Grissini

I think more than for their food, I love Italians for their words. Grissini. This word for breadstick struck me on a personal level because it hybridizes two of the nicknames my mother had for me when I was young, well, young but old enough to be mischievous. The nicknames weren’t so much monikers of endearment as of what-do-you-think-you’re-doing, Grisselda? What-do-you-think-you’re-doing-you-little-Weenie? Grisselda + Weenie = Grissini.

Grissini

Italian Breadsticks

Adapted from Baking Illustrated

Ingredients: (Make the same dough as for regular pizza dough)

1/2 cup warm water (about 110°)
1 envelope (2 1/4 tsp.) instant yeast (or a cupful of sourdough starter)
1 1/4 cups water, at room temperature
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
2 cups (22 oz.) bread flour, plus more for dusting (used all-purpose)
2 cups whole-wheat flour
1 1/2 tsp. salt
olive oil or non-stick cooking spray for greasing the bowl and for spraying the sticks
topping of your choice (I used Parmesan cheese, 1 tsp fennel seeds, 1 tbsp kosher salt and black pepper

Method:

Combine the flour, yeast, and salt in a large bowl
Combine the water and olive oil in a liquid measuring cup, add to dough.
Knead until dough is smooth, maybe 5 minutes or so.
Place the dough in a lightly oiled container. Cover the container and let the dough ferment at room temperature until doubled in volume, about 1.5 – 2 hours.
Preheat the oven to 350F.
Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.
Divide the dough into four equal pieces. The steps that follow will be repeated for each of the four pieces. Keep the pieces you’re not working with covered.
On a floured counter, roll the dough out into a rectangle about 12 x 8 inches. The exact dimensions are not critical.
Cut the dough into strips of equal width. A pizza cutter works very well for this.
Fold each strip over on itself. On an unfloured surface, roll the strip into a long snake. Make it a bit longer than the length of your baking sheet, to allow for spring-back.
Place the snakes evenly spaced across the width of the parchment-lined baking sheet.
Lightly spray or brush the grissini with olive oil and sprinkle on the topping.
Bake at 350F for 25 – 30 minutes, until golden brown.
Cool on a wire rack.

I burnt my grissini a little bit on the bottom (which sounds like a euphemism), making them even crispier and so tasty. 5 stars. I could have made them thinner and more pencil-like but my oven isn’t very long and I was too impatient to devote labor to wriggling the dough into a worm ribbon. Even like fat fingers they were still crunchy. That was the worst way I could have phrased that. Sorry.

Also, Izzy would like to make an important announcement from her perch at the front door: “Spring is happening right now. Watch.”

Pain de Regime Au Levain

Give me my sin again, we are in National Poetry month, and it is around the anniversary of both the death and birth of Sir William Shakespeare. So, I have a sonnet to share which likens love to food, and the difficulty of finding a middle way—contentment—between too little and too much, starvation and gluttoned satiety.

Sonnet 75.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As ‘twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better’d that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

Pain de Regime Au Levain

Sourdough Whole-Grain Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

1 tsp yeast

1 ½ cups warm water

2 cups dark rye flour

¾ cups rye meal (or cracked rye grain)

¼ cups wheat bran

1 ½ whole wheat levain

I tbsp sea salt

Combine all the flours and make a fountain on a workspace. Add all the levain (chopped up) and all of the water and yeast into the font of the flour fountain. Add the salt when all but the last of the flour has been added, and knead for five more minutes until dough springs back when touched. Follow the rest of the pain de campagne recipe, adjusting only the first rising time (2 hours) and the second rising time (6 hours). Preheat oven to 450 degrees and slide loaf onto a baking stone. Immediately turn the oven temp down to 400, and bake for 60-70 minutes.

This loaf is hard to glutton on because it didn’t taste that great. I might have let the levain sit too long, but also, I think it is a matter of the rye not tasting right unless it is allowed to sponge incubate overnight. This loaf is incredibly dense—probably a soup dipper only. In fact, I might hollow out the middle and put a chowder in there.

The other line in the sonnet that speaks to me today is the bit about the “as sweet-season’d showers are to the ground” – we are in late April, and last night, it snowed no such sweetness. I am, in fact, becoming bitter about the dogged winter here. I need the Earth to thaw and colorful things to push forth into the world again.

Bruschetta

I’ve been steeped in bread over here, as well as in Italian poetry. The cosmic collision of the two, along with an overage of tomatoes in the refrigerator, resulted in an epiphany: I could be making bruschetta.

Bruschetta

Adapted from Emeril Lagasse’s recipe

Ingredients
20 (1/2-inch) slices French or Italian bread
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
3 medium tomatoes, seeded and small diced
2 tablespoons basil chiffonade, plus more for garnishing (I did no such chiffonading, much to my chagrin because I love the verb, as I had no fresh basil on account of the Earth still being frozen here–I sprinkled dry basil instead)
1 lemon, vested
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon minced garlic
2 anchovy fillets, minced (I, of course, did not put these in)
Grated Parmesan, optional

Directions
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
Place the slices of French bread (I used the wheat bran bread I made a few days ago) on a baking sheet and lightly brush with half of the olive oil. Season with half of the salt and half of the pepper. Bake until lightly golden and crispy, about 20 minutes. Set aside to cool.
While the toasts are baking combine the remaining ingredients in a non-reactive bowl and stir to blend.
Serve each toast with a heaping tablespoon of the tomato mixture and garnish with additional basil and grated Parmesan, if desired.

Earth Day. I imagine bruschetta would be an appropriate Earth Day appetizer for those still doggedly espousing the Flat Earth model. You could float the little heaped bruschettas in an infinity pool, little discs of land in the ocean, and discuss theories of what gods or giant snakes wait at the waterfall edges of the world. Or, if you are a believer in spheres, as our sphere tilts toward the grace of the sun for a season, you could make these and lie on a blanket in the center of your lawn, enjoying your annual free trip around the sun, while the great world spins beneath you.

Pain de Regime Sur Poolish

Rye bread is best when prepared by the sponge method, I believe. This bread is SUPER healthy, and tasty, but, as Janelle points out, needs a little butter. Its crumb is the color of ash, almost a lavender-grey. When I eat a slice, I feel as though I have had two breakfasts. One slice sustains until after noon.

Pain de Regime Sur Poolish

Whole Grain Sponge Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

Sponge

2 packages yeast (or two cups sourdough starter)

2 cups warm water

1 cup all-purpose flour

½ cup rye flour

½ whole wheat flour

Dough

¾ cup warm water

All of the sponge

1 ½ cups whole wheat flour

1 cup barley flour

1 cup crushed 6-grain cereal (buckwheat, rye, oats, barley, triticale, and wheat, any mix can be used)

1 tbsp sea salt

The sponge should be mixed together and allowed to sit for at least 3 hours. I let it sit for 6 hours. For the dough, mix the sponge into the tap water, and slowly add the flours (all pre-mixed together). Sprinkle the salt over the dough toward the end of the mixing and knead on a work surface for 5 minutes. Let rise for 1 ½ hours, and then shape it into a round loaf. Allow to proof in a banneton (canvas-lined basket) for 45 minutes to an hour. Slash and bake at 425 degrees for 55-60 minutes.

Probably because KP left town today without me, I am drawn to this passage in The Divine Comedy, Paradiso Canto 17: “This is the arrow that the bow of exile/ shoots first. You are to know the bitter taste/ of others’ breads, how salt and stone it is, and know/ how hard it is for one who goes descending and ascending others’ stairs.”

The sting of exile, here, is contingent on the quality of bread at home. Paradise contingent on homemade bread? I rather admire the notion.

Pain de Son

This is not exactly wheat bread, but French bread that has bran flakes, so, shall we say, the bread has wheatishness. The old-dough addition provides some acidity and flavor to what would otherwise be a more typically bland bran bread. Very tasty, and powerfood for the pipes if you happen to have a jazz band rehearsal.

Pain de Son

Bran Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

1 ¼ cups warm water

1 tsp active yeast

1 ½ cups pain ordinaire dough (4 hours old is best)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 ½ cups wheat bran

1 ½ tsp sea salt

Dissolve pain ordinaire dough in warm water and stir until creamy. Start adding flour and bran slowly, until all but one cup has been added, and then add the salt and knead by hand on a work surface, adding the remainder of the flour. Let rise for 1 ½ hours, punch it down and let rise again for 30 minutes.

After the second rising, divide dough into two pieces and flatten each piece, square the edges, and roll it into a log. On what would be the last fold, don’t seal it entirely, and allow to rise seam side up, covered, for another hour. It will open up like a hotdog bun, but when baked, will look, well, unfortunate. I don’t know why this is the recommended/traditional wheat bran shape. Hypotheses?

Place on a baking stone in a 450 degree oven, seam side up, and bake for 35 minutes.

Had an experience this morning which reminded me why I call the bobbin trap on the sewing machine the cryhole. I have two sewing machines, both mid-twentieth century Singer models, each with its own dramatically different threading procedure. The Sounders play today, and KP wanted his flag finished to fly in the front yard. Last year we did the first side of the flag in Portland, where my mother is an expert on the surger. Mom was unavailable by phone today, and so I had no one to hand my botch jobs to. Without the wheat bran, I would not have had the stamina with the cryhole to finish the thing.

Chili Con Carne

Until Tuesday, I had only made one chili recipe, that of my mother’s “Bean Soup” from the cookbook she authored, Five Sundays. It is a recipe that ends with the instruction to purchase and ingest Bean-o. It was good, and crockpotable, but this, oh, this. Must be the bacon. This chili, served with the focaccia bread, is an incredible combo.

Chili con Carne

Adapted from Cooks Illustrated mag 1998

(gifted to me from Kim Wiseman)

3 Tbsp. ancho chili powder or 3 medium pods (about 1/2 ounce), toasted and ground.
3 Tbsp. New Mexico chili powder or 3 medium pods (about 3/4 ounce), toasted and ground (mine comes from the Chimayo sanctuary just outside of Santa Fe, where it is said there was a miracle turning barren land into fertile soil that yielded chili peppers—so this is, essentially, holy chili powder, from holy dirt. Most people bought bags of the holy dirt from the Chimayo gift shop. I bought chili powder from the Latino restaurant across the street from the holy site. Best I’ve ever had.)
2 Tbsp. cumin seeds, toasted in a dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 4 minutes, and ground.
2 tsp. dried oregano, preferably Mexican.
1/2 cup water
1 4-pound beef chuck roast, trimmed of excess fat and cut into 1-inch cubes.
2 tsp. salt, plus extra for seasoning.
8 ounces bacon (7 or 8 slices), cut into 1/4-inch pieces.
1 medium onion, minced (about 1 cup).
5 medium garlic cloves, minced.
1 cup canned crushed tomatoes or plain tomato sauce.
2 Tbsp. juice from 1 medium lime.
5 Tbsp. masa harina or 3 Tbsp. cornstarch.
Ground black pepper.

1. Mix chili powders, cumin, and oregano in small bowl and stir in 1/2 cup water to form thick paste; set aside. Toss beef cubes with salt; set aside.

2. Fry bacon in large, heavy soup kettle or dutch oven over medium-low heat until fat renders and bacon crisps, about 10 minutes. Remove bacon with slotted spoon to paper towel-lined plate; pour all but 2 teaspoons fat from pot into small bowl; set aside. Increase heat to medium-high; sauté meat in four batches until well-browned on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch, adding additional 2 teaspoons bacon fat to pot as necessary. Reduce heat to medium, add 3 tablespoons bacon fat to now-empty pan. Add onion; sauté until softened, 5 to 6 minutes. Add garlic and jalaneño; sauté until fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes. Add reserved bacon and browned beef, crushed tomatoes or tomato sauce, lime juice, and 7 cups water; bring to simmer. Continue to cook at steady simmer until meat is tender and juices are dark, rich, and starting to thicken, about 2 hours.

3. Mix masa harina with 2/3 cup water (or cornstarch with 3 Tbsp. water) in small bowl to form smooth paste. Increase heat to medium; stir in paste and simmer until thickened, 5 to 10 minutes. Adjust seasoning generously with salt and ground black pepper. Serve immediately, or preferably, cool slightly, cover, and refrigerate overnight for up to 5 days. Reheat before serving.
Serves 6

5 stars. For another gas, try riding a dalahast at the American Swedish Institute in Minneapolis:

where the kukelagn are Rococo and I learned that even the Scandinavian primitive peoples made coffee a priority (coffee pouches stitched from reindeer hide!)

Rosemary or Parmesan Focaccia Bread

“Every spirit passing through the world fingers the tangible and mars and the mutable, and finally has come to look and not to buy.” Marilynne Robinson, in Housekeeping

This tangible is worth a finger or two. I ate, easily, six pieces. To mar this mutable seems a lovely thing. As close to purchase as it comes.

Rosemary or Parmesan Focaccia Bread
adapted from Baking Illustrated

Sponge
1/2 cup unbleached, all purpose flour
1/2 cup warm water [100-110 degrees]
1 cup sourdough starter

Combine flour, water and starter in a large bowl and stir with a wooden spoon until a uniform mass forms and no dry flour remains, about 1 minute. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature for 20 minutes.

Dough

1 medium russet potato (mashed)—whatever makes 1 ½ cups potato

3 1/2 cups unbleached, all purpose flour

1 cup warm water [100-110 degrees]
1 cup sourdough starter
1 1/4 tsp kosher salt
4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary leaves

Dough
Stir the flour, water and starter into the sponge with a wooden spoon until a uniform mass forms and no dry flour remains, about 1 minute. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise at room temperature 15 minutes.

Sprinkle 2 teaspoons of the salt over the dough; stir into the dough until thoroughly incorporated, about 1 minute. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise at room temperature, 30 minutes. Spray a rubber spatula or bowl scraper with olive oil; fold the partially risen dough over itself by gently lifting and folding the edge of the dough toward the middle. Turn the bowl 90 degrees; fold again. Turn the bowl and fold the dough six more times [for a total of 8 turns]. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise, 30 minutes. Repeat the folding, turning, and rising two more times, for a total of three 30-minute rises. Meanwhile, adjust an oven rack to the upper-middle position, place a baking stone on the rack, and heat the oven to 500 degrees, at least 30 minutes before baking.

Gently transfer the dough to a lightly floured work surface. Lightly dust the top of the dough with flour and divide in half. Shape each piece of dough into a 5-inch round by gently tucking under the edges. Coat two 9-inch round cakes pans with 2 tablespoons olive oil each. Sprinkle each pan with 1/ 2 teaspoon salt. Place a round of dough in one pan, top side down, slide the dough around the pan to coat the bottom and sides, then flip the dough over. Repeat with the second piece of dough. Cover the pans with plastic wrap and let rest for 5 minutes.

Using your fingertips, press the dough out toward the edges of the pan, taking care not to tear it. [If the dough resists stretching, let it relax for 5 to 10 minutes before trying to stretch it again.] Using a dinner fork, poke the entire surface of the dough 25-3o times. If any large bubbles remain on the surface or sides of the dough, pop with the fork to deflate.Drizzle with olive oil. Sprinkle the rosemary or Parmesan evenly over the top of the dough. Let the dough rest in the pan until slightly bubbly, 5-10 minutes.

Place the pans on the baking stone and lower the oven temperature to 450 degrees. Bake until the tops are golden brown, 25-28 minutes, switching the pans halfway through the baking time. Transfer the pans to a wire rack and cool 5 minutes. Remove the loaves from the pan and place on the wire rack. Brush the tops with any oil remaining in the pan. Cool 30 minutes before serving.

This was an incredible accompaniment to chili (a new recipe which I’ll post tomorrow). Short and stout and rich with flavor! 5 stars!

Pain Blanc Au Levain

As if I weren’t getting enough of French words in the series of recipes I have endeavored from The Village Baker, tonight I watched the French foreign film The Intouchables with a certain little club we started at Calvary, Filmosopher’s Fellowship. The plot traces an unlikely friendship between two men on either side of cultural, economic, and health divides. The takeaway message: the best way to allay judgment and debilitating pity is to touch, actually touch, one another. Touch has a way of making us forget separateness. I suspect sharing bread has similar powers.

Pain Blanc Au Levain

White Sourdough Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

Makes 1 round loaf and 2 baguettes

Levain

1 ¼ cups all purpose flour

½ cup warm water

¾ cup sourdough starter

Dough

1 package yeast

2 cups warm water

4 ½ cups all purpose flour

Levain (above)

1 tbsp salt

Glaze: 1 egg white and ½ cup cold water

The fountain technique is important here. Put the flour on the workbench and form a little volcano divot.

Pour the starter and warm water into the divot and mix with your finger.

Slowly mix like this, adding more and more flour until the dough comes together and it can be kneaded. Knead for 5 or 6 minutes and then let the dough rise, covered, in a warm place for 4 or 5 hours.

To make the dough, proof the yeast in ½ cup of water. Make a fountain with this flour too and break up the levain and dissolve it in the divot with water. Pull in the flour to the dough by the same manner as before. When almost all the flour has been added, sprinkle the salt in and knead the dough for 3 or 4 minutes. The dough will be soft and wet. The majority of the gluten should have been developed in the paste stage.

Let dough rise, covered, for one hour. Punch back and allow to rise again for 30 minutes.

Shape the dough into one round and two baguettes. Allow to rise for 2 hours in a cool place.

Bake the bread in a preheated oven at 450 degrees. The baguettes should be in for 15 to 20 minutes. The round will take 20 minutes. Slash the baguettes diagonally, and do a crisscross pattern for the boule.

5 stars. The crumb on this bread was light and airy. The flavor was more complex than the white French bread I made previously. Or perhaps I was just feeling more French because of listening to the language for several hours. Oui Oui, hoh hoh.

Pain Complet Aux Currant

If the soul has a smell, it is the smell of old books, and possibly wheat bread. The Divine Comedy of Dante offers me its soul smell this morning. I have been remiss, I realize, in not sharing much poetry during April—the National Month of Poetry! I turned to the Purgatorio, level: Gluttony, to find some verse on the virtue and vice of eating.

And I heard the Angel voice recite:

Blessed are they whom Grace so lights within

That the love of food in them does not excite

Excessive appetite, but who take pleasure

In keeping every hunger within measure.

So advised by my daemon, I offer this Monday morning a healthier option, 100% whole wheat French bread.

Pain Complet Aux Currant

Whole-Wheat French Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

1 ¼ cups scalded milk

2 packages active dry yeast

¼ cup warm water

3 cups whole wheat flour

1 ½ tsp salt

1 cup currants

Glaze: 1 egg whisked with one tbsp. milk

Pour flour on work surface and make a fountain space in the center. Mix the yeast and warm milk in the center, and gradually expand the mixing circles (with your finger) to bring in the whole wheat flour. Continue mixing until you have a stringy paste. Sprinkle salt, and incorporate the rest of the flour. It will be a moist dough. Knead dough for five minutes. Let dough rise, covered, for one hour. Punch it back and let it rise for another 30 minutes.

Fold dough and roll into a tight log, incorporating the currants like was done with the apricots and almonds in this bread. Seal the edges with a hand. Place loaf on parchment paper and let it rise for one hour. Preheat oven to 425. Glaze the loaf and bake for 35 minutes, until it is a deep brown color.

This was fabulous, like wheat ciabatta bread. 5 stars. I plan to persist in the old books for the remainder of the month (now that I am home in Rochester, and happily sitting among them again). A poem a day keeps.

Pain Compagnon Au Levain

The French word compagnon is from the Latin cum panis, to signify the person with whom we share bread. We are sharing our bread today with Karl-Peter’s parents Ralph and Marilyn, who arrived at four this morning, having driven straight through the mountains to Minnesota from Seattle for spring break. Such a blessing to have reached the stage in life when parents are among the dearest and most beloved of companions.

Pain Compagnon Au Levain

Adapted from the Village Baker

Compagnon starter (Levain)

¾ cup warm water

1 tsp active dry yeast

1 tsp salt

2 cups all-purpose flour

Combine and let rise in a warm place for 8-10 hours. Punch down, shape into a round, and continue to let rise in the refrigerator for 24-36 hours (cold fermentation, to develop flavor!)

Dough

1 tsp active dry yeast

1 ½ cups water

2 cups compagnon starter (see above)

3 cups all purpose flour

1 ½ tsp salt

Egg white glaze (mix egg white with a tablespoon of water)

Proof the yeast and break up the compagnon starter into a large bowl and add water (hot from the tap). Mix until starter has dissolved into yeast, start adding flour, handful by handful, stirring gently and then vigorously with a wooden spoon. Add salt toward the end of the flour additions, and knead on a work surface for 4 or 5 minutes.

Let dough rise covered for one hour. Punch it down and allow to rise for another 30 minutes. Divide dough in half, square the edges and fold into a tight log—I made two batard loaves—found another good video that demonstrates shaping (from a kneading conference, what fun!) To clarify, a batard is something in between a boule (a round) and a baguette. As they say, “Not a boule, not a baguette, a batard” (which means bastard in French).

Glaze with egg white whisked into water, slash a couple of times, preheat the oven to 450 and bake at that temperature for 15 minutes, then turn the heat down to 400 and continue baking for 20 to 25 minutes longer.

Very snazzy loaves. This is some spring. The ground outside remains coated with frost until well into the afternoon. Izzy seems still to be hibernating, adding the treats proffered by her grandparents to her thick winter coat. Marilyn is currently practicing taking Izzy for a walk, as she will be our dogsitter in June for a week. From personal experience I can say, walking Izzy is what I imagine it would be like to “walk” an excited ox.