Tuscan White Bean and Kale Soup

I always feel refreshed upon returning from the international city of literature (Iowa City). My people, my people. I felt particular synergy between the strange yet tender styles of my travel buddy Linda and myself. We took the trip in her car, two ladies in a bug. Happy for new friends, new books, new epiphanies. Happy to be home.

Tuscan White Bean and Kale Soup

From Kim Wiseman, some magazine clipping she gave me

22 ounces fire roasted tomatoes

16 ounces chicken stock

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup white wine

¼ cup diced onion

¼ cup diced carrot

¼ cup diced celery

¼ cup minced garlic

1 ½ cup cannellini beans

2 cups kale, cut into thin strips

2 tablespoons basil

2 tablespoons oregano

2 teaspoons parsley

½ lemon

Salt and pepper to taste

In a stockpot with hot olive oil, add carrots, celery, and onion. Cook for six minutes and add garlic and cook three more minutes.
Deglaze with white win, and once wine has evaporated, add chicken stock and tomatoes
Bring to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer, cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add kale, parsley, basil, and oregano. Add white beans and lemon. Add salt and pepper.
Garnish with fresh Parmesan cheese.

This was a good soup, but the one made in Kim’s kitchen tasted better. I recommend more strongly the bread that accompanied it. If this photograph depicted a rock-paper-scissors game of food–I’d say bread beats soup.

Ricotta Calzones

Traveled across an ocean, admittedly of corn, to arrive in Iowa City last night for the Examined Life Conference to which I brought my usual song and dance, and this time, one more song and dance. I have a travel buddy, the infamous Linda Drozdowicz, medical school classmate, aka, the only person you can call at Mayo Clinic for a ukulele consult. She dazzled our hotel hosts with a moonlight serenade last night after the open session and reading.

Left KP (and Izzy) with his favorite food—these:

Ricotta Calzones

Adapted from Baking Illustrated

For the dough
4 cups bread flour, plus more for dusting work surface
1 envelope instant yeast (about 2 1/4 teaspoons)
1 1/2 teaspoons table salt
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/2 cups plus 1 tablespoon warm water (about 110° F (43°C)

For the filling
15-ounce container whole-milk ricotta cheese
8 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded (2 cups)
1 1/2 ounces finely grated Parmesan cheese (about 3/4 cup)
1 large egg yolk
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano leaves
1/4 teaspoon table salt
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
8 ounces hot or sweet Italian sausage
12 ounces broccoli rabe
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon water
1/8 teaspoon salt
Extra-virgin olive oil for brushing on the shaped calzones
Kosher salt for sprinkling the calzones

Directions
Make the dough
1. In the bowl of a standing mixer, whisk the flour, yeast, and salt to combine. Attach the bowl and dough hook to the mixer; with the mixer running at medium-low speed, add the olive oil, then gradually add the water, continuing to mix until the mixture comes together and a smooth, elastic dough forms, about 10 minutes.

2. Lightly spray a large bowl with nonstick cooking spray; form the dough into a ball, transfer it to the bowl, cover the bowl with plastic wrap lightly sprayed with nonstick cooking spray, and let rise in a warm spot until doubled in size, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Make the filling
1. While the dough rises, combine the cheeses, egg yolk, oregano, salt, and black pepper in a medium bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until needed.

2. Remove the casing from 8 ounces of hot or sweet Italian sausage. Wash and dry 12 ounces broccoli rabe and trim the stalks to about 1 inch below leaves; cut the broccoli rabe crosswise into 1-inch pieces. Cook the sausage in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over high heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon and breaking the sausage into 1/2-inch pieces, until no longer pink, about 4 minutes; stir in 1 tablespoon pressed or minced garlic and 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes and cook until fragrant, about 10 seconds.

3. Stir in the broccoli rabe, 1 tablespoon water, and 1/8 teaspoon salt; cook, stirring constantly, until the broccoli rabe is crisp-tender and the water has evaporated, about 4 minutes. Transfer the mixture to a large paper towel-lined plate and cool to room temperature; once cooled, pat it with paper towels to absorb excess moisture and set aside until needed.

4. Adjust the oven rack to the lowest position, set a pizza stone on the oven rack, and heat the oven to 500 °F (260°C) for at least 30 minutes. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and spray the parchment lightly with nonstick cooking spray. Turn the risen dough out onto an unfloured work surface. Divide the dough in half, and then cut each half into thirds. Gently reshape each piece of dough into a ball. Transfer to the baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap lightly sprayed with nonstick cooking spray. Let the dough rest at least 15 minutes but no more than 30 minutes.

5. Cut eight 9-inch squares of parchment paper. Working with one piece of dough at a time and keeping the other pieces covered, roll the dough into a 9-inch round. Set the dough round onto a parchment square and cover it with another parchment square; roll out another dough ball, set second dough round on top of first, and cover with a parchment square. Repeat to form a stack of 3 dough rounds, covering the top round with a parchment square. Form a second stack of 3 with the remaining dough balls and parchment squares.

Assemble the Calzone
1. Remove the top parchment square from the first stack of dough rounds and place the rounds with parchment beneath on the work surface; if the dough rounds have shrunk, gently and evenly roll them out again to 9-inch rounds. Divide the sausage mixture, evenly into 6 portions on the plate; place -1 portion of the sausage mixture on top of a portion of the cheese filling in the center of the bottom half of each dough round leaving a 1-inch border uncovered.

2. Fold the top half of the dough over the filling-covered bottom half leaving 1/2-inch border uncovered. With your fingertips, lightly press around the silhouette of the filling and out to the edge to lightly seal the dough shut.

3. Beginning at one end of the seam, place your index finger diagonally across the edge and gently pull the bottom layer of the dough over the tip of your index finger; press into the dough to seal. Repeat the process until the calzone is fully sealed. With a very sharp paring knife or razor blade, cut 5 slits, about 1 1/2 inches long, diagonally across the top of the calzone, making sure to cut through only the top layer of dough and not completely through the calzone.

4. With a pastry brush, brush the tops and sides of the calzones with olive oil and lightly sprinkle with kosher salt. Trim the excess parchment paper; slide the calzones on the parchment onto a pizza peel or rimless baking sheet, then slide the calzones with parchment onto the hot pizza stone, spacing them evenly apart. Bake until the calzones are golden brown, about 11 minutes; use a pizza peel or rimless baking sheet to remove the calzones with the parchment to a wire rack. Remove the calzones from the parchment, cool 5 minutes, and serve. While the first batch of calzones bakes, form the second batch and bake them after removing the first batch from the oven.

Fantastic, 5 stars. Definitely better, in my opinion, when served with tomato sauce, both inside and for dipping.

Pain de Campagne Pate Fermentee

Pate Fermentee, or Old Dough Method, is great for people who want to make a bunch of dough and freeze it for later use. Take a cup-full of old dough from the freezer, let it thaw and rise for an hour or two, and then you can use it as a starter. Bread made by this method is supposed to be chewier and have a fuller flavor. The only warning I’ve read is that you should be careful not to allow the old dough to weigh in at more than 10 percent of your overall batch. I previously tried this method with La Couronne de Figeac, and my proportions were off and the couronne had trouble rising.

Pain de Campagne Pate Fermentee

Country-Style French Bread with Old-Dough Addition

Adapted from The Village Baker

1 cup sourdough starter

2 ¼ cups warm water

1 cup 6-hour old dough

4 cups all-purpose flour

1 ½ cups rye or whole wheat flour

1 tablespoon salt

This recipe yields a bread almost identical to yesterdays, but I wanted to see if I could taste a difference between the sponge method and the old-dough addition. They look practically identical. I couldn’t taste a significant difference. This might say more about my bread-making habits than the recipes.

Follow the same directions as yesterday’s Pain de Campagne Sur Poolish—except with the oven at 450, and only bake the round for 40 minutes. I also tried a different slashing pattern

which resulted in an unequally distributed bulge through one of the first slashes.

I assume this means my oven heats irregularly and/or I made one of the slashes too deep and weakened that side of the bread to excess expansion. But perhaps it could be construed as artistic intention—the bread as skull if you look at it from the right angle. Or bread as acorn. 5 stars.

Pain de Campagne Sur Poolish

Campagne is a “traditional country loaf” made in France. Its crust is dark and thick, almost caramelized, and dusted with flour. A certain French philosopher, who I happen to admire not only for his Meditations but for his persistent Zooey Deschanel haircut, as very few men can pull off bangs, once wisely said this: “Wonder [is] the first of all the passions.” He should have stopped there because he goes on to say we should do everything we can to rid ourselves of it, no doubt in favor of some boondoggle like Reason or Knowledge. If wonder was the only passion I had, it would be enough. Each time I mix together the grindings of wheat and water and watch the sludge leaven with a little help from my microbial friends, the result astounds me. The resurrection of the ordinary in a humble country loaf is a wondrous sight.

Pain de Campagne Sur Poolish

Sponge-Method Country-Style French Bread

Adapted from The Village Baker

Sponge (Poolish)

1 cup sourdough starter

1 ½ cups water

1 cup all-purpose flour

½ cup rye flour

½ cup wheat flour

The Dough

1 cup starter

1 ¼ cup water

All of the Poolish from previous step

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 tablespoon salt

Mix the sponge together and cover in a bowl to rest overnight (at least 6 to 8 hours)

The next day, make the dough combining the two flours and mixing flour in vigorously with a wooden spoon for 50 strokes. Add the salt almost last, and turn the dough out onto a floured table to knead for 5 minutes until satiny. Let dough rise in an oiled bowl until doubled.

Shape into a round (boule) and set it to proof in a banneton (shallow basket lined with a floured dish towel). Let rise for 1 to 2 hours. Slash the loaf with a razor 3 or 4 times. 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.

5 stars, absolutely. I will make this again and again. Get a Big Bowl, because this has a lot of rising power and can be as humongous as you desire. Mine hit the roof of the oven, which was a first for me, and thankfully did not catch fire. This will provide lovely accompaniment to your soups for weeks—and quite healthy! The crust is the best part–be sure to also look under your loaf with wonder:

And inside:

Turcoman Sourdough Bread

For marriage counseling, KP and I did some group sessions with couples from Quest Church (Seattle). It was in one of these sessions that I met my first Turk. The way we all came to learn this about him: the group facilitator had asked us to share what ground rules we had thus far established in our relationships with our fiancés. His fiancé said, “I will not make fun of Turkmenistan.” I cannot remember what ground rule I shared for Karl and me, but I do remember how the curly-haired American marrying a Turk had vowed to never make fun of Turkmenistan. Which seems like an important rule in general.

And it seems a good rule to this day. This flatbread, also known as Chorek is a flatbread akin to sourdough in that the leavening agent comes mostly from whatever wild yeasts and lactobacilli are present in the room temperature goat milk kept on the counter for two whole days mixed with flour. The goat milk, obviously, makes a sour taste. What has been left out of this recipe, but that the authors of the original recipe mentioned, was that actual Turcoman sourdough uses mutton fat, which keeps the bread moist and fresh in texture. So if you have recently sacrificed a lamb, say for Easter, squeeze a little of that in here and it will be authentic.

Turcoman Sourdough Bread

Adapted from Flatbreads and Flavors

Chorek from Turkmenistan

Sponge

4 cups goat’s milk

2 cups hard all-purpose flour

1 ½ cups hard whole wheat flour

1/8 tsp dry yeast (or a ¼ cup sourdough starter)

Dough

1 tablespoon salt

1 ½ cups hard whole wheat flour

1 ½ cups white flour

Nearly scald the goat’s milk in a saucepan, and before boiling add to a bread bowl and allow to cool. Add the flour and pinch of yeast, mix in one direction 100 times to develop the gluten. Cover with saran and set aside for 48 to sour.

Sprinkle salt over the sponge and add remaining flour. Knead for 10 minutes on a floured work surface. Let rise for 3-4 hours covered until doubled in volume.

Preheat oven to 450 and put the baking stone in (or quarry tiles, like I used to use back in the day). Divide the dough into quarters and roll each section into a ball. Roll out each ball into a 10 inch-ish oval, ½ inch thick. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

Stamp each bread with a fork or bread stamp.

Transfer to a cornmealed peal and slide onto the baking stone. Bake for 10 minutes until golden on top and crusty on the bottom.

Hmm. I was not a fan of this bread, mostly because I do not like goatmilk. The bread seemed to come our right, but that tang is not my fave. Karl-Peter, with whom I left the bread over the weekend, said of the bread “It was crumbly. Good with hummus.”

Grandma’s Sweet Potato Biscuits

Grandma’s Sweet Potato Biscuits

As remembered by Lila’s granddaughter Holly Alisha Carraway Warren

There is a photograph of Lila rolling dough with flour all over her hands on display in the kitchen where Holly taught me the famous yet unwritten recipe. I want to honor the oral tradition by keeping this post rather vague, photographic, and vignette-based. Qualitative rather than quantitative. There is no formula to these biscuits, so, as you make batch after batch there will be the good and the bad, the sweet and the bland, the crumbly and the smooth—the biscuits will be as varied as your lived days. The key element, in addition to the four key ingredients, is to have Faith in what you are doing. (And maybe listen to that song, like we did.)

The four key ingredients: self-rising flour, sugar, sweet potatoes, and shortening. First, boil the sweet potatoes until they are slimy and easy to peel.

Be sure to pick out each and every pimply tubercle, the whole follicle. Ew. But you wouldn’t want those nasties contaminating the textures of the biscuits. Put some flour, a couple soft sweet potatoes, however much sugar you think you deserve, and a glob of non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening (photo shown for those who would like to estimate proportions) into a bowl.

Squeeze the warm mush and calm your stomach by looking at the ceiling while you squish.

Try not to think about how it looks and feels. Make no melodramatic analogies. You are massaging warm, wet sweet potatoes and lard. Everything is fine.

Cover the dough with flour so that the dough is no longer tacky to the touch.

Pinch off whatever size biscuit you think you deserve, and roll between your hands into balls, placing on a baking sheet.

Bake (and here is the only given concrete detail) at 350 for 30 minutes. Enjoy with butter! If you are Jude, you will call them Cookies. Lila, Holly tells me, kept a ledger of her biscuit-making, and would tally over two thousand biscuits every year. Her biscuits traveled the country, and perhaps now, the world! Surely they will last generations to come, as great-grandson Jude, at two, is already fond of and familiar with the routine. (Select photography courtesy of Tom Warren, who remembers taking Grandma’s biscuits with him to the Coast Guard Academy.)

Whole-Wheat Cookie Cake

Happy Birthday Jude! My adorable godson turns two, and I am thrilled to be here in North Carolina to watch him live out his two-year-old quirks—like eating orange quarters and then lining the defruited rinds end to end like train cars or hiding puzzle pieces under the living room rug. He is a human echo with a mind like a sponge for words, he is attentive and considerate, a joy to godparent. It almost makes my heart break when he says the word, like a prayer of thanksgiving, Cookie.

Whole Wheat Cookie Cake

Adapted from 100 Days of Real Food

INGREDIENTS

1 ¼ cups whole-wheat flour
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 stick cold butter
¼ cup white sugar
¼ cup brown sugar
1 egg
½ cup milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup chocolate chips or a combination of chocolate chips
Homemade whipped cream and berries (optional) for decorating

INSTRUCTIONS

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
In a small bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt.
In a large bowl fitted with an electric whisk cream the butter and sugar together. Add the egg, milk, and vanilla and mix until thoroughly combined. Lastly, continue beating on low speed while carefully pouring in the flour mixture. Scrape the sides of the bowl as needed.
Using a spatula or large spoon stir in the chocolate chips by hand.
Carefully spread out the cookie dough onto the round baking pan. Take a few minutes to ensure one nice, even layer.
Bake for 8 – 10 minutes or a light golden brown on top.
Let cookie cake cool almost completely before gently sliding/pushing it onto a large round platter. Or if you’d rather be safe than sorry just leave it on the round pizza pan.
Just before serving cover the outside edge with a pretty strip of homemade whipped cream.

5 stars, the cake is especially tasty in the center, where it is still a little mooshy. Jude’s mother Holly made four of these cookie cakes, such dedication and it fed more than thirty party-goers. Perfect birthday cake.

Green Lentil Soup

My presentation on the neurology of metaphor this morning went well, and then I hurried off to exchange my black business suit for a chartreuse skirt and sandals because it is 75 degrees and sunny this afternoon in Savannah. With my last few hours, I attended a show with the Savannah Music Festival; I saw Lake Street Dive perform at the Ships of the Sea North Garden. Ooh, they will not be a 15 dollar show for long, I predict. Way too talented.

The walk along the Savannah River this afternoon was like a stroll through an impromptu bridal expo. I waded through white dresses and up-do’s to the Moon River Brewery. Karl, the English Pale Ale (aka, the Belly-Washer), it will surprise you to learn, was my favorite. It would pair nicely with the following soup, which pairs nicely with any of the French pains I made last week. Back to healthy eating for me! (This morning I ordered room service and asked for a whole-wheat bagel. The man on the other end had to ask someone what that was.)

Green Lentil Soup

Adapted from and inspired by My Favourite Pastime

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium onion, finely chopped

3 clove garlics, minced

¼ cup finely chopped celery

¼ cup finely chopped carrots

1 small red bell pepper finely chopped

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ketchup

1 teaspoon lemon zest

1 cup green lentils

1 tablespoon chili powder

4¾ cups chicken stock

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Sauté the onions and garlic until browning.
Add the celery, carrots and capsicum.
Stir in coriander, cumin, ketchup, lemon rind stir for 30 seconds. Add lentils, stir to thoroughly combine.
Add stock, season with salt and pepper and bring to the boil. Simmer for 20-30 minutes or until the vegetables are tender.

Yes, Yes, Again, Again. I will make this soup often, 5 stars. I have heard that a nice variation is to substitute half the chicken stock with coconut milk for a thicker, creamier soup. Others puree the end product to make it even creamier. Because I am a negligent kitchen guard, I may have let the soup simmer for well beyond 30 minutes…but no matter, it tasted divine!

Tom, Holly, and Jude in North Carolina, here I come!

Getting Fat in Savannah

I am not finding much whole-wheat here in Savannah, Georgia. This seems to be an anti-bread city, save for the dilute, to-go cup varietal. My stomach and its tubes (and likely too my heart and its tubes) are slickening with the southern cuisine available to me.

Last night I ate this tasty slab at The Boar’s Head on the Riverfront. Notice, no whole-wheat, no vegetables.

Then, today, on the recommendation of my professor, I lunched at The Olde Pink House. I was told I had to order she crab soup, but I thought I’d get a salad for good measure. Yes, those are fried green tomatoes and whole strips of bacon suffocating my salad leaves.

The atmosphere of the Olde Pink House, built in 1771, was divine on a rainy, cold afternoon. I sat by the fire and gazed out on Reynold’s square through a screen of magnolias.

Tonight, after the Women’s Reception at CEA, I plan to haunt Abe’s on Lincoln.

Sincerely,

Fat and Happy in Savannah

Sweet Persian Bread

Hopped off the plane last night in Savannah, Georgia and went straight to the Pirate’s House to get me some low country cooking—Andouille Jambalaya. It shivered my timbers. Arrrgh, I have missed southern cuisine. The College English Association Conference is gearing up today, I’m polishing off my presentation for Saturday.

The only literary tie-in I’ve got for this Persian bread is my recollection of a Rumi poem likening erotic pleasures to breadbaking and, thereby, how we are to be with God. Much room for discussion here.

Sweet Persian Bread (nane sheer)

Adapted from Flatbreads and Flavors

Makes approximately 2 dozen 3- to 4-inch square thin flatbreads.

2 cups hard unbleached white flour, or more as necessary

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 tsp baking powder

3/4 cup milk, or more as necessary

1 tsp vanilla extract

You will need a medium-sized mixing bowl, two small (10- by 14-inch) baking sheets that can fit side by side in your oven, a rolling pin, and a sharp knife or pizza cutter.
Preheat the oven to 300°F.
In a medium-sized bowl, combine the flour, salt, sugar, and baking powder. Whisk or stir together. Make a well in the center and pour in the milk and vanilla extract. Stir the flour into the milk until a soft, kneadable dough begins to form. If the dough is too sticky, add a little more flour; if too dry, add a little more milk. Turn out onto a lightly floured bread board and knead for 2 to 3 minutes.
Dust two 10- by 14-inch baking sheets with flour. Divide the dough in half and roll out each piece to the size of the baking sheets (the dough should be less than 1/4 inch thick).
Place in the center of your oven, and immediately turn the heat down to 250°F. Bake for 50 minutes. Remove from the oven. Working with one sheet at a time, turn out onto a large cutting board, and cut into 3- to 4-inch squares while the bread is still warm; it will harden quickly as it cools.

I would give these 3 stars. Not very exciting, they are like sub-par sugar cookies. KP says they taste better with a little jam or butter as a breakfast biscuit.