Kurtoskalacs—Chimney Bread, or Dracula’s Esophagus

Confession, since it’s Sunday: I joined yet another baking community—The Daring Bakers. I admit to my higher power that I have lost control. This club appealed to my wild side, both with its title and the cartoons, a ninja cook and diva singing into a whisk on the website; I could not resist. The first baking challenge was definitely the hardest recipe I have endeavored yet. This is a Transylvanian pastry funneled to look like a chimney. But to me, it looks more like an esophagus. Apparently, Dracula’s Esophagus. Probably won’t make it again because it was an epic time suck, after which I feel as though I should be awarded a Masters in Fine Arts in sculpture or pottery, once I got it to stand up. Might make a nice surprise-edible vase at a dinner party. Come to think of it, this project bears eerie resemblance to some of the Christmas presents I gave out the fall I took the pottery class during my GI block in medical school. Nothing bespeaks peristalsis like making wet, lumpy tubes of clay at the wheel.

Kurtoskalacs—Chimney Bread, or Dracula’s Esophagus

Adapted from Daring Bakers Forum

1 tsp white sugar

1 cup sourdough starter

1/2 cup milk

1/3 cup white sugar

1/4 cup butter

1 tsp salt

2 eggs, beaten

4 cups all-purpose flour

In a sauce pan, scald milk over medium heat– once it bubbles, remove it from the stove, and mix in 1/4 cup sugar, 1/4 cup butter, and salt until melted. Allow to cool until luke warm.

In a large bowl, mix sourdough starter, milk mixture, eggs, and flour. A mixer might be easier, because the dough is very sticky. With sourdough, admittedly the balance of hydration is difficult to get right. My first batch of this was a little too wet and it melted off the pin (see epic fail pics). If this happens, more flour and a little hotter oven might be the answer.

Once the dough has pulled together, turn it onto a lightly flour-dusted surface, and knead for an additional 2 minutes. Round into a ball, and place in large, lightly oiled bowl. Cover with a damp cloth, and let it rise in a warm place until doubled in volume.

Remove your dough from the bowl, and return to lightly floured surface. Evenly divide the dough into three parts. Round divided dough into balls and return to greased bowl for the second rise. Cover with a damp cloth, and let it rise in a warm place for another hour or so.

Prepare the rolling pins:

Cover pins in foil, and grease with melted butter. You will also need a metal or glass baking dish to keep the dough on the pin suspended in the oven.

Roll out each dough ball into oblong ovals and cut out 1″ strips.

Beginning from one end, wrap the dough around the dowel on a slight angle, pinching the dough and “tucking it in” when you get to the end. Trust me, this is a two person job.

Some people fry these before baking them, so that is an option. I think that is too much butter, so I just brushed the dough on the pin with a one to one ratio of sugar/water syrup, and I rolled it in cinnamon.

Some people do nuts or other zesty goodies. Then you broil at 400-500 for 15-20 minutes. Watch for slippage. Some people like to baste in butter and more sugar when it comes out. I, of course, am one of those people.

Here are a few of photographs of my epic fail when the first chimney melted off the rolling pin into a puddle in the bottom of the pan (still tasted good by the way), so you won’t feel so alone if this happens to you.

Also, I have to say, if Dracula’s esophagus happened to be anything like this bread, I am positive he had dysphagia. There are Mallory-Weiss tears in this thing up the wazoo.

Grilled Mackerel with Pancetta, Avocado and Jalapeño on Toast

There is the same tension with fresh bread as there is with fresh vegetables—one romantic window of time where all is perfection—the now of flavor— on the other fragile side of which looms certain decay. When with my bread the rose window begins to fog, I consider two end-games: bread pudding, or toast. This recipe for toast is dazzling because with simple addition it sums up my favorite ingredients of the season: avocado, jalapeño, and white fish (pancetta is my favorite in any season). What’s more, I have got a small tree out back rife with jalapeños, so this recipe allows me to be a good steward of my backyard blessings. Everything I have eaten in the last week has been sprinkled with the diced green spice, not one morsel will go to waste!

I never do seem to wash my hands thoroughly enough after handling these peppers, and yesterday, when I was scheduled to take the portrait that will be included with my residency application, of course, I touched my eyeball with jalapeño finger. Dear residency admissions committees: please don’t throw me into the Pass pile because I look like Bob Costas at the Olympics. It’s not pink eye. I don’t smoke weed. I swear it’s jalapeno conjunctivitis.

Grilled Mackerel with Pancetta, Avocado and Jalapeño on Toast

Adapted from Food and Wine

1 Hass avocado, thinly sliced

1 jalapeño—halved, seeded and very thinly sliced

1 teaspoon marjoram leaves, plus more for garnish

Coarse sea salt

Freshly ground pepper, (Mignonette from Penzeys, my new fave!)

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for brushing

Four 1/2-inch-thick slices of peasant bread

several garlic cloves, roasted in olive oil and halved

Two 8-ounce Spanish mackerel fillets, halved crosswise at an angle

8 very thin slices of pancetta

In a medium bowl, combine the avocado slices with the jalapeño and the 1 teaspoon of marjoram; season with salt and pepper. Add the lemon juice and the 2 tablespoons of olive oil and toss gently.

Light a grill and brush the grates with oil. Brush the bread with olive oil and grill over high heat, turning once, until lightly charred in spots. Rub the bread with the cut sides of the garlic clove. I used one whole garlic clove per slice of bread.

Brush the mackerel with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Grill skin side down until lightly charred, about 3 minutes. Carefully flip the fish and grill until cooked through, about 2 minutes longer. Arrange the fish on the bread, skin side up. Top with the pancetta and avocado salad. Accidentally touch your eye with your jalapeno chopping finger, take a fifteen intermission while your husband rinses your on-fire eyeball out in the bathroom sink, then enjoy!

Herb Bread and the Mailbox

You must know how I love real mail. If the USPS goes belly up, I will literally hire owls or pigeons, any entrepreneur in flight, to keep mailboxes fed with my letters. If I had to argue the significance of the tangible, which I don’t because I assume the readers of a food blog have no such dispute, my opening statement would detail how parchment and papyrus letters saved western civilization.

I recently received a green paint swatch upon which a friend of mine scrawled a frantic message, as though in the middle of the Home Depot paint department, something about the contemplation of Honeydew versus Lime Parfait had propelled her into the poet’s rapture of an urgent line of Virginia Woolf’s: “I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond daily life.”

This little gem arrived in my box the same day that a card arrived from my mother, with this image that perfectly captures what it is to be a young doctor in training, and which could have been amended to include the quotation from the green paint swatch.

It was as if the letters had been having a conversation with one another in my mailbox before I came home and discovered them—the imagination of such a thing itself an inkling that there is indeed something beyond daily life, should we choose to peer into the looking glass.

Herb Bread, or Pane all’Erbe

from Carol Field’s The Italian Baker

½ C packed parsley leaves, chopped fine

3 Tbs finely chopped onion (about a ⅓ of a medium sized onion)

1 large clove of finely chopped garlic

1 cup sourdough starter

1 C + 2 Tbs warm water

1 Tbs olive oil

3 ¾ C flour

2 tsp salt

In a mixing bowl combine the yeast and water, stir, and let sit for 10 minutes.

Add the olive oil, parsley, garlic, and onion and mix.

Mix the salt and four together. If using your stand-mixer slowly add 1 C of flour to the water/yeast/herb and mix until dough pulls away from the sides.

Using the dough hook knead on medium for 3 minutes. Take the dough out and finish kneading on a flour dusted board until the dough becomes elastic and smooth. About 5 minutes of hand kneading.

Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise for 90 minutes.

Punch the dough down, divide into two equal halves (or not), and knead briefly. Shape into small rounds, place on parchment paper or cornmeal dusted board and allow dough to rise 45-60 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Place loaves in oven and bake for 40-45 minutes or until they sound hollow when thumped on the bottom.

Remove from oven and cool on wire racks. No herb butter needed for these!

Mini Cauliflower Bites, or Plant Gout

Cauliflower, to me, looks like a plant with gout. Not hard to tell I’m back on the old medicine service! Meanwhile, major developments in the backyard garden—cauliflower ready to harvest—only took 75 days of staring at it to get it to bloom. I used to eat Pizza Bagel Mini Bites when I was in grade school, and when I saw the recipe for these Cauliflower Bites, it took me back. It’s like a veggie pizza and a muffin had a baby.

Mini Cauliflower Bites

Adapted from HyVee Seasons

5 c. roughly chopped, trimmed cauliflower (about 16 ounces)

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 1/3 c. finely shredded Italian cheese blend, divided

1/2 tsp dried basil

1/4 tsp dried rosemary, crushed

2 tbsp chopped roasted red pepper, divided

2 tbsp thinly sliced green onion, divided

72 gluten-free miniature turkey pepperoni slices, such as Hormel

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Coat 24 (1-3/4-inch) muffin cups with cooking spray; set aside.

Place cauliflower, half at a time, in a food processor. Cover and process with on/off pulses just until cauliflower is finely chopped (do not purée cauliflower). Transfer to a medium microwave-safe bowl. Microwave, uncovered, on high about 8 minutes or until tender, stirring once or twice. If necessary, pat dry with paper towels to remove any excess moisture. Cool.

Add egg, 1 cup cheese, basil, rosemary and salt to cauliflower; stir to combine. Spoon about 1 tablespoon of the mixture into each prepared muffin cup. Press evenly onto the bottoms and up the sides of cups.

Bake for 7 to 8 minutes or until crusts are golden, edges are browned and centers are set. Remove from oven.

Spoon 1/4 teaspoon roasted red pepper and 1/4 teaspoon green onion onto each muffin cup.

Top each with a rounded teaspoon of cheese and 3 pepperoni slices. Bake 2 to 3 minutes more or until cheese is melted. Carefully remove from muffin cups. Serve warm with Tomato Pizza Sauce for dipping, if desired.

West Texas Chili on Cornbread Waffles for Voldemort

I started using a new mascara recently which apparently turns to ash and rains onto the gutters under my eyes, so that each time I find a mirror throughout the day I startle at the face of Voldemort who also happens to be me. Or maybe I really am that tired. This is a morbid way of introducing tonight’s dinner, but I’ve read too much Cormac McCarthy to not associate villains with West Texas. And now I’ll think of Voldemort each time I make a cornbread waffle. Avada kedavra, or Bon appetit.

West Texas Chili

Adapted from Penzeys Spices

1 lb. ground beef, browned

1 lb. pork sausage, browned

1 tsp. ground chipotle powder

1 tsp. ancho chili powder

2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes

1 16-oz. can tomato sauce

1 12-oz. can tomato paste

1 pint (2 Cups) diced fresh tomatoes

20 small-medium jalapeños peppers, diced (use as many as you are comfortable with, discard cores, stems and seeds)

1 medium onion, chopped

5 mild chili peppers, diced (Anaheims, poblanos and/or banana peppers are great)

1 tsp. Fajita seasoning

In a large stockpot over medium-high heat, brown the ground beef and pork sausage. Drain well. Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for at least an hour. Serve over cornmeal waffles.

Cornmeal Waffles

3 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour

2 1/2 Cups cornmeal

2 TB. baking powder

2 tsp. sugar

4 Cups milk

6 TB. olive oil

4 large eggs

In a large bowl mix the dry ingredients. Add the milk, oil and eggs. Mix completely. Pour the batter onto a hot Belgian or regular waffle iron. Cook according to your waffle maker’s instructions. Set each on a baking rack in the oven on low to keep them a little crispy.

To be clear, there is nothing sinister about this dinner, or West Texas for that matter. These were delicious, and I snacked on the extra cornbread waffles for days afterwards–full of flavor.

Beefcake

Healthy team camaraderie is the best way to survive residency. Open lines of communication are vital in patient care, and equally vital to build morale, to keep people coming to work and giving one hundred percent. The psychiatry hospital team I’ve been on this month has got it going on—they even have a mascot—they call themselves Team Beefcake. And yes, they all go to the gym and pump iron at the end of long shifts. As the only lady, and a scraggly non-beefy lady at that, when I joined these guys at the beginning of July, one asked me, “Are you a beefcake?” I stated the obvious, “Well, I do yoga and run long distances. I suppose if I have any beef to claim, I’d say I’m a lean beef noodle.” I did not tell him that the last time I tried to bench press, I struggled to keep the unweighted bar from falling on my forehead. I became a marginal member of the team, until I proved my commitment to Team Beefcake with this culinary masterpiece:

beef·cake [beef-keyk]

noun

1. Somebody really ripped and muscular. Usually male. Beefcakes are usually good-looking and enjoy displaying their muscles.

2. A large and muscular man who enjoys hockey, football, and other sports. He also enjoys eating. The typical beefcake is not the sharpest tool in the shed, in fact he is rather dumb.

3. Someone who really enjoys cake and is also beefy.

4. [new entry] A chocolate and strawberry cake made to look like a slab of beef. May be used as compensation for lack of muscles for those seeking to gain acceptance among true beefcakes.

Here is the secret to making a beefcake of your own. Bake a strawberry cake (I used a Betty Crocker box mix, because this project was yet another late-night epiphany, and the thought of beating egg whites at 2am seemed like overkill) in an 11×16 glass baking dish. Do reps with the baking dish if you think it will improve your definition. Butter the edges of the dish, and your biceps if you have some left over. Allow the baked cake to cool; I even put cakes briefly in the freezer to expedite the cooling process. Cover a baking sheet with tin foil so that it will appear the meat slab is fresh off the grill. Transfer the cake onto the foil as intact as possible. Cut the edges away to create a steak shape. Get chocolate frosting and cover the top and sides completely. Melt 2 oz of white baking chocolate and carefully paint on a T-bone at the larger end of the cake. Then melt 2 oz of bittersweet chocolate in the microwave and with a spatula, and drizzle the liquid dark bittersweet chocolate into parallel lines across the cake, so it looks nice and charred. Bring to the beloved beefcakes in your life and cut a medium rare slice for each.

Chicken Meatball Yakitori

If I learned anything from the 12+ romantic comedies I watched during my last bout of the flu, it’s that one can never have too much romance. Especially between two professionals with full-time jobs. Romance up your life as much as possible, because life is short and love is in shortage (as evidenced by the sheer quantity of rom-coms). If you and your love are in the same physical space over the dinner hour, officially you have a date night. Don’t run for the solitude of your separate computers. Work can wait. Share the sink. Crowd the stove. Make sweet meatball yakitori.

Chicken Meatball Yakitori

Adapted from Food and Wine

1/4 cup sake (I used vodka, because I think sake is worse than foul)

1/4 cup soy sauce

1/4 cup raw sugar

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons mirin

1 pound coarsely ground chicken

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 medium shallot, minced

Finely grated zest of 1 yuzu or lemon

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

In a saucepan, combine the sake, soy sauce, sugar and 1/4 cup of the mirin; boil until reduced to 3/4 cup, 3 minutes. Let cool.

Preheat the oven to 375°. In a bowl, combine the chicken, salt, shallot, zest and the remaining 2 tablespoons of mirin. Lightly coat a rimmed baking sheet with 1 teaspoon of the oil. Form the chicken mixture into 24 meatballs.

Brush the meatballs with the remaining 2 teaspoons of oil and arrange them on the baking sheet. Bake for about 6 minutes, until the meatballs are barely cooked through.

Light a grill. Thread the meatballs onto 8 bamboo skewers and grill over moderately high heat, turning, until lightly charred, about 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to low and brush the meatballs with the sauce. Grill, turning and brushing, until glazed, 30 seconds longer. Serve with the remaining sauce.

Panmarino Rosemary Bread with Auto-Abdominal Exam

So, I say, it is in fact impossible to do a proper abdominal exam on yourself. I haven’t eaten solid food in three days, which is an unconscionable state of affairs for a food blogger, due to what feels like a Charlie Horse of the bowels. At first I thought it was sepsis from the bee that injected its inoculum practically into my heart on Friday. Then I considered all the ominous –itises that present with poorly characterized abdominal pain, but I settled on a self-diagnosis of gastroenteritis and proceeded to lie flat for two days, sipping ginger ale. Now I have rejoined the phalanx of the upright only to drag something like an anchor around in my gut. Of course I’m not going to the doctor; that is not what we doctor people do. We make endless differentials for our aches and pains, an exercise which is in its own right a diversional treatment strategy that works wonders, and then after bothering people in our lives with our therapeutic hemming and hawing, we do nothing and with time and proper fluid and rest it goes away. So it probably was gastroenteritis, but I always keep psychosomatic etiologies high on my own differential. Because, thank God, I know myself, with a smirk. I think therefore I feel. I see therefore I eat.

Panmarino Rosemary Bread

Adapted from The Italian Baker

1 cup sourdough starter

1 cup warm water

1 cup milk, at room temperature

1/3 cup olive oil

3 T fresh rosemary leaves, chopped fine

2 tsp salt

6 ¾ cups all purpose flour

1 tsp coarse sea salt for sprinkling over the bread

Mix the warm water with the sourdough in a large bowl, wait for a few minutes until it gets bubbly. Stir the milk and oil with the paddle blade. Add the rosemary leaves, flour, and salt to the bowl. Mix gently until the flour is moistened.

Place the dough inside an oiled bowl, cover, and let it rise at room temperature until doubled, about 1.5 hours. Carefully remove from the bowl, cut dough in half and shape into two boules, and let it rise for 45 to 55 minutes, but don’t allow it to double in size.

As you wait for the final rise, heat the oven to 450F. Slash the bread with a razor blade forming an asterisk on top, then sprinkle coarse salt inside the cuts.

Bake 10 minutes with steam, reduce the oven temperature to 400F and bake for 35 minutes more. Remove the bread to a rack to cool, and don’t cut it for at least one hour.

This afternoon I lied on the kitchen floor and tried to palpate my abdominal organs, but the angles were all off. I noted guarding, but it is also possible that I just wanted to believe that my yoga practice works. Diffuse tenderness to palpation and percussion in all quadrants, hyperactive bowel sounds (baseline, no worries there), no obvious distension (but of course a woman would never say such a thing about herself), no hepatosplenomegaly (in fact, per my exam, I may very well be microsplenic and microhepatic, or… maybe it just felt uncomfortable so I stopped looking). Diagnosis: who cares because I think it’s going away, as evidenced by my ability to keep down tasty bread such as this.

Gozleme with Soppressata and Napa Cabbage

I thought this turned out much like a quiche quesadilla. Thrilled to have this featured at Sourdough Surprises http://sourdoughsurprises.blogspot.com/ my favorite food blog community! I have to give all the credit for the soppressata addition to my mother, who gifted me some on her last visit. The cabbage is thanks to my CSA, Earth Dance Farms.

Sourdough Gozleme with Soppressata and Napa Cabbage

2 ½ cups whole wheat pastry flour

½ cup sourdough starter

1 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup olive oil

¾ cup water

Extra olive oil for the pan.

Mix flour, starter, salt, oil, and water together, knead lightly and let rest in a covered oiled bowl for one hour.

Soppressata and Sweet Pepper Filling

2 ounces minced soppressata

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion, minced

6 garlic cloves, minced

1 jalapeno, deseeded and minced

Chives and green onion as you like

Napa Cabbage, Egg and Yogurt Cheese Filling

Half a head of Napa cabbage, minced into strips

2 eggs

2 ounces yogurt cheese

A handful of chives or green onion, diced

1 tsp cumin

1 TB olive oil

Pinch of paprika

Meanwhile, while the dough is resting, make your filling of choice. For the soppressata filling, I sautéed the onion till soft and slightly caramelized, then added garlic. Add spices. Add soppressata and peppers and jalapeno.

Save out some caramelized onions and garlic if you wish to add to the napa cabbage filling if you plan to make both. The Napa cabbage filling is easy—I used yogurt cheese because my mother was visiting and she has a slight milk allergy. Just mix all the ingredients, and set aside until you are ready to toast the bread.

Once the dough has rested, divide it into 4 equal pieces and roll out each ball as thin as possible.

The dough should be silky and easily rolled. I roll out each ball to the diameter of my frying pan. Add the cooled topping to two of the rolled out balls and use the other two rolled out balls to place on top and cover. Basically, use quesadilla technique. Be sure to add olive oil to hot pan between gozlemes.

Gently lift the Gozleme off your bench top and place onto the stove, cooking it for 5-6 minutes per side until golden brown and crisp. Spray/brush your pan with more oil between sides.

Pane al Formication, er, Formaggio

Bitten I thought I was by Cupid’s arrow on the morning of my seventh wedding anniversary, but No. It was in fact a hornet. There I was, flying into my Friday at an eye-opening clip on the moped, my blouse, apparently, open. Within sight of the hospital, I felt a thwap on my chest which I assumed was a rock or a nut loosed from one of the trees overhead. Then the shoot of pain tearing through my left breast. I kid you not, I could feel the sting in my left hand and up the left side of my neck, and wondered for a blink if all the French fries I have eaten in my life have finally come back to haunt me. Turns out, I was stung in the heart, or at least near enough that my nerves could tell no difference.

This is how I know I missed my calling to serve in the military. At 30 mph, I neither swerved nor slowed while a hornet ground its nethers into my chest. I crushed the wasp and flicked its crinkled corpse into the air, while trying to distract myself with the jokes I might tell my team once I made it to work. “If I were a flat-chested woman, I would consider myself lucky to get this particular sting. Might have even let the bug do the other side.” The welt remains like a pseudo boob. Which, I suppose, is for KP an unexpected anniversary gift in its own right. Happy 7th!

Pane al Formication, er, Formaggio

Adapted from The Italian Baker

1 cup sourdough starter

1 cup warm water

2 eggs, room temperature

2 tablespoons olive oil

3 ¾ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons salt

¾ cup grated Parmesan cheese

½ cup grated pecorino cheese

Cornmeal

1 egg white, beaten

Stir in the sourdough into the water in a large mixing bowl; let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Whisk in the eggs and oil. Mix the flour and salt and stir half into the mixture; stir in the remaining flour with the cheese. Knead on a lightly floured surface, sprinkling with 2 or 3 tablespoons additional flour as needed, until firm, elastic and silky, 8 to 10 minutes. The texture may be slightly gritty from the cheese.

Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled, about 2 hours.

Punch the dough down on a lightly floured surface and knead briefly. Cut the dough in half and shape each piece into a round loaf or a log that is fatter in the middle and tapered at the ends. Place on a baking sheet or peel sprinkled with cornmeal, cover with a towel, and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.

Thirty minutes before baking, heat the oven with a baking stone in it to 425. Just before baking, brush the loaves with the egg white. Slash the long loaves with 3 parallel cuts, using a razor. Sprinkle the stone with cornmeal and slide the loaves onto it. Bake 40 minutes, spraying 3 times with water in the first 10 minutes. Cool completely on a rack. If you experience the sensation of bugs crawling on or under your skin its because A) You are actually a bread addict and this post has you jonesing; B) You read this post and you are my mother and highly suggestible. Now that you mention it I think I do feel a bee stinging me right now!; or C) You live in Minnesota, and bugs actually are crawling all over you. DEET is no match for the entomological explosion that is this summer.