Pane di Como ala Freud

One reason I enjoy psychiatry so much is because my poetic sensibility makes me a natural at the Freud game. I have no problem finding associations to fit Freudian slips. Latest case being the attempt at this recipe. I “accidentally” made it into a double-triple batch because I “misread the instructions.” While spending the extra time to add the extra ingredients and knead not two but six loaves, I contemplated the Freudianness of my slip. I think the slip serves two purposes, and therefore, was not at all an accident but the sabotage of my subconscious. It is, I’ll admit, poor form to be both analyst and analysand.

Interpretation 1: Because I am hella busy I am not eating as much/providing as much food for my family (aka KP). The accidental expansion of the recipe might be interpreted, then, as an overcompensation and an opportunity to stand in one place for more than 15 minutes and be still.

Interpretation 2: This is displacement, a manifestation of some heretofore unrecognized desire of mine to expand something else. Perhaps, my studying? Probably not–more likely another book project.

Interpretation 3: Bread dough as totem to lived experience. It was satisfying to stare at a sprawling mass of dough and feel that it was out of control as an externalization for what I feel within myself. That dough is just going to keep growing and growing if I don’t knead it into shape and put in the oven. In some figurative way, I’ve got to figure out how to do that precise thing with my mind this week. Got a shelf exam looming tomorrow and lots of burgeoning loose ends to tie up before going to San Francisco this weekend–akin to the organizing qualities of gluten. Once I’m on the plane, perhaps I will enjoy “identification” with my bread—to feel what it is to go into the oven (not at all in a Sylvia Plath way, don’t worry), risen and ready. To arrive on the other side of the oven door, crisp and hot, ready to be brought to a party’s table—wedding party in this case! Can’t wait to see you Anders and Kaylie. Oakland is about to heat up.

Pane di Como

Adapted from The Italian Baker

Starter

¾ cup sourdough starter

1 scant teaspoon malt syrup

⅓ C warm water

2/3 C milk room temperature

1 C all-purpose flour

Combine and mix the yeast, malt syrup, and water. Let it stand about 10 minutes, until it becomes foamy. Stir in the milk and flour. Whisk until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit for at least 4 hours or overnight.

Dough

2 C water, room temperature

6 ¼ C unbleached all-purpose flour (I used 2 cups of this with whole wheat pastry flour—a mistake, I think. Won’t do next time. I think the loaf suffered structurally for that decision)

1 Tbs salt

Cornmeal

Add the water to the starter and mix until the starter is broken up. Add the flour and salt and mix well for a few minutes. Finish kneading by hand, 6-8 minutes more.Place dough in an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let rise for 90 minutes. The dough should be doubled in size and look bubbly and blistered.

Remove from bowl and cut dough in half. Shape into rounds/boules and place each in a banneton or a bowl lined with a well-floured towel. Cover with towels and allow to rise for 60 mins.

Pre-heat your oven to 400°F. If you are using a baking stone, dust the stone with some cornmeal then invert the loaves onto the stone. Spray with water–this is the key to good crust.

Bake for about 60 minutes or until you get that hollow sound from tapping the bottom of the loaf. Cool the freshly baked bread on racks.

Slow Cooker Bread– Psych.

My bulldog is exhibiting signs of regression, and I’m wondering how much of this has to do with me. She chewed up KP’s ultra-marathon hat this week and ate a package of Post-It notes that were sitting next to my psychiatry study books. Usually stoic, Izzy has been whimpering and licking my face like a needy child. Is she sick? Or does she just miss me? Am I bad parent to my bully? As one should never get in the habit of doing with their own family members, but mostly to study for my upcoming psych shelf exam, I went through the exercise of determining what Izzy’s psychiatric diagnoses would be were I making a clinical assessment as her bulldog shrink.

Axis I: Adjustment disorder NOS, double depression (MDE overlaid upon longstanding dysthymic disorder)

Axis II: Obsessive compulsive personality disorder (object fixation: Food—egosyntonic)

Axis III: obstructive sleep apnea, intractable flatulence refractory to diet modification and Beano, otherwise healthy

Axis IV: Current situational stressors: 1) parental neglect since her mother re-entered medical school clerkships, and since her father began his second Masters degree in ophthalmology for blind students 2) spayed late and now sexually frustrated. 3) Major lifelong regret—never caught a squirrel or rabbit in a chase.

Axis V: baseline GAF—50-60, now in the 30s due to few friends, having mostly conflicts with peers (alright, wild, face-first aggression with any non-human), flat affect, and frequent panic attacks.

Dysthymia, if you ask other bulldog shrinks, is most clinically challenging to assess in bulldogs due to their natural affect. Look at this face. Even when Izzy says she feels great, her affect is restricted and dysphoric, which suggests inappropriate mood-affect incongruity.

Besides Izzy’s regressive fugue, this bread I recently made also caused me significant dysthymia. While I thought cooking bread in a crockpot would be easy and different—not great results. It’s a little too close to a “bread machine” in procedure and taste. I would not recommend it, but for all you Axis II Debbie Downers out there who are more at ease in dysphoria—this one’s for you. All others be warned.

Slow Cooker Bread

Adapted from Hyvee

1 c. warm water, about 110 to 115 degrees
1 tbsp sugar
1 cup sourdough starter
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp finely chopped fresh rosemary
1/8 tsp dried oregano
2 tsp herbes de Provence
1/4 tsp black pepper
2 tbsp Select olive oil
1 1/2 c. white whole wheat flour
1/2 c. all-purpose flour

In a large bowl combine water, sugar and starter. Let sit 10 minutes to proof. Stir in salt, rosemary, oregano, herbes de Provence, black pepper, olive oil and both flours. Form a ball and knead on a clean floured surface, adding more flour if needed to prevent sticking. Once a smooth ball is formed, place in a lightly greased bowl, covered to rise for 1 hour.
Punch down dough and reshape into a ball. Place on parchment paper and put in 4-quart slow-cooker. Turn machine to HIGH; allow to cook for 1-1/2 to 2 hours. Remove from slow-cooker and cool on wire rack. Here’s an affect that is mood congruent.

I would give this bread a GAF of 30. It definitely had a flat affect with a restricted range, incongruous with all of the spices that went in. Side effects of this loaf: blunted taste buds, decreased appetite, and dry mouth. Eating it was like a bad trip on the psychopharm formulary. This post is my blackbox warning against this recipe, lest y’all are tempted to think I’m getting paid by King Arthur’s Flour or The Village Baker to glow on every recipe I make. I consider myself a mandatory reporter of dud recipes. And this is definitely that.

Day of the Dead Onion Bread

Happy Day of the Dead. Having the day off, I decided to celebrate the holiday spending an hour or two in corpse pose. Izzy joined me and snored loudly.

Also, on the Day of the Dead, I’ve been dwelling on my beloveds departed, which makes me tearful. So I went for the onions instead of the Kleenex and read over the poem I wrote for cousin Suzie, which, now that I read it again, stands for how I feel about all my loved ones lost. To God I feel selfish for them back.

After she departed,

I went home and watched

a cup of tea steam.

Water curled round to air.

Grey ribbon tendrils

like soft hair blown on a pillow

Issued clean

off the surface of things.

As if the seething

crust of water and sand

had grown too close, too sate,

too teamed with rattle and moan.

Sick of jostle, the wisps of her flew.

On curled vapors she

lengthened. Suspending slow, up

around and around her gown,

a fume, a shroud twirled and blew.

It was not clear

in the tea steam

dripping like a backward tear into my eyes

it was not clear

between Heaven and Earth

or between God and me

who pulled

on their end of her

the harder.

Onion Wheat Bread

For those crying and for those who need help crying on the Day of the Dead

Saute in olive oil one large yellow onion that you have sliced extremely thin.

Make this sponge and let sit out, covered, for two or three hours

1 cup sourdough starter

1 cup warm water

1 tbsp honey

3 tbsp milk

2 tbsp olive oil

1 cup whole wheat flour

Then, to make the dough, include all the sponge, with 1 ½ tsp salt, ¼ cup water, 2 cups flour (I did one white, one wheat), and the onion mixture you sauted in the beginning, now cool. Fold half or 2/3 of the onions like so.

I decided to make rolls, because I didn’t have much time to let them bake. I allowed the rolls to rise for an hour, and baked them at 400 for 15 minutes. If you were to do a big loaf, allow to rise until doubled and bake at 400 for 35 minutes. Also, before you throw them in to bake, glaze with water and add the rest of the onions on top. Bake and cry.

Then paint, play music and dance. Crying optional. As it goes, “In the midst of life we are in death.” Latin America picks up their feet, and New Orleans picks up their trombones. And as for me, I rattle my bones.

If you look carefully at my painting, which has no official title, perhaps Lacrimosa Shindig, there are red notes coming out of the violin held by the skeleton in the lower right quadrant. I don’t know that it means anything, but it delights me. In the midst of life we are in death; in the midst of death, there is life.

Moroccan Butternut Squash Soup

Every autumn I impulse-buy a couple of squashes. I can’t stand it, they make me giggle. Gourds are the most Muppety of all vegetables. They just delight me, and so I absently put them in the cart. Once home, what to do with several pounds of earthen tubers? Squash them, of course. Halloween is the perfect occasion to do so–you can squash your squash right after you smash pumpkins.

Moroccan Butternut Squash Soup

Adapted from Cooking with Curls

1 large yellow onion (chopped)

Kosher salt

1 1/2 Tablespoons olive oil

2 pounds butternut squash (peeled, seeded, chopped into 1 1/2-inch chunks)

2 Tablespoons ketchup

1 teaspoon Spice Mixture

4 cups hot water

1/2 cup heavy cream or full fat coconut milk (I used both)

1/4 pound cheese

1 teaspoon garlic and chili paste

sea salt & fresh ground pepper (to taste)

Spice Mixture (I will be looking for other recipes to sprinkle this into—tasty and exotic blend)

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

1 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon cubeb pepper (I used chili powder)

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Mix spices together, and store in a sealed jar in a cool, dark place.

In a large Dutch oven, toss together onion, kosher salt, and olive oil. Cover and steam over medium-low heat until the onion is soft, about 10 minutes. Add the squash, cover and steam for 20 minutes.

Add the ketchup, spices, and water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until the squash is tender, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat and puree until smooth. This will look like baby food. Mentally prepare to deny this very question from coworkers. “No, I’m not eating a jar of baby food—I made squash soup for myself.” And then the second annoying question, “When do you have time to cook?” Since I’m on psychiatry right now, I’ve become probably annoyingly redirective with most of my responses, “Tell me more about what you think it means to ‘have’ and ‘spend’ time.” Or, “Tell me, what do you see when you look at a squash?”

Add the cream, three-quarters of the crumbled cheese, and the garlic paste. Puree until velvety smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Ladle soup into bowls and sprinkle with remaining cheese.

Dress up your bulldog like an Angel, tell her she is beautiful and have her smile like a cherub.

Put your hair in 40s fingerwaves and tell yourself you are a white Billie Holiday while doing your rounds in the psych hospital.

Halloween is a wonderful day to take your delusions out for a spin. I know I will.

Hallucinatory Aroma Bread and Spinach Dip

Lately I did ponder, with good reason in the ER, the differential diagnosis for olfactory hallucinations. I came up with the usual suspects: temporal lobe seizures, head injury causing subdural hematoma, brain tumor, severe sinusitis, or stroke. I came home from the ER shift and realized that perhaps I had missed one important item on the differential: this bread. Should this bread crumble into the folds of one’s clothes, or comingle with one’s nares in any manner of ways–I would imagine Aroma Bread could present just so. Be on guard, ER docs. But even if the patient has been to my house and ate this bread, get a CT and EEG just in case.

Aroma Bread with Coriander and Fennel
3 cups whole grain spelt flour
1 cup whole grain rye flour
1/2 cup coarse or medium stone-ground whole grain cornmeal (2 ounces)
1/2 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup flax or sesame seeds
2 tablespoons aroma spice blend (see below)
1 1/2 teaspoons fine sea salt
1/4 teaspoon rapid-rise or instant yeast
1/2 cup whole wheat, rye, Kamut, or spelt berries, soaked overnight and drained (optional)
2 cups cold water
Cornmeal, for sprinkling

Aroma Spice Blend
6 tablespoons whole coriander seeds
3 tablespoons fennel
3 tablespoons caraway seeds

To prepare the dough, start at least 12 hours ahead. Whisk together all the ingredients except the whole grain berries and the water in a large bowl. Scatter the grain berries on top and add almost all the water. Stir with a dough whisk or a wooden spoon until the flour is incorporated. The dough should be wet and sticky to the touch, like firm oatmeal; otherwise, add a bit more water. But don’t worry too much about the liquid-to-flour ratio, as this is a forgiving dough. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature to ferment for at least 12 hours and up to 18 hours.
The next day, finish the bread. Sprinkle a linen or cotton kitchen towel (not terry cloth) with cornmeal and generously flour your work surface. Using a bench scraper or a rubber spatula, scrape the stringy, bubbly dough onto the work surface. Using floured hands, fold it exactly 4 times, always toward the center — from the right and from the left, as well as from the top and the bottom. Turn the loaf upside down so the fold is at the bottom, and set it on the kitchen towel. Fold the towel over the loaf to cover, and let sit for about 1 hour.
After about 30 minutes, position a rack in the bottom third of the oven and preheat to 475°F. Place a 4 1/2- to 5 1/2-quart cast-iron pot or Dutch oven with its lid in the center of the rack. After about 1 hour, your loaf should have nicely risen. (When you press it with your finger about 1/4 inch deep, the dimple should remain; if not, wait 15 more minutes.)
Using thick pot holders, carefully remove the cast-iron pot from the oven and place it on a couple of folded kitchen towels (to avoid cracking); uncover. Unwrap the dough, sprinkle with a bit more cornmeal, and invert directly from the kitchen towel into the pot, seam side up (it might look a bit wiggly; that’s normal). If the dough doesn’t drop into the center, shake the pot once or twice (use caution, it is hot!).
Cover with the lid and bake for 30 minutes. Uncover and bake until the loaf is nicely browned and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center registers 200°F, 20 to 25 minutes. Using thick pot holders, remove the loaf from the cast-iron pot and transfer to a wire rack. If you can resist, allow to cool completely, about 3 hours, before cutting the loaf with a sharp serrated knife.

Now, it may seem counter-intuitive to add aroma to something with high baseline aroma–but trust me, it works! Make this spinach dip and spread it on top of toasted Aroma bread!

Spinach Dip

Adapted from Hyvee Seasons Magazine

1 (10 oz) package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and liquid squeezed out
1 (6 oz) container nonfat plain yogurt
1 (8 oz) package low-fat shredded mozzarella cheese
1/2 c. shredded Parmesan cheese
1/2 c. 2% milk
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tbsp hot sauce
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp salt
black pepper, to taste
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a medium bowl, combine all ingredients. Transfer to an 8-inch-square baking dish. Bake for 20 minutes or until top is golden.

I was surprised how good this tasted. So surprised, I almost signed myself up for an EEG.

Dialectical Brownie Therapy

I’ll admit it. Sometimes I eat brownies for breakfast. If they happen to be out, and I’m skidding through the kitchen on the whirlwind path to get dressed and upright on the moped and into the hospital, I’ll grab a brownie and chase it with a pot of coffee.

I’m getting help. Actually, I’ve invented my own Crisis Hotline for others with this same problem. I call it Dialectical Brownie Therapy (DBT), an adaptation of a cognitive behavioral therapy I’ve been learning to practice on my current psychiatry rotation. For my version of DBT, as in real DBT, the goal is to seek a synthesis between two extremes, between feeling overly controlled and feeling out of control.

When I ate brownies for breakfast before, I’d get caught in the Hegelian dialectic between 1) my own out of control emotional vulnerability of wanting the goodness of a gooey brownie regardless of the health consequences and 2) the over controlling invalidating environment that shames me for wanting to eat chocolate for breakfast and oversimplifies the ease of reaching for the banana or granola instead. The dialectic is that I get caught between blaming myself and blaming others for the problem of brownies for breakfast. Only after significant work at distress tolerance did I arrive at a revolutionary synthesis: I am fine as I am to have brownies for breakfast (acceptance) AND the brownies need to be radically different, healthier (challenge).

This is the fundamental approach to DBT—to be both entirely supportive of yourself and entirely challenging—at the same time. I love a good paradox. This is also the mark of a good teacher, and, consequently, the mark of a good doctor. Support students/patients while you challenge them. Constant support AND unrelenting challenge. So, I put a can of black beans and ¼ cup of flax seeds into this chocolatey pan of goodness. Now my brownie breakfast has protein and fiber and I can eat them with peace and sublime satisfaction.

Dialectical Brownie Theory

Bean and Flax Brownies

Recipe adapted from the Hyvee Seasons Fall 2013 magazine

Theory adapted from Marsha Linehan, PhD, and Hegel

1 (15 ounce) can black beans, rinsed and drained

1/4 cup flax seeds

1 1/2 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips

1/4 c. unsalted butter

3/4 c. olive oil

1 3/4 c. sugar

1 tbsp vanilla extract

3 large eggs

1 1/3 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 c. plus 2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 c. mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-by-13-inch pan with non-stick cooking spray; set aside.

In a food processor puree black beans with 1/4 cup flax seeds until smooth, scraping the sides of bowl as needed. This will look so gross. Practice self-soothing.

Place a large heat-safe bowl over a pan of boiling water. Add pureed black beans, 1-1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips and butter to bowl. Stir with a wire whisk until butter and chocolate are melted and combined. Remove from heat. Add olive oil and mix until combined. Stir sugar and vanilla into chocolate mixture until smooth.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-by-13-inch pan with non-stick cooking spray; set aside. Place a large heat-safe bowl over a pan of boiling water. Add pureed black beans, 1 ½ cups semi-sweet chocolate chips and butter to bowl. Stir with a wire whisk until butter and chocolate are melted and combined. Remove from heat. Add olive oil and mix until combined. Stir sugar and vanilla into chocolate mixture until smooth. Add eggs 1 at a time. Mix thoroughly between additions until all 3 eggs have been added.

In a large bowl sift flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and salt. Mix until combined. Add chocolate mixture to flour mixture and stir until just combined. Pour into prepared baking pan and smooth top of brownies with a spatula. Sprinkle mini chocolate chips on top of batter.

Bake brownies for 35 minutes. They may seem underdone but will continue to bake in pan after removed from oven.

Each time I bring one of these brownies to my lips I get the warm fuzzy knowing how supportive I am being of myself. And, as I’m doing so, I feel ready for the next challenge, the brownies can be healthier still—maybe next time I make these, I’ll add bananas or something.

**To be clear, I love DBT. By appropriating the acronym for my silly brownie blog post, I mean no disrespect, and wish to convey no satire. I have high esteem for the real DBT and think the whole world and the world’s grandmother should practice these skills on the regular. **

Peanut Butter Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

I have come to an important fashion verdict in my late twenties. It is only a good idea to wear trendy high heeled shoes if, and only if, you have every last scrap of yourself together. If you think flashy shoes are going to serve as a distractor from the sloppy squalor of the duck herd you call your life, you are sorely mistaken. Impractical shoes, for the stricken woman, will seem rather more a totem to her topplability (I invented this word) than a marker of her height. No one will say, but those shoes. They will use the other conjunction—And, those shoes, to indicate how the shoes are yet one more flaw on a sad and shameful litany of misfires, social but mostly neural.

On the contrary, if you really have your shiz together, flashy shoes cease to be counted as evidence against your practicality and are instead a pinnacle of achievement, of flair. AND, those shoes! One more impossible mountain you have stood upon, sexily.

Last time I made oatmeal raisin cookies it was to make my favorite surgeon happy. This time around, the cookies are to celebrate my favorite nurse, Janelle, who last night won the privilege of hosting this year’s Art on the Ave block party at her finely landscaped house—on our block! Janelle—these cookies are in honor of you. I’ll make these for you all the time, since they are your favorite. Can’t wait for the big day in May. We’ll put your gorgeous face on all the T-shirts, and sell them paired with brioche.

Peanut Butter Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

1 c. creamy peanut butter

3/4 c. packed brown sugar

½ c white sugar

2 large eggs

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp salt

2/3 c. rolled oats

2/3 c. raisins

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Beat together peanut butter, brown sugar, eggs, baking soda, vanilla and salt until thoroughly mixed. Stir in oats and chocolate pieces. Drop by rounded tablespoons, 2 inches apart on parchment-lined or ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake for 9 to 11 minutes or until edges are golden. Cool 2 minutes on baking sheet; remove and cool on wire rack.

Izzy approves: today will be a high-heeled day, as opposed to my typical Dansko days of late. All is in balance. I can only take a step up from here—onto platform soles. Or, perhaps it’s what I read into the three fortune cookies I have already eaten before 6am. Medical school makes psychological rationalization so easy.

Cajun Poutine

Oh Lord, here we have a taste. “Taste” in this case needs no prepositional phrase, no simile. This dish is perfect, it is a heart attack on a plate, and it is as Cajun as it gets. This dish opened a tunnel into the future through which I can see Mardi Gras, I can smell the grease, I can hear the Zydeco coming down the street and pounding from the windowpanes of colorful houses. This dish had me dancing at the stove. I hate to post it on a Monday—because it’s a taste for Friday night. Or any given Tuesday in New Orleans.

Cajun Poutine

Adapted from Food and Wine Oct 2013 (that Mom sent to me in a care package)

PIMENTO CHEESE

1 red bell pepper

1 jalapeño

1 pound sharp white cheddar cheese, shredded (3 1/4 cups)

1/4 cup mayonnaise

2 tablespoons sour cream

1/2 tablespoon chopped cilantro

1/2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Kosher salt

Freshly ground pepper

ANDOUILLE GRAVY

1 tablespoon sunflower seed oil

1/2 pound andouille sausage, cut into 1/4-inch dice

3/4 cup finely chopped onion

1/3 cup finely chopped green bell pepper

1/2 tablespoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour (I added another tsp because it didn’t look roux-y enough for me)

1/4 cup chopped tomato (used my own from my garden! The THRILL, you real farmers will giggle)

1 1/2 cups chicken stock or low-sodium broth

1/4 cup thinly sliced scallion

Kosher salt

POUTINE

4 cups cooked french fries

1/2 pound cooked popcorn shrimp

Roast the red pepper and jalapeño directly over a gas flame or under a preheated broiler, turning, until charred all over. Transfer the red pepper and jalapeño to a large bowl, cover tightly with plastic and let cool for 15 minutes. Peel, seed and stem the red pepper and jalapeño, then cut them into 1/4-inch dice.

In a large bowl, mix half of the red pepper with half of the jalapeño; reserve the rest for another use. Add the cheese, mayonnaise, sour cream, cilantro, lemon juice and cayenne to the bowl and mix well; season with salt and pepper. Chill for at least 2 hours.

In a medium cast-iron skillet, heat the oil. Add the andouille and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until the fat is rendered and the sausage is crispy, 8 minutes. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until translucent, 3 minutes. Stir in the green pepper and garlic and cook, stirring, until the garlic is fragrant, 2 minutes. Sprinkle in the flour and stir until incorporated; add the tomato and cook over moderately low heat, stirring, until it starts to break down, 3 minutes.

Add the stock and bring to a simmer; cook until the gravy is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, 5 minutes. Stir in the scallions and season with salt.

Preheat the oven to 450°. Spread the french fries on a heatproof serving platter. Spoon the gravy all over the fries and top with the crayfish. Dollop 1 cup (this is ridiculous, I put 2 cups) of the pimento cheese all over the fries; reserve the rest for another use. Bake the poutine for about 10 minutes, until the cheese is bubbly and melted. Serve immediately. Hook up a Holter monitor on yourself for the next two days, just in case. Pairs well with KP’s latest brew for Oktoberfest.

Xichuan Garlic Bread

This morning I am shindigging and James Brown-sliding in socks across the kitchen floor. Celebrate! Finished up another shelf exam yesterday afternoon! As I dance, the instrumental percussion through my speakers is being audibly supplemented by none other than my cervical and thoracic vertebrae—clicking and hissing after having been locked tight in study-mode. This week I’ve sung myself hoarse, three gigs! Last night finished off with some tunes at the Redwood Room. Had the strange experience of singing the gospel ballad God Bless the Child (“who’s got his own”) to Steve Barlow—one of the richest dudes in Rochester, owner of Barlow Plaza. Then I was paid in whisky (which is rather ghetto—probably last time I sing there.)

I was most handsomely paid last Sunday afternoon, when a six year old came to meet me on stage at a break. She did not ask for autograph, she said, “Do you guys have anything I can play?” What a great attitude. She’ll never be a groupie—that six year old is a natural diva. I found her an egg shaker and welcomed her on stage for the opening of the next set. Hilarious. She then delivered the following thank you note before her parents whisked her away. I love the way she drew my knee popping out sultrily—and, of course, my ample curves.

Let’s see, I have big plans for baking adventures this weekend. Seriously, so much culinary energy is pent up inside. We’ll start with what I made last night for dinner. A surprisingly good pocket bread from China. If you are impatient, this is the bread for you. The boiling water cooks the starch in the flour and makes it elastic (without waiting for the eon-ic natural history of gluten to soften with kneading, etc.)

Xichuan Garlic Pepper Bread

Adapted from Flatbreads and Flavors

DOUGH:

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 ¼ cups wheat flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup boiling water

1/2 cup plus 5 tablespoons cold water

FILLING:

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon sunflower oil

6 teaspoon garlic (chopped fine or minced)

Sprinkle of Xichuan pepper (I didn’t have any, so used white pepper)

1 cup finely chopped scallions (white and tender green parts) or 1 cup finely chopped garlic chives

Place the flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl and mix well. Pour the boiling water onto the flour, then add the cold water and stir until the mixture forms a shaggy ball. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead briefly, then cover with plastic wrap and wait 15 minutes.

Split the dough into eight even pieces, roll into balls. Do a little dance, if you too have the weekend off.

Cover the ones you aren’t working with. Roll dough balls flat with a rolling pin. Place a ½ tsp sunflower oil in the center and spread evenly over surface.

Sprinkle about 2 tbsp scallions, a tsp of minced garlic (which is a lot, but I love garlic—temper as you wish) and a pinch of pepper over the dough, and then roll up like a small Xichuan dough carpet.

Then roll flat again with the rolling pin.

You probably are supposed to reconstitute the round shape, but I like the little sleeping bag bread pockets. Throw them on a medium-heat heavy skillet that is oiled and cook for 3-4 minutes on each side until browned. James browned, if you’re really feeling good.

So good!

Pumpkin Spice Challah Back At Me

The tire popped on my moped two weeks ago as I sped out of the Johnny Mango parking lot. Not my finest hour. A chivalrous man came to my rescue on the side of the road and helped me to wheel the scooter into Kwik Trip for free air. He then proceeded to fill it up for me when I got confused about how to use the machine. He also had a tire pressure gauge in his car, which I apparently also needed. Men—do strive to be Prince Charmingly like this guy—have a tool belt and a glove compartment full of patches and other handy trinkets at the ready at all times. I confess I do often pretend to be more helpless and more distressed than I really am in situations like these because I can tell Man as Rescuer loves their rare, and ever rarer moments of damsel-in-distress heroism. All that to say, I’m a damn good damsel.

Following that episode of deflation, the tire had to be replaced, KP and my neighbor Eric exhibited yet more chivalry on behalf of the busted tire, taking the moped to a special shop and then home again to fuss and tinker in the garage, then back to the shop. Two weeks and a hundred dollars later, I’m gleefully back in business, albeit admittedly the entertainment business as I have decorated the scooter with a festive flower vase and a mudflap bumper sticker of a silhouetted naked lady (which Mom gave me) reading a book next to my MFA program slogan which reads “Beauty will save the world.” Entertainment because even on Broadway, my max speed is 25 mph (read: I love my brain and current intact cranial architecture). People wave at me like I’m a parade float rather than a motor vehicle, or maybe it’s because I’m smiling like an idiot. I love my moped. Watch out for Speedy Red coming down the avenue—I plan to joyride this thing until my knuckles freeze to the throttle—which may very well be this Friday. Autumn leaves are falling fast.

Coming into the home stretch with the neurology rotation, I’m trying to take my understanding of neuro-anatomy to the next level. Braiding challah is a good excuse to review the brachial plexus. But, admittedly, reading my Neuro book makes me feel like (click) Izzy when she listens to Billie Holiday. Methinks I’m not a neurologist. If surgery made me feel young at heart, neurology has made me feel elderly at heart. Or, at least this week on stroke service, ever more wary of elderly hearts. And of mine own breaking with every patient I see. Neuro is tough on the empathetic.

Pumpkin Spice Challah

Adapted from The Village Baker

2 cups sourdough starter

2 cups warm water

2 whole eggs and one egg white

3 tbsp sunflower oil

3 tbsp sugar

1 tbsp salt

1 tbsp pumpkin spice

6 cups white flour

Glaze 1 egg beaten with 1 tbsp cold milk and poppy seeds or sesame seeds for topping

Mix yeast with water, oil, eggs, sugar, pumpkin spice, and then start adding the flour and salt in small bits until thoroughly incorporated. This should take like 10 minutes. Meditate. Empty dough onto work table and knead for 5 minutes. When the dough is soft like satin, round into a ball and put to rest and rise in an oiled bowl. Let rise until it doubles. Punch dough back down and split into six equal sized pieces. Roll each into a thick strand and braid two loaves of three strands each. Set on parchment to rise for maybe an hour or two. Then glaze and bake at 400 degrees for 25-30 minutes. While you’re waiting for the loaves to come out of the oven, study the brachial plexus, med students. Then, Challah!

Give one loaf to a neighbor you haven’t seen in a while. Or someone you’ve been remiss in loving on. Track down the chivalrous random guy who helped you with your tire and do something equally random and chivalrous. Do so without expectation that your love will come back to you. Give give and give again, without requirement. I think this is the overlooked answer to the secret of life.

Challah.