She’s at it again. Friend Maggie has become quite the baker, and during our visit last week, she showed me how to make her latest favorite: a delicious—and easy— granola bread.

Doesn’t it look tempting?

It’s chock full of dried fruits, almonds, and honeyed grains. The dough itself is barely sweetened; the abundance of jewel-like fruits provides bursts of sweetness throughout the loaf.

If she could, Maggie would have you over right now, for “a set” on her porch in the country. We’d savor the fall afternoon with a buttery slice and cup of coffee. Lining the front of her yard are the shrubs called burning bush–at this moment in their brilliant red blaze. We’d watch the flurry of chickadees, snatching and storing seeds for the coming winter. We’d talk about oddities we experienced gardening this year–how the tomatoes put more of their energy into vines than fruit, and did you know that groundhogs could climb a fence and eat green beans?

Instead, we’ll have to do the next best thing, and show you how it’s done…

What a fetching assembly of ingredients!

You could make this bread with just raisins and granola, if you prefer. And, if you’d rather put in pecans instead of almonds, you’d be well-pleased with the results.

Maggie had all kinds of dried fruits–apricots, blueberries, cherries, cranberries—in her pantry, so we took the “more is better” approach. For this bread, it proves to be the right one!

Yes, it’s a kneaded, yeasted bread, but don’t be dismayed. Remember, Bread=Time. And most of that time means leaving the dough alone. (after a vigorous kneading!)

This recipe calls for one major rising, followed by a brief one, once the loaves are formed.

The holidays are drawing near. Wrapped up in festive packaging, her fruit-n-granola bread would make a much appreciated gift.

Even better though, would be to have a loaf on hand to serve guests, sliced and smeared with soft butter. Served alongside a cup of hot coffee or tea—ah, I can’t think of a more pleasant way to share a chilly afternoon visiting with friends.

MAGGIE’S FRUIT-N-GRANOLA BREAD

1/3 cup Rolled Oats (not the “quick” kind)
1 1/2 cups Dried Fruit (use a variety & dice if necessary)
1 tablespoon Unsalted Butter (substitute vegetable oil for vegan)
2 tablespoons Honey
1/2 teaspoon Salt
1/2 cup boiling Water
1 cup Granola (chop into coarse crumbs if necessary)
1 cup lukewarm Water
1 pkg. Active Dry Yeast
2 1/2 cups Unbleached All-purpose Flour
1/2 cup Almonds, roughly chopped

In a large bowl, combine oats, 1/2 cup of the dried fruits, butter, honey, and salt. Add boiling water, mix well. Stir in granola and set aside.

In a small bowl, combine yeast and lukewarm water. Cover bowl with a dish towel and set aside to ferment.

When granola mixture has cooled down to lukewarm, stir in yeast mixture.

Stir in flour, 1 cup at a time. Stir in the remaining dried fruit and almonds. The dough will be fairly sticky.

Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface. Flour your hands, and adding flour as needed. knead the dough for about 8 minutes, or until it’s smooth and no longer sticky.

Place dough into an oiled bowl, making sure to coat all over. Cover bowl with a dish towel and place in a warm area – the oven with light on is a great place. Let rise until it’s doubled in size – 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Punch dough down. Cut in half and shape into two slightly oval balls. Place on an oiled sheet pan. Cover with a dish towel and let rise for 15 – 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375F. Bake for 35 – 40 minutes. It should have a golden brown crust and sound slightly hollow when tapped. Foolproof test is 190F on an instant read thermometer. Let cool on a wire rack.

Let cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing! (Gives you time to brew up that pot of coffee-)

Makes two small round loaves.

Shopping in haste I grabbed a bag of self-rising flour off the shelf instead of all-purpose. That error slipped unnoticed until I got home, and started unsacking the groceries. Argh. I don’t use self-rising flour. I have an attitude of disapproval towards it. Its ready-blend of salt and baking powder can get you into trouble.

I’m one of these control freaks–I prefer to put in my own quantities of leavening. As needed.

And, I’ve seen the tragi-comic results when self-rising is mistaken for all-purpose. I recall the layers of a certain multi-tiered wedding cake gone awry, at the hands of such an ingredient mispick.

Convinced that she was working with all-purpose, our baker Tonya added the baking powder and soda that her recipe called for. Super-leavened, the batter sputtered and foamed over the cake pans in rolling waves, forming strange baked stalagmites on the oven floor.

Nonetheless, it was not worth it to return the unwanted bag. I decided to see how I could use the nefarious flour. (Hint-Hint! If you have good recipes, tell me about ‘em!)

And then, I remembered some friends talking about Tammy Algood’s “Two Ingredient Biscuits.”

” It’s so simple and good, it’s crazy. Just 2 Cups of Self-Rising Flour and 1 Cup of Heavy Cream.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

Not counting, of course, the pat of cold butter and deep amber ribbon of sorghum you'll want to put on the biscuits, all hot-n-tenda from the oven.

Mixing up the dough should go quickly. Don’t overwork it. The trick to light biscuits is a light hand.

And, a wet sticky hand.

You could hand-form the shapes, or glob them, “drop biscuit” style, off the end of a spoon, right into the baking pan. I like to get out the rolling pin and give the dough a couple of turns to smooth and slightly flatten the surface, before I cut the rounds.

I don’t roll thin. Think Thick. Big Hot Biscuits is what its all about. As you cut the rounds, place them in a buttered cake pan, their sides touching. And, don’t worry about ‘em being perfectly round. I like a wonky-shaped biscuit. It seems honest.

A hot oven is key. Have it preheated to 450 degrees. If you like, (and I do!) slap a little sliver of butter on top of each biscuit before you put ‘em in the oven.

In less than 20 minutes, you’ll have fat, fluffy biscuits, ready for whatever fixin’s you like. Guess I’ll have to reconsider my anti-self-rising stance.

Biscuits connote The South, picnics, country ham, big breakfasts, sweet butter, sorghum. Have you tasted (or cooked with) sorghum? I’ve taken a fancy to this syrup only in recent years. Not to be confused with molasses,(a by-product of cane sugar) sorghum results from cooking down the cane of same-named plant. It’s flavor is distinctive: strong, but not overbearing; caramel sweet with a somewhat minerally edge.

And a gorgeous amber pour.

TWO INGREDIENT BISCUITS

2 Cups Self-Rising Flour
1 Cup Heavy Cream

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Measure flour into a mixing bowl. Pour in cream and quicky mix together. This will form a mass. If it seems too dry, add a little slug of milk or cream—the wetness of the dough actually helps steam up the biscuits!

Pat dough ball onto a lightly floured surface, and with the gentle pressure, roll out the dough—but not thin–about 1/2″ thick. Cut into rounds–at least 2″ in diameter—and place each biscuit in a greased round cake pan.

Let the biscuits touch, as you place them side by side in the pan. Biscuits bake up taller and more tender when they touch, “shoulder-to-shoulder.”

Optional: place a sliver of cold butter on top of each biscuit before you put the pan in the oven.

Bake for about 15 minutes. Tops (and bottoms) will be browned, and the biscuit interior will be white and fluffy.

Serve immediately, with butter, sorghum, honey, blueberry preserves…
Makes 8-12 biscuits.

Since her acquisition of a mighty stand mixer with a dough hook, Maggie has become an avid baker. Oh, she was already accomplished, when it came to quick breads, cakes, skillet cornbread and such. Yeasted breads had her daunted–that dreaded yeast!

There seemed to be so many hurdles: how to successfully activate it (is this water too warm? not warm enough? did I just kill it?) and feed it (does it really like sugar?) and work it into a sponge (so sticky!) And then there was that all rising time, followed by punching down. And, another uprising!

Mercy. There seemed to be too many opportunities for things to go awry.

But when we talked a couple of weeks ago, she declared that she had conquered these fears. She was baking delicious ciabatta and focaccia breads with ease.

“I’ve got it down, Nance,” she said. “When you come out, we’ll make some. We’ll have it in the oven in under two hours. I’ve got the garlic and tomatoes, if you’ll bring the basil. It’ll be ready for lunch. Steve thinks its the best bread he’s ever eaten.”

I couldn’t wait! Off to the country…

Maggie had the modest ingredients assembled prior to my arrival, so we could get right to it. We decided to make a basic bread—just embellished with sea salt and olive oil. But it would be very easy to fleck the surface with fresh rosemary, or green onions, or sundried tomatoes.

We tested the water–very warm, almost hot (it should range between 105-115 degrees) and dissolved the yeast with the sugar. In less than 10 minutes, it had developed a foamy scum on top of the liquid. Proofed! Activated!

“What’s great about this recipe is that it only requires one rise,” she said.

Then she added the other ingredients. This is where the dough hook is so helpful—it churns up the flour mixture into a ropy sponge. When the dough comes together and climbs up the hook (it takes about 10 minutes) it is ready to form into a ball and knead by hand until smooth.

“So much of this is by feel,” Maggie said, hands busy shaping the dough. “What I learned is this: RELAX. It’s just bread. If you mess up, just throw it away, and try another time. I think that the reason I had failed in the past was because I was too uptight in the process. That kind of thing gets communicated into the bread.”

Meanwhile, the dough had achieved the right elasticity.
With that, she pressed the dough onto a baking sheet and set the focaccia aside for its one-time one hour rise.

Post-rise, we dimpled the surface to accept the fruity oil. We sprinkled the surface with a couple of fancy sea salts, gifts from one of her friends–Hawaiian pink and Fleur de Sel.

Once in the oven, we could turn our attention to lunch. A plummy Italian heirloom from her garden awaited.

I whipped up this intense aioli, using my garden basil, and Maggie’s garden garlic. Sometimes with these emulsions, I use the whole egg. This time, I wanted a smaller, more powerful amount, and in the Provencal manner, used just the yolk.

Place a swipe of this indulgence on your focaccia, still warm like ours, and slap a ripe tomato slice on top. A spritz of salt, another aioli dollop, and dive in. You’ll experience a summer treat that, as Maggie is wont to say, “is moanin’ good.”

MAGGIE’S EASY & BASIC FOCACCIA
5 Cups All Purpose Flour
1 2/3 cups Warm Water
1 packet (approx 2 t.) Rapid Rise Yeast
1 t. Sugar
2 1/1 t. Salt
Olive Oil – 1/4 cup plus 3 Tbsp for coating plus more for coating bottom of pan
Sea Salt/Kosher Salt – to taste

In the bowl of a stand mixer, stir together Warm Water, Yeast and Sugar. Cover and keep for 5-10 mins until foamy.

Add Salt, Olive Oil and 4 1/2 cups of All Purpose Flour (more can be added as needed).

Mix with the dough hook until dough starts to come together. Let the dough mix for another couple of minutes, adding more flour as needed. Once you have a fairly smooth ball of dough, turn out onto a floured board. With floured hands, knead dough for 1 minute or until a smooth ball forms.

Generously drizzle Olive Oil to coat the bottom of a 15×10 inch baking pan. Place dough ball in pan and press into the bottom into an even rectangle shape. Cover with kitchen towel and keep in a warm place for 1 to 1 1/2 hours to rise.

Preheat Oven to 425

With your finger, gently make indentations one inch apart all over the dough. Brush the remaining Olive Oil on the top of the risen dough. Sprinkle with salt. Bake Focaccia for 20 – 25 minutes (Keep an eye on it towards the end – all ovens are different).

GARLICKY PROVENCAL-STYLE BASIL AIOLI
1 clove Garlic
1 Yolk from a farm-fresh egg
Juice from 1 Lemon
3 T. Basil Leaves, coarsely chopped
Sea Salt
pinch of cracked Black Pepper
8 T. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
food processor fitted with a swivel blade

Process the garlic and egg yolk together for a couple of minutes. Add lemon juice and process another minute. Then
add the basil—pulse until it is coated with the mixture. Season with salt and pepper, and add the olive oil, while processing, just drops at a time. Scrape the sides of the food processor from time to time. Continue adding olive oil. The mixture will become very thick and creamy–like garlicky basil melting in your mouth. Cover and refrigerate.

This makes a small amount–use within one day (so good, it’s easily done.)

I have told you all about my friend Maggie and her place out in the country, where I take carefree breaks from my city ways to hang in her kitchen, drink coffee, visit, and cook. On a given day, we might bake bread, or stir up a pot of gumbo, or can tomatoes, or fix a grand salad, using her garden’s finest. All, I should note, with splendid results.

This time was a little different. I know, everything looks pretty nice in the picture. But, things went a bit mad, green tomato mad.

It was unintentional, this madness. Our initial plan had been to cook with pears harvested from her craggy, fruit laden tree–perhaps we would make pear butter, or pear butter coffeecake.

But, this fall had odd weather, super warm in September and October, and Maggie’s tomato plants had an unexpected resurgence. They were covered, almost as much as they were in summer, with fruit. When her husband Steve learned that a hard freeze was coming, he hastened to the garden to gather what he could. He returned with a 10 gallon bucket, piled with all manner and size of green tomatoes.

So, outside of breading them in cornmeal and frying them crisp, what do you do with 10 gallons of green tomatoes?

Maggie and I decided to find out.

Some ‘net surfing turned up ideas for charred green tomato salsa, green tomato ketchup, and green tomato cake. A few recipes called for slicing, salting, and sweating the tomatoes to remove excess water. Other recipes called for tying the slices up in cheesecloth, and letting them drain overnight.

Needless to say, this notion was rejected.

We plunged headlong into green tomato projects, making things up as we proceeded. It would be some time later before certain aspects of a green tomato’s nature would be revealed.

We oven-roasted green tomatoes, jalapenos, garlic, and onions to a char for salsa.

While those cooled, we chopped more tomatoes for the bundt cake, and improvised a quickbread style recipe, not unlike ones that you use for, say, carrot cakes, or zucchini cakes.

Maggie had a small bundt pan. So, we used the excess batter for muffins. The muffins, we thought, would be our afternoon snack with coffee. Then, we turned our attention to the task of the green tomato ketchup.

Whoa. We quickly cleaned, cored, and quartered a mighty mound, and tossed them into a big pot. For spicing, we used the same ingredients–cinnamon stick, whole clove, and allspice– as I had for my Real Red Ketchup.

At one point, Maggie surveyed the counters, covered with cake pans and batter, vinegars and spices, food mill parts, canning jars, and then the cauldron of green gurgling on the stove and said, “I feel like we’re mad scientists and this is our laboratory.”

And, like any good mad scientists, we recognized that cooking in this manner was very experimental. And, our green tomato experiment yielded mixed results.

Our Assessments:
1. Charred Green Tomato Salsa: This had terrific heat and tangy flavor, not unlike tomatillo, which it resembled also in texture– that gelatinous mouth feel, the kind you notice, at times, with cooked eggplant. We decided that this would be better as a sauce baked over enchiladas.

2. There was likely a good reason to salt and drain the green tomatoes in advance. Our ketchup did not get as thick as we would have liked. The taste was surprisingly good, pretty ketchup-y, really. There was something visually jarring about the color. Close your eyes when you taste it.

3.Green tomatoes need to be chopped very very finely for the bundt cake. Or, pulse them in a food processor. When the muffins were warm, the larger pieces of green tomato were fine—they reminded me of apple, in a way–but as the muffins cooled, the pieces became weird, a little unpleasant–that same gelatinous texture thing. Otherwise, we gave this cake a thumbs-up. I’ve given you the recipe, with the appropriate remedies.

4. It’s always a good idea to find clever ways to use what you’ve got. (Think–there have been thousands and thousands of farm women who had bushels of green tomatoes and little else to work with.)

5. Mad or not, kitchen experiments are fun. And, we welcome any green tomato tips, tricks, or recipes! Suggestions?

GREEN TOMATO BUNDT CAKE
2 1/2 cups All Purpose Flour
1 t. Salt
1 t. Baking Soda
1/2 t. Cinnamon
1/2 t. Allspice
1/4 t. Clove
1/4 t. Black Pepper
2 Eggs
1 c. Brown Sugar
3 c. Green Tomatoes, chopped very finely
1/2 c. Buttermilk
1/2 c. Canola Oil
1 c. chopped Walnuts

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Measure and sift dry ingredients together.
Whisk eggs and brown sugar together. Stir in buttermilk and oil, then tomatoes. Stir in dry ingredients and walnuts. Pour into greased and floured bundt pan.

Bake 50-60 minutes. Allow to cool, and remove. Dust with powdered sugar.

Beautiful collection! Maggie is ready for winter.

When my daughter Madeleine was nine years old, she gave me an electric waffle iron for Christmas. This always makes me smile to think about, because, waffle lover that she is, the iron was really as much a gift for her as it was for me.

In those days, mornings were hectic. I would get Madeleine off to school, then race to the cafe, or the catering kitchen, so we reserved waffle making for Sundays or special occasions. I can remember numerous birthday slumber parties followed by big birthday breakfasts. I’d set up my work station, and the girls, a bit bleary-eyed from all-night Twister, giggly Truth or Dare, or a staged production of “Murder, She Wrote” would shuffle into the kitchen as I turned out waffle after waffle after waffle.

Waffle making diminished after Madeleine went off to college. The trusty iron, with drips of batter permanently annealed to its sides from overzealous pours, got relegated to the stove’s bottom drawer. Whenever she was home for the holidays, though, I’d rifle through the collection of cookie sheets and pot tops, and resurrect the maker.

Waffles had become part of a homecoming tradition.

Even in recent years. Bill would ask, “Why do we only have waffles when Madeleine is here?” I’d have to smile and shrug.

That waffle iron began showing its age, and got rather “tippy.” One of the feet had broken off in an accidental nudge off the counter. At some point, the hinge mechanism had sprung, so it was a balancing act, trying to level the iron, prop the lid, and pour the batter. Eventually, waffles would mercilessly stick, and after a twenty year run, we retired the iron.

But the tradition? No way! A new waffle iron appeared under our tree a couple of Christmases ago, courtesy of the waffle-loving girl. And, because today is that girl’s birthday, I’ve made some waffles—easy, healthy, delicious—for all of us.

Happy Birthday Madeleine!

These waffles are embellished with some butter, yogurt, and strawberries in syrup

HONEY BUCKWHEAT WAFFLES

1/2 cup Buckwheat Flour
1/2 cup Unbleached White Flour
1/2 t. Baking Powder
1/2 t. Salt
1/4 t. Baking Soda
1 large Egg
1 c. 2% Milk
2 T. Vegetable Oil (I used Olive Oil!)
1 T. Plain Yogurt (Greek Yogurt is extra nice!)
1 T. Honey

Regular Waffle Iron, heated

Butter
Maple Syrup, or
Strawberries in Syrup

Sift dry ingredients into a mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, beat the egg with milk, yogurt, and honey. Add this to the dry ingredients, stirring so until well combined. Do not overbeat.

Spoon onto heated waffle iron and cook.

Makes 6 luscious waffles.

When Gigi planted a fig tree on the border of her urban garden four years ago, she had no idea that it would take to the place with such ardor. But the tree settled right in to its new home, rapidly spreading upward and outward: a sprawl of great leafed branches ultimately producing hundreds of honeyed knobs of fruit. “It seems very happy here,” we both observed. “This could be the year of the fig.”

Throughout July and August, I’d get calls from Gigi, field reports you might say, about the status of the figs.

“If these all ripen, well, this is one rockin’ fig tree,” was one update.

“Thousands of figs! I picked two 5lb. baskets in less than an hour.” was another.

Over weeks, and as the summer heat became more severe, Gigi cultivated a relationship with the beloved tree; to me, it was really a reverence:

“It’s unbearably hot, and I keep telling her how wonderful she is, making all this fruit.” She set up a special watering system, “I told her I’d take care of her. I know she’s thirsty.”

To date, She has produced enough figs to make 100 pints of preserves. One hundred pints from a four-year-old tree! It seems unimaginable—

but true! Despite temperatures stuck in the nineties and rainfall spare, Gigi’s mighty fig tree became so laden with plump fruit you could easily pick a basketful in no time at all.

Which, given the intense heat and the sticky milky mess that you get allover your hands and arms from picking, was a very good thing.

Gigi set up a system of ladders and planks within the inner sanctum of the tree, cloaked under the leafy branches. It was with childlike glee that I clambered up and around the limbs, concealed from the outer world, immersed in the heady enclave of fig leaves and fruit.

And, soon, I had picked a large bowlful of figs, most dark purple, some yellow-green with a flush of rouge, all exquisite, ripe, and beautiful.

It was time to try something new with my fig bounty. Last year, I made luscious preserves with Maggie. Gigi had already been playing with different recipes: cutting back on the sugar, adding ginger to some batches, orange juice in another, and white balsamic vinegar in yet another. All methods were cooked on the stovetop. While each batch was delicious, none had the figgy caramel syrup she was seeking.

Then, one afternoon, I got a text: “Roasting is the way.”

Why, of course! But wait, another text followed–

“No olive oil. Sugar and white balsamic vinegar only. 425 degrees.”

A-ha! (Love the economy of a texted recipe.)

After carefully rinsing my figs, I placed them on a baking sheetpan, along with a few wedges of lemon–my addition. Then, I dusted with sugar, sprinkled white balsamic vinegar over the batch, and put them into that hot oven to roast. It didn’t take long—ten minutes or so—and the figs got puffed and charred, coated in a rich caramel created from melting of the sugar, vinegar, and natural fig juices. It was amazing.

After scraping into jars, I processed some in a hot water bath, as I had with Maggie’s figs, but kept one jar in the fridge–ready for this pizza I’ve been dreaming about since we first made it last year, about this time.

Covered with roasted figs, shaved gorgonzola, leeks, and ripples of prosciutto, this is one dreamy pizza. And, don’t forget–A few sprigs of rosemary, and drizzle of the figgy syrup takes the dream to wonderland.

ROASTED FIG-PROSCIUTTO-GORGONZOLA PIZZA

PIZZA DOUGH:
1 pkg. Dry Active Yeast (2 t.)
1 c. warm Water
1 3/4 c. Unbleached All Purpose Flour
1/2 c. Rye Flour
2 t. Sea Salt
1 T. Olive Oil

Sprinkle yeast into bowl of water, stir well, and let stand for 5 minutes to activate the yeast. Combine yeast water in a mixing bowl with flours, salt, olive oil. Mix until it forms into a ball. It will be moist, but not sticky. Cover and allow to rise for one hour.

Transfer dough to lightly floured work surface. Divide into two and form into balls. Cover and refrigerate, if you are not going to use immediately.
Otherwise, let stand out for 30 minutes, then roll out into whatever pizza shape—round, oblong, rectangle—suits you. Use additional flour, as needed, to prevent sticking.

Cover with toppings, and bake in a very hot oven–450 degrees–until browned and bubbly–10 minutes.

TOPPINGS:
Roasted Figs and their syrup
Sliced Prosciutto
Diced Leeks
Shaved (or crumbled) Gorgonzola Cheese
Fresh Rosemary

Two resolutions intersect nicely in this post. (I enjoy the economy of a such a thing! ) Desiring both to incorporate more whole grains in our diet AND bake more bread, I’d like to share a couple of truly simple and delicious recipes that are done on the fly—in terms of bread-time. Neither requires extensive pre-planning.

One is Brown Irish Soda Bread, here just in time for Saint Patrick’s Day. Whole wheat and rye flours are mixed in with unbleached white, which gives added dimension of flavor to Ireland’s national dish, without added heaviness. A handful of currants are just right for a little pop of sweet, pleasant background interest.

From start to finish, this baking project takes under an hour, and rewards your efforts with two pretty loaves.

Maggie and I baked this together in her kitchen, and used her buttermilk. What a good find! Organically produced, it was not reduced in fat; its rich, luxurious pour contributed to the bread’s supple texture and subtle tang. If you can find whole buttermilk, I recommend it.

Rather than make one large loaf, we divided the dough into two rounds. We brushed a little melted butter over the top and sprinkled some currants before placing in the oven to bake. And then, we waited—-but not long. Just enough time to brew up a small pot of coffee…..

Who knew that so few ingredients could make something so good?

The other is Focaccia, such an easy yeasted, flatbread! With minimal kneading, it only has to rise once!

Again, combining a variety flours, I baked this one with a topping of frizzled leeks, olive oil, and flakes of crystally Maldon Salt.

If you don’t have leeks, use uncooked chopped green onion, which I like almost as much. It reminds me of focaccia used for grilled sandwiches in a little corner cafe in North Beach, San Francisco:
Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Store Cafe.

I discovered Mario’s Bohemian over fifteen years ago, a charming, odd angled neighborhood bar with a minimal menu—terrific sandwiches made with a green onion-flecked focaccia that was freshly baked in the ‘hood, and brought in daily. (I loved the sandwich with grilled eggplant.)

Even though it’s kinda touristy now, it’s so small and still retains its community sense of place. You can get a great cuppa Graffeo coffee there too….beans roasted just up the street.

Of course, the bread is delicious by itself, or as an accompaniment to a bowl of soup. But you might want to try it as a grilled sandwich, in the Mario’s Bohemian manner. Yesterday, Bill had his with this bowl of tomato-vegetable; I had mine open-faced, with a slice of roast beef topped with horseradish cream sauce and greens. We were both very happy.

Frizzled Leek Foccacia
3 Cups Flour: 1 ¼ c. Unbleached All Purpose
1 cup Whole Wheat Flour
¾ c. Rye Flour
1 pkg. Active Dry Yeast
1 cup tepid Water
3 T. Olive Oil
1 T. Honey
1 T. Red Wine (opt.)
1 t. Salt

1 Leek, sliced thinly, sauteed briefly in olive oil and salt
Olive Oil
Sea Salt, Maldon Salt

Stir water and yeast together in a bowl. Add olive oil, honey, salt, wine. Stir in flours until all is incorporated, forms a sticky ball. I added a little wine and honey to this, to give the yeast a little something more to eat. It seemed to enjoy it, and got well activated.

Gently knead for a few minutes to help release glutens.

Cover and allow to rise at least 45 minutes.

Turn out onto oiled baking sheet pan, and gently press out to all sides. Spread leeks over the top, dust with salt flakes, drizzle with a little olive oil. Cover again while you wait for the oven to heat: Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until top and bottom of flatbread is brown. Remove from oven and allow to cool.

Brown Irish Soda Bread with Currants
1 ½ cup Unbleached All Purpose Flour
1 ½ cup Whole Wheat Flour
¾ cup Rye Flour
1 t. Baking Soda
1 t. Salt
1 T. Brown Sugar
½ -1 cup dried Currants
2 cups Buttermilk

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix dry ingredients together in a bowl. Make a well and pour in buttermilk and currants. Begin working the liquid throughout the flour, dough will be a little wet and sticky, scone-like. Turnout onto work surface and lightly knead. If it’s too wet, add a little flour. Divide and form into 2 balls.

With a sharp knife, score an X across the top, bringing the knife to the edges. This will help the bread rise evenly. Place onto a buttered baking sheet pan and place into the oven.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until done. The rounds of bread will have a hollow sound when thumped.

Slice and serve warm with a slap of butter on it, and enjoy with a cup of coffee or tea. To the Luck of the Irish!

It has been at least eight years since we’ve had REAL snow in Nashville, the kind that starts in the morning as flurries and builds throughout the day, big fat clusters tumbling down, blanketing the trees, the front yards, the roads, diffusing light, muffling sound…. ultimately bringing the city to a standstill.

Wow. It got really quiet.

And, while I was home, cozy (and succumbing to a headcold), I decided to enjoy the snowy shut-down by making simple comforts: bread and soup.

I had enough of the necessary ingredients: and handful of vegetables for the soup pot, some flour and an unexpired package of dry yeast for bread. These are, after all, basic foods.

With broccoli as the star, mirepoix the reliable supporting players, and potatoes comprising the creamy base, it doesn’t take long to make this hearty soup. It also isn’t essential that you add any dairy to achieve richness, although a modest cupful of lowfat milk added at the end is rather nice. A few shavings of sharp white cheddar, too.

But this is a much lighter version of Broccoli-Cheddar that is often served out in the world, all floury and cheesy and fat-laden.
The potatoes add the creaminess, body to the soup. As they cook along, they all but disappear.

like under a blanket of snow.

Chunks of potatoes will break down, adding flavor and body to the soup.

The soup is beginning to thicken, a good time to add the broccoli florets.

Creamy Broccoli Soup
3 T. Olive Oil
4 medium Russet Potatoes, peeled and diced
1 head Broccoli, stems and florets separated, stems chopped
2 medium Onions, chopped
3 Carrots, chopped
3 Celery, chopped
3 cloves Garlic, minced
3 1/2 qts. vegetable stock, or water
Salt-n-Peppa to taste
1 cup lowfat Milk
1/2 cup shredded Vermont Cheddar

Warm olive oil in a stockpot on medium heat. Sauté the diced potatoes for 5 minutes. Add broccoli stems and the mirepoix (carrots-onions-celery) and stir into the mix, sauteing another 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and season with salt and black pepper.

The vegetables will begin to soften, and stick to the bottom and sides of the pot. Keep stirring, then add the vegetable stock (or water)

The soup will get a glazy thickness to it. Add the broccoli florets to cook into the batch last. Once they are softened, taste for salt and pepper. Stir in a cup of milk and some shredded Vermont Cheddar for added dairy richness and tang.

And now, for the bread part…….

The thing about bread is Time.

That’s all. And it’s not time where You are actually doing anything—it’s the yeast that’s doing all the work. After you mix up the dough, you just have to check in on periodically, give it a punch, knead it and leave it be. And, put it in the oven to bake.

So, I amend that—it’s really about Patience. It’s worth it. I would like to bake bread more than I do—I am not mindful enough to put it into the plan of a day. And while the recipe for this Rosemary Cracked Wheat Bread is not exceptional, I share it to encourage you.(and myself!) It’s not hard. It’s fun. And, delicious. Just simply to get in the kitchen and bake!

Serve the crusty loaf warm, with a slap of butter on it.
Or, get out your fave olive oil, dress it up with a few strips of sundried tomatoes, polka dots of balsamic….carve a little parmegiano-reggiano….

Rosemary-Cracked Wheat Bread

1 cup warm Water
1 package Active Dry Yeast
1 T. sugar
2 t. Sea Salt
2 T. Olive Oil
1 cup Cracked Wheat Flour
1 1/2 -2 cups Unbleached White Flour
2 T. chopped fresh Rosemary

Stir yeast and sugar into warm water. Yeast will begin to activate–bubble. Add salt and olive oil. Add cracked wheat flour and at least 1 cup of the unbleached white flour and make a soft dough. (add more white flour if necessary.) Knead until elastic. Form into a ball and place into a bowl. Cover with a damp cloth and allow to rise in a warm place for an hour. Punch down again, reform into a ball.

Score with a knife, sort of criss-cross fashion.
Brush with olive oil, sprinkle with coarse sea salt and chopped rosemary.
Let rise for another 45 minutes.

Bake at 375 degrees for 35-40 minutes. Crust with be nicely golden and the bread will “thunk.”

I wanted to share this ensemble recipe with you, made recently for another of our community pot luck dinners, because its elements lend themselves to so many tasty variations.

Here we’ve got smoked pork loin, peach chutney, sauteed arugula layered on one of the South’s best culinary contributions: the corncake. I made these “pick-up” size, so that you can enjoy bitter, sweet, smoky, and savory pretty much in two bites. This particular combination was based on ingredients I had on hand. It’s got a nice season-transition feel. And, color!

But, using the corncake as the base, you should feel free to improvise. Sauteed kale, chard, or collards would work equally well. Try ham or smoked turkey for the meat.

And, the beauty of chutneys is that it’s really hard to make a bad one, provided you have good ingredients used in a good ratio. The chutney recipe below is a guideline, ready for substitutions. With pears and apples coming onto the seasonal market, I’m sure I’ll be making chutney with those, paired with cranberries. Different chili peppers and sweet peppers are welcome additions. Have fun with it.

And, if nothing else, enjoy this corncake recipe. Make ‘em BIG for dinner. They are delicious, too, with bits of corn, chilis, or cheese mixed in….

Happy Fall to all!

Baby Corncakes
1 ½ cups Cornmeal (can be yellow or white corn meal)
1 cup All Purpose Flour (make sure it is All Purpose, NOT Self-Rising)
1 Tablespoon Baking Powder
½ teaspoon Salt
1 Tablespoon Sugar
1 ½ sticks (12 tablespoons) melted Butter
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups lowfat milk

skillet

In a mixing bowl, add the dry ingredients (the first 5 ingredients) and whisk them together.
In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, butter, and milk.
Add to the bowl of dry ingredients.
Stir until well blended and smooth, but do not overbeat.
Heat skillet and ladle out batter–about 1 Tablespoon size per corncake–and cook as you would pancakes–flipping after the edges brown.

Makes about 4 dozen baby corncakes.

Add-ins: kernel corn, or minced jalapeno peppers, or green onions, or shredded cheddar cheese folded into the batter before baking!

White Peach-Blueberry Chutney
3 fresh white peaches
1 fresh Serrano chili pepper
2 T. grated fresh ginger root
3 T. brown sugar
1 T. cider vinegar
1/3 cup blueberries

Place sliced peaches, peppers into a saucepan and slowly cook these down together for about 15-20 minutes on low heat, breaking up the peaches as you stir. Stir in ginger root, brown sugar, cider vinegar and blueberries. Continue to cook until the mixture has a coarse but glazed appearance.

Cooks Notes:

The white peaches were a novelty–a pleasant surprise at our farmers market. Use whatever good peaches are available.

The arugula was especially pungent–mature—and I sauteed it in a little olive oil, with minced garlic and onion, and a little salt. I didn’t add any red pepper flakes, which I often do with cooked greens, as the arugula was already peppery.

One of my daughter’s favorite books growing up was Bunnicula, the tale of a vampire rabbit who sucked the juices out of vegetables, leaving behind ghostly versions of carrots, beets, celery, and such.

I was reminded of that hilarious story recently when we had a strawberry tasting at our farmer’s market. We offered market goers samples of commercially grown California berries and ones that were organically grown by Delvin Farms here in College Grove, Tennessee. As I was helping to quarter the strawberries into bite size pieces, I couldn’t help but marvel at the difference. Our local berries were small to medium sized, juicy, and red all the way through. The commercial counterparts from California were larger, firmer, with somewhat hollowed interiors drained of all color.

The mark of the vampire rabbit!

“These,” I told my fellow strawberry tasting volunteer, “are Bunnicula Strawberries!”

The Delvins little heart shaped strawberries were easy winners in the tasting. Poor Bunniculas!
Based on just the visual, some people opted not to try the Californias. Others noted, with surprise, that they were sweeter than the locals, but definitely not Strawberrier.

When you buy local berries, it’s best to eat them or cook with them within days; they are perfectly ripe when picked. And that time is now! For a few short weeks, they will be available.
I treat strawberries the same as tomatoes—no refrigeration. (unless absolutely necessary!) It would be a shame to let them go to waste because they languished on the counter a day or two too long.

But with so many delicious possibilities—in fruit salads, green salads; paired with goat cheese and almonds; pureed into coulis, layered into shortcakes, pudding cakes, or just eaten plain–pure delight–
that’s not likely to happen. (This means more strawberry recipes are to come…)

Here’s one of my favorite Strawberriest treats: this features a double whammy of strawberry—-
sliced strawberry bread slathered with strawberry cream cheese!

Very Strawberry Finger Sandwiches
Strawberry Bread spread with Strawberry Cream Cheese

Strawberry Bread (makes 1 loaf)
1 pint Strawberries, cleaned, hulled, stems removed, sliced and chopped
¼ cup Brown Sugar
2 teaspoon Lemon Zest
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
½ cup sugar
½ cup vanilla yogurt
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1½ cups all purpose flour

Preheat oven at 325 degrees. Coat loaf pan with baking spray.
In a bowl, mix strawberries, brown sugar, and zest together. Set aside.
In another bowl, sift flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda together.
In a mixer fitted with a paddle, cream the butter and sugar together. Add yogurt. Scrape bowl sides and beat in eggs. Fold in strawberry mixture. Then add dry ingredients. Mix until well blended. Pour into loaf pan and bake in the middle of the oven for 70 minutes. Allow to cool before removing from pan.

Strawberry Cream Cheese
In a mixing bowl, beat together:
1 lb. softened cream cheese
1 ½ cups chopped fresh ripe strawberries
1 teaspoon lemon or orange zest
2 Tablespoons sugar (optional)

Slice strawberry bread into thin slices, 12-14 slices per loaf.
Spread half the slices with strawberry cream cheese and top with remaining slices.
Cut into rectangles or triangles. Makes about 2 dozen.