Tonight's Specials

Tonight, blessed with a little extra energy--from whence, I know not, since I have a cold and worked hard all day--and a lot of extra vegetables, I cooked. Boy howdy, did I cook. I made a roasted vegetable gratin with 4 different root veggies and a some greens and sausage with 3 different kinds of greens. Did you catch that? Seven kinds of vegetables in one meal. I think that's a Lee family record. Oh, and somewhere in the middle of all the pot juggling, I managed to whip up some biscuits with some fresh whole-wheat flour from the new (to-me) grain mill I was given yesterday. And (here anyone who knows me will begin to doubt my story) I even washed the dishes after dinner. (must have been all this melted gruyere. Mmmm, melty cheese)

Of course, I would be in bed currently if it wasn't for this little "Lost" addiction at my house. We may need an intervention.

Bryan's heading up to the boat tomorrow evening and planning to try working from the boat on Friday. If all goes well, the girls and I will join him in a few weeks for a family attempt at a normal day aboard with school and work and little girl energy all pressurized into 200 square feet. We may need more melty cheese.

I need your help

Last weekend I helped lead the NFC women's retreat at Twin Rocks Friends Camp. It was a lot of fun, but by the time I got back, I had started to feel sick. I spent most of last week moving from bed to couch and back again. Any time I tried to accomplish something, I ended up horizontal again after just a few minutes. So I was less excited than I had expected when I got a package from King Arthur Flour. A few weeks ago, KAF came to town. I went to the bread-baking classes they offered and gladly jumped through the hoops attached to the gift cards they passed out at the end of the day to order a few things I'd been drooling over from their catalog. I got some specialty flour and yeast and a couple of flavorings. But the big treat was a 250 year old sourdough starter.

Turns out, this was the perfect time for it to come. I had just enough energy to feed it before I adjourned to the couch to re-read all the neglected sourdough information in my favorite baking cookbooks. It needed several feedings of flour and water to expand and refresh its rising power, but by the next day, it was ready to be mixed into a batch of dough. After a night of rising on the front porch (I really will clean out my fridge when I get to feeling better) and a morning of rising out in the garage, I baked up my very first loaves of sourdough.

Oh, but they were delicious. But to make more, you have to keep the starter alive. This means feeding the starter at least once a week and using the excess in bread or pancakes or crumpets or any of the myriad other tasty sourdough options. I've divided it in two and converted one half into a stiff starter (they are supposed to be slightly less sour and last longer between feedings). In the next few weeks, I plan to dry some as an emergency backup and share some of the fresh starter with anyone who wants some—anybody? anybody? The girls are already addicted to sourdough pancakes and I'm looking forward to experimenting with new bread recipes. If this sounds like a lot of work, you're right. I'm sure once I work it into my schedule, it won't take up as much space in my brain. But right now, it feels like a new pet.

So I need your help. I think if I name the pile of goop—the only thing in my refrigerator I am trying to keep growing—I'll be more likely to remember to feed it. Any suggestions?

Bread, Finally!

(Alan, this one's for you)

We finally did it!

This Sunday, we made bread in our bread oven. We have made pizza and flatbread, but now we have baked honest-to-goodness bread in it.

We had intended to bake fococcia for our music brunch that morning,


but only a few people were able to come and each one brought so much food, we couldn't imagine making any more. So that afternoon, I made more dough and then we called some friends.

"We've got bread. What can you bring?"

"We'll bring the biggest zucchini ever and fry it up."

"Sounds like dinner to me!"

We set up the backyard baking extravaganza, baking the fococcia breads first with caramelized onions, heirloom tomatoes, and fresh chevre.

Then Bryan scraped out the coals, we let the oven rest (to redistribute the heat evenly), and in went ciabatta!

When we couldn't resist the terrible urge to peek any longer, we declared it done.

Happy Bread Eaters!

Bread in the Mourning

Yesterday, at a friend's house, I glanced idly through one of her Persian cookbooks. The pictures were tantalizing and I quickly worked my way to the dessert section. The number of the recipes with associations to grieving traditions surprised and intrigued me. Some dishes were to be made repeatedly, (on the 4th, 7th, and 40th days after the death of a loved one, for example) and many were to be shared with the grieving family and also with the poor.

Since Grandma died, over 2 weeks ago, I have worked out some of my grief in the kitchen. The first week, I baked potato bread and pugliese for our family. (I figured, if the army goes out of their way to bring fresh bread to the front lines for its morale-boosting benefits, it was probably a good idea for us as well.) Since then, I have made (and shared) whole wheat sandwich bread, ginger scones, plain scones, oatmeal molasses bread, a cinnamon coffeecake and several batches of cookies (including the one we ate for dinner last night. OK...yes...and breakfast this morning). I don't know if this amount of baking is unusual for me; I don't keep a baking diary. But it has taken on new meaning as I consider its place in my grieving process.

A year ago Christmas, I gave Grandma and Grandpa 12 months of bread. I wanted to visit them more often and bake more regularly and this gave me the impetus to do both. It was a good plan with satisfying results all around as we usually stayed long enough to share good bread and great stories. So this year would have been our second year of bread-induced visiting and I was really looking forward to it. I will still take bread to Grandpa, of course, and in many ways, the time with him is even more precious now, but it may be more a grieving tradition than a Christmas gift. We will break bread together and mark the passing of time since her death and honor the courage it has taken for Grandpa to make it through another month without his wife of (almost) 65 years.