroom, where it would be safe.
When I woke up, I knew that I was going to be able to eat sourdough rye for breakfast. I rounded it off with vanilla yogurt and blueberries, orange juice, and good, strong coffee. This is a bread was worth waiting for. It's chewy and flavorful and not too sour for my taste.



It made a big loaf of bread, so I gave half of it to our neighbors who love rye bread and told them to compare it to the original caraway rye bread I gave them a few months ago. Next to baking the bread and eating it yourself, sharing it is very satisfying.
Here's my question, though: I have two jars of starter left in the refrigerator. Do I have to keep feeding at least one of them to the end of time? Is once a week enough?

Basic Soft White Sandwich Bread

Saturday, May 20, 2006
This is the kind of bread that my mother and grandmothers made when they made "homemade bread." Simple, basic, white bread. The kind you don't eat any more because it's not a complex carbohydrate and it doesn't have enough fiber to satisfy the dietary police. Still, it's awfully good, especially when it's cooled just enough to slice and spread a little butter on it.
I made open-faced sandwiches for dinner: toast the bread, spread with tapenade and sliced smoked mozzarella. Broil until the cheese is starting to turn brown and bubbly, and top with roasted red pepper strips. It's a nice marriage of old-fashioned bread like Mom made and three foods she had never heard of when she baked her bread.

Butter Biscuits

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Jim and I had a small tiff about the strawberry shortcake. I said I wanted it for dessert on Mother's Day, and he said, "You shouldn't have to make your own dessert on Mother's Day!" And so on.
But he finally allowed as how he wasn't going to bake the biscuits, so he guessed it was okay if I did.
Sarah, who is supposedly on a diet (kind of like the diet I'm on, actually), nearly swooned with delight: "This is the best strawberry shortcake I've ever had in my life!!!" (She said it with three exclamation points, too--maybe even four). The biscuits were wonderful--so tender that any Southern cook would be jealous, slightly crisp and sugary on top, but not too sweet. This is the strawberry shortcake that explains why this is actually a wonderful dessert if it's not made with soggy store-bought sponge cakes and Cool Whip. (My family accuses me of being a food snob, but really, if you prefer the sponge cake shortcake, there's just no hope for you).

Tyrolean Ten-Grain Torpedo

Saturday, May 13, 2006
First of all, I have to admit that this is not a ten-grain torpedo; it's a six-grain. I couldn't find a ten-grain cereal mix, but I had a five-grain mix, and I added polenta as the sixth grain. The suggested pumpkin seeds sounded good, but not good enough for me to go out on a rainy night and try to find them.
Jim and I are going to a party tonight, and I volunteered to bring something to eat. Jim suggested that as long as I was baking bread, why not just bring that. It was very practical advice, but I'm afraid that if I don't make a move on the bread right after I arrive, other, less deserving, people will eat it before I get to sample it. I decided I could foil them by bringing it unsliced and then taking a piece for myself as soon as I slice it. If nobody but me eats it, I'll be offended too.
Four hours later:
The bread was eaten, so I am not offended. I also had a slice, and it was delicious, even minus four grains. This could easily become my daily bread. The grains add enough texture to make the bread interesting, and they make the flavor more complex. The light dusting of rye flour makes the bread very attractive--even more attractive than in the photo.

Swedish Limpa Bread

Tuesday, May 9, 2006
It was my turn to bring bread to book club tonight, so I decided to make a Swedish bread in Minneapolis, this very Swedish city. I had doubts about the limpa bread when I mixed it--the combination of molasses, ale, and aniseed seemed odd. In fact, it smelled downright nasty. I didn't like the smell, or the texture, or the color. I really liked nothing at all about this bread. In addition, I undercooked it (in my very unreliable oven, which I hope to replace soon), and ended up returning it to the oven after I checked its temperature. I muttered to myself about how I shouldn't expect anything from a Swedish bread since this is, after all, the land that brought us lutefisk, but I should have had more faith. In fact, the flavor of this bread turns out to be intriguing rather than nasty, and the texture light and solid at the same time. Tomorrow I'll try it toasted for breakfast, but it's a fine dinner bread with nothing more than a slather of butter.

Big Banana Muffins

Sunday, May 7, 2006
Wow--it is so fast and easy to make quick breads! I decided it was time for another non-yeast bread, because I hadn't checked anything off from that section of the book for quite a while, but I'd forgotten how quickly you can whip up a batter that doesn't have to rest and rise. (Perhaps that's why they call them quick breads, O Master of the Obvious.)
If you're thinking that these muffins aren't very big, you're right. The recipe says to bake them in a Texas-size pan, but I only had about a Nebraska-sized one. Anyway, I have an unreasonable bias against anything Texan, although, given our current administration, perhaps the bias isn't unreasonable. Although if the muffin pans were named after Texans Molly Ivins or Jim Hightower, I'd probably run out and buy one or two.
Back to the matter at hand--although these muffins were not big in size, they were big in taste. Their texture is quite delicate, but the lone banana packs quite a flavor punch, assisted by the toasted walnuts. (The recipe doesn't say how long to toast them, but I toasted mine the amount of time it took me to forget they were in the oven, which happened to be, fortunately, about 30 seconds before they started to burn).
If I'd made more, I could have given some away. I suppose I could have given some away anyhow, but then I wouldn't have very many left to eat myself.

Brioche

Thursday, May 4, 2006
I include this picture just to prove that I don't only talk about my successes. The topknot of this brioche was not exactly on top. First Sarah told me that it was "charmingly askew." Then, after it continued to tilt as it baked, she told me it was more like a monster child you've given birth to but love anyway.
Not only was this loaf aesthetically challenged, it was on the burnt side of normal. However, once I cut off the bottoms and sides of the loaf, I had a slice of delicious crust-less brioche: golden, buttery, and lush. Even though this bread didn't turn out perfectly, I'd like to try it again. I think that it could be spectacular if it didn't list and if I didn't burn it.
I actually started making this bread two days ago. I've gotten to the point where I feel that something is missing if I don't have a loaf of bread ready to eat, or at least in the process of becoming edible, so I started putting this together Tuesday night. I read the directions, but didn't add up the various 1 1/2-hour, 1 hour, and 2 hour segments until I had already started. Then I realized that I'd be up until 3:00 a.m. if I didn't fudge a little. As it was, I finally put the dough in the refrigerator for its two-day rest at midnight. (Having a full-time job really cuts into your bread-baking schedule). I was pleased whenever I looked in the refrigerator and saw the dough, and I was excited when I came home from work and started shaping the bread. Some of my younger friends would (and, in fact, do) scoff at my excitement over baking a loaf of bread. But baking bread has enriched my life so much that I can't understand why everyone isn't nuts about it. Really, if Osama bin Laden were tending to a loaf of brioche in his Pakistan cave, wouldn't he be a friendlier, homier sort?

Golden Semolina Torpedo

Saturday, April 29, 2006
I'll admit this bread is not as photogenic as the Pugliese, but that's only because I ignored Rose's voice. She warns that this bread should be slightly under-proofed, because if it's allowed to rise fully it will collapse when slashed. So I tested it by poking my finger in the dough, and it was at the stage where it was not quite fully proofed. I knew I should put it in the oven, but I wanted to let it get just a little bit bigger, so I decided it should rise for another 15 minutes. And, of course, it collapsed after I slashed it. Rose's voice then said, "I told you so."
This bread was served with the coscia di agnello alle erbe con patate rosto (herb-crusted leg of lamb with roasted potatoes) and with a 2002 Uva di Troia. A wonderful combination, by the way. I was a little apprehensive about the bread, seeing as how it had collapsed and all, but I figured people had had enough wine by that time that they wouldn't be hyper-critical. I didn't have to worry though--this turned out to be one of my favorite breads so far, and everyone loved it. It has a beautiful golden color and a rich yet delicate flavor. I'm already longing to taste this bread again.
Today was the first day I've made two breads at one time. It's very confusing. I kept flipping back and forth between recipes and trying to remember which bread was at which stage. (I also baked a ricotta-pine nut tart for dessert, so the oven was on pretty much all day).
Also, this is the first bread that I've kneaded by hand--maybe that's part of the reason I'm so fond of it.
I'm at 27 loaves of bread after four months--right on target to complete all 82 by the end of December. And then I can make another loaf of golden semolina bread.

Brinna's Pugliese

Saturday, April 29, 2006
I made an Italian feast for eight people today--a feast that required two different loaves of bread; I'll give each of them its own entry because they were both so good that they deserve their own.
The first course was mussels with saffron and mustard broth, served with an Erbaluce. (I've never made mussels before--the whole chore of debearding them and checking their open/closed status always seemed too onerous to me, but these were beardless mussels and almost all of them were closed and open when they were supposed to be). The bread--a flavorful, open-textured, peasanty sort of loaf--was fantastic and perfect to sop up the sauce.
Only one piece of bread was left when I carried away the bowls of shells. And that was left only because of the Minnesota tradition of never taking the last piece of anything.

Low-Risk Sourdough Bread

Saturday, April 22, 2006

There are four recipes in The Bread Bible that scare me: sourdough (because you have to make a starter that could be rife with bacteria), bagels (because you boil them, and who boils bread?), baguette (because there's no way to disguise a bad baguette), and croissants (because they're just scary).
And there are about six different sourdough recipes. Sourdough presents an ethical dilemma. I can buy sourdough starter on line at www.sourdo.com and I'd love to do that. But I'm afraid that if I don't make my own starter, I will get an asterisk, like Barry Bonds, after my record of making all 82 loaves of bread, indicating that I cheated by not making my own sourdough starter but buying it through the internet. I told a friend my dilemma, and she pointed out that I didn't mill my own flour, and that didn't seem to bother me. That cheered me up some, but I was still relieved to see that Rose has two sourdough recipes that call for a starter from The Bakers Catalogue. Now I can make these two breads before I have to make a final decision on my dilemma.
In fact, this bread was very low-risk, and very delicious. If I could buy this loaf of bread, I would.
By the way, I used my new French slashing knife, and it worked much better than my old knife.

Pullman Loaf (Pain de Mie)

Monday, April 17, 2006
I know that I've become bread-crazed when the first thing I did when I got home from the airport--before even unpacking--was to start mixing up a loaf of bread. I was in Seattle, a city that has many wonderful artisan bakeries. In fact, I had a ham sandwich for lunch from Grand Central Bakery that was so perfect that I talked about it for days; eventually Jim had to put a ban on any further mention of the ham sandwich. Then we went to Chicago and stayed at the Sofitel, where we had a basket of breads and pastries every morning. Every time I ate a croissant or a baguette, I wanted to start baking.
So, when I got home from Chicago, I pulled out the pullman loaf pan I bought on E-bay (at half the cost of a new pan), and started putting together the bread. This must be the easiest loaf of bread so far. It's got a whole tablespoon of yeast in it, so it rises so enthusiastically you have to keep your eye on it lest it take over the kitchen. I don't know what happened--since I got my scale the doughs have been perfect. This one, however, was way too sticky and moist, but I just added more flour (a lot more flour) until it seemed right. (At least this time I had enough sense to realize it wasn't right and to fix it instead of blindly going forward, as with the infamous focaccia), and it ended up just fine--a perfectly lovely moist, soft, tender crumb with a sturdy, crunchy brown crust. This is still another bread that I wouldn't have made if I hadn't undertaken the 82-Loaf Vow. I've bought a pullman loaf from the store and a more boring loaf of bread I've never seen, but this buttery, fine-crumbed bread is not at all boring.

Butter Popovers

Sunday, April 9, 2006

Why have I never made popovers before? I always thought they were hard, but they're not at all. They behaved exactly as they were supposed to, and they were a delightful dinner roll for Sarah's birthday dinner, along with grilled salmon with wilted basil and mint sauce and asparagus salad with capers, olives, and goat cheese. A perfect spring dinner.
Actually, there is a perfectly logical reason for never having made popovers before--the lack of a popover pan. If you think a popover pan costs, say, $4.99, you are wrong. This pan is just one in a string of expenditures. I can see that baking is going to be a lot like gardening in the money department. You think you're going to plant a couple of packages of seeds, buy a few perennials, fill in with some petunias. And then you start digging out more grass, lusting after $85 tree peonies, scorning petunias. Before you know it, you're spending so much money you can never afford to retire.
I'm off to Seattle tomorrow, and then to Chicago for Easter weekend, so I'll have a long bread-making hiatus.

Mediterranean Matzoh

Sunday, April 9, 2006

I'm making a birthday dinner for Sarah. I told her I wanted to make popovers and I'd also make some matzoh to eat with hummus and cheese as an appetizer. Two non-yeast breads! Just three months ago, that would have been a relief. Now I love the long, slow process of yeast dough. There's the initial suspense--is this really going to work again, or will it just sit there this time? Then the miraculous change in texture, the feel of the dough in your hands, and the amazing smells.
But the matzoh was an interesting change of pace. Matzoh wasn't a part of my heritage, and the few times I've tasted it, I thought it was pretty boring. Kind of like lefse, which is also not part of my heritage, also beloved by many, and also boring.
This matzoh, with chopped fresh rosemary and plenty of olive oil, is oddly addictive. On first bite, it was a disappointment--despite the rosemary and olive oil, it seemed bland. Then I realized I wanted a second bite, and a third--just to test it, I said to myself. Now, as I'm sitting at my computer, matzoh-less, I have a strong urge to go back down to the kitchen and finish the rest of the big wafer. Fortunately, I'm able to restrain myself.

Potato Buttermilk Bread

April 5, 2006
This morning I took the some flaxseed bread out of the freezer for my morning toast, and realized it was the last piece of homemade bread in the house. I would either have to bake a loaf of bread today or have a piece of toast made from storebought bread tomorrow. An easy decision.
I just got the little bag of flour that I ordered from The Baker's Catalogue and still had some leftover buttermilk in the house, so I whipped up the biga for potato buttermilk bread. I left a note for Chelsea, the wonderful woman who cleans my house, asking her to put the biga in the refrigerator. Then I mixed up the dough when I got home from work, let it rise, shaped it, and went off to yoga, with instructions to Jim to preheat the oven at 7:30.
I tempted my friend Karen to come home with me after yoga with the promise of freshly baked bread (although she looked at me like I was a crazy woman when I dumped the ice cubes in the oven). Karen has a gluten intolerance, but was willing to eat the bread just to get a mention in the blog.
This bread, which took a village to make, is excellent. The potato/buttermilk combination makes it moist, tender, and very flavorful. The variation with dill sounds tempting--but I still have 62 more varieties of bread to bake, so there will be no variations until I've baked all 83.
My French slashing knife has not yet arrived, so I've again done an inferior job of slashing, Rose says the single-edged razor blade works best, but I won't resort to that until I try the French slasher.

Alsatian Onion Pizza

Sunday, April 2, 2004
Some of the breads have ended up being dinner because we ate enough of them so that it seemed pretty piggish to eat something else, but this was the first bread that was actually planned as dinner. I've made homemade pizza dough before, and it's always good, but I like thin-crusted pizza the best and I didn't think I could make it at home. This pizza wasn't the prettiest I've ever seen--the crust didn't stretch out to fill my big pizza pan, but it may have been the tastiest one I've made. All the pizza variations sounded good, but I chose the one with lots of caramelized onions, fresh thyme, gruyere cheese, and olives. The woman at the cheese counter at Lunds, who helped me pick out the gruyere, asked me what I was making with it. When I told her, she said it sounded perfect for this chilly, rainy day. She was right.

Walnut Fougasse

April 1, 2006
Fougasse is the French version of focaccia, and, if I'd realized that before I made it, I would have realized I should have rolled it out a little thinner. I think if you knew what a fougasse was supposed to be, you'd look at mine and think, "Hmm, there's something not quite right about that fougasse."
Fortunately, nobody at my house knew anything about what it was supposed to look like, and so they were willing to accept my version as the Platonic ideal of fougasses.
This was a fun dough to work with--very soft and, with all the additions of walnut oil, a little messy. I felt like I was in kindergarten again. Rose suggested pairing it with blue cheese and port. Luckily, I found a bottle of port hiding in the back of the liquor cabinet, and I'd already bought a wedge of cambozola.
Sarah had just found a new apartment before she came over to share in the bread tasting, and the combination of her new wonderful apartment and the fougasse, port, and cheese made her pretty happy.

Flaxseed Loaf

Sunday, March 26, 2006
This flaxseed bread is another one that I probably wouldn't have chosen to make if I hadn't decided to work my way through the whole book--it sounds--well, it sounds too healthy. My vegan friends are always sprinkling flaxseed over everything.
Olive bread--now that sounds sexy; flaxseed loaf just sounds virtuous. But, at least in the case of breads, virtue is its own reward. This is a very rewarding bread.
After deciding that I'd better not grind the flaxseed in Jim's coffee grinder, I decided I'd just use the food processor. I figured it wouldn't be perfect, but it would at least be easy. But nothing happened when I pressed "on." Some little piece of plastic had broken off after the workout with the olive bread, and apparently that piece of plastic was the equivalent of a vital organ. So I got out the old mortar and pestle, and cracked the flaxseed. This tedious chore also made me a little biased toward the flaxseed. Everything just went swimmingly after that. It's one of the fastest breads I've made so far; no sponge or biga is necessary, and it needs no coaxing to rise. It's also delicious, which I didn't expect. It's hearty, all right, but flavorful and with a little bit of crunch. How can so many breads be the best bread I've ever eaten?
By the way, I think I finally got the knack of slashing the bread. I ordered a special French bread slashing knife because I was dissatisfied with my slashing technique. (See picture of Levy's Jewish rye bread--an otherwise wonderful bread with inadequate slashes. In breadmaking, as in life, timidity is rarely the best technique).
I also ordered a new food processor. After reading the reviews, I decided to try a KitchenAid KFP760. The white one was $229.99, and the black one was $179.99. Black is beautiful.

Olive Bread

Saturday, March 25, 2006
One of my favorite bakeries is Turtle Bread Bakery
http://www.turtlebread.com, and one of their best breads is olive bread. Never did I think that I would be able to bake a bread that equals theirs, but I think I did. I made my first biga for this bread (never mind what it is--if you bake, you probably already know, and if you don't, you won't care), but, although I was a little apprehensive about the biga, there was no need to be.


This bread is simplicity itself: other than the olives, it has only all-purpose flour, yeast, water, and salt. With LaCloche bread baker, the crust was as crispy as you can get in a regular oven, and the body of the bread is tender and delicious. It's embarrassing how close Jim and I came to finishing this bread in one sitting.

Southwestern Corn Spoon Bread

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

I was very excited to make my first bread using my brand new MyWeigh scale. At last I could have precision measurement! (Have I ever used the word "obsessive" in connection with this project?). I looked through the box for the directions, and finally found a piece of paper about the size of a business card. Directions: "Turn power on. Weigh." This is akin to The Bread Bible having a recipe that would say: "Mix ingredients. Knead. Let rise. Bake." I need more direction than that. So I'm not totally sure that I got precision measurements, especially since I'm not so sure I got the "Tare" function right. Next time, I'll measure first and then weigh. The scale will be my second opinion.
Even without total precision, the bread was great. Really, how could it go wrong--it's got butter, garlic, onion, roasted red pepper, jalapeno, cilantro, cheese, and corn, in addition to cream, cornmeal, flour, and eggs. It's baked in a souffle pan, and looks puffy and golden and delicious--good enough that it caused me to violate my "no seconds" rule. I also fed some to Sarah, who is a more effusively appreciative audience than Jim is, and I was able to send the rest of it home with her. Let her worry about the excess ten pounds!