Uighur Naan with Cumin and Onion

Pardon the interruption to our regularly scheduled programme with Baking Illustrated—I was recently gifted a “breads of the world” cookbook, Flatbreads and Flavors by an esteemed Calvary member, Greg. The authors describe themselves as “people caught in the grip of wanderlust” (and probably flour dust, I surmise). I’ll be making culinary excursions at the beginning of the week to the Eastern hemisphere so I can bring international loaves to Beer Church for Greg to try.

Today, we go to Kashgar in the Xinjiang Province of China.

But first, I had to go to Menard’s (the most unfortunate name for a home improvement store, there is no good way to pronounce it) to buy unglazed quarry tiles to line my oven with, which, the book says, approximates the conditions of a tandoor oven.

Then, I had to make moral choices regarding yeast selection. Having bonded with my starter, a 50+ year old batch from Denali National Park I nicknamed Flo, to use a dry yeast quick rise packet with her around feels like a betrayal. If I were to cheat on Flo, I’d have to blindfold her or put on loud music while she chilled in the fridge. It just seemed wrong, and there is a way around it. I researched how to convert sourdough starter “units” to dry yeast “units” and it seems there are many, many schools of thought on how do use starter in yeast packet-written recipes.

I picked what seemed like the easiest method. Since I keep my starter at 100% hydration (equal parts flour and water at each feeding), you add all of the water asked for in the recipe to an equal amount of flour and mix in 1-2 tablespoons of starter. Allow this “sponge” to hang out at RT overnight. Then, resume the rest of the recipe the next day, remembering that you already added your water and a matching volume of flour. Several other methods I researched involved measuring substances in grams—I don’t have a scale, and that seemed like a mess and a pain. The 100% hydration sponge pre-ferment worked well, so I’ll stick with this method until I get further educated.I welcome your counsel if you’ve got tips out there!

INGREDIENTS

2 teaspoons dry yeast (or my chic sourdough starter switcheroo technique)
2 1/2 cups lukewarm water
5 to 6 cups unbleached white bread flour
1 tablespoon sea or kosher salt
3 tablespoons finely chopped scallions
1 teaspoon cumin seeds

PREPARATION

Do whatever you need to do to get yeast activated or pre-ferment with your starter overnight. Then stir in 3 cups flour (or what’s remaining after pre-ferment) a cup at a time. Stir the dough 100 times in the same direction, about 1 minute, to develop the gluten. Add 2 teaspoons salt, then continue adding flour until the dough is too stiff to stir. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes, adding more flour if necessary to prevent sticking.
Clean and lightly oil the bread bowl. Add the dough, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise until doubled in volume, about 1 1/2 hours.
Position a rack in the lower third of your oven and arrange quarry tiles, if you have them, on the rack, leaving a 1-inch gap between the tiles and the oven walls. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees.
Punch the dough down and turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide into 6 pieces. Using lightly floured hands, flatten each piece into a 4to 5-inch round. Cover the rounds with a dry cloth. Keeping the remaining pieces covered as you work, roll each dough round out on a lightly floured surface into a 10-inch round. The dough may spring back as you roll; it’s best to work on 2 or 3 dough rounds at a time, alternating between them, to give the gluten time to stretch before you resume rolling. Then cover the large rounds with plastic wrap and let rise for 10 minutes.
Working with 2 breads at a time, using a bread stamp or a fork, stamp the center portion of each bread; work from the center out until the dough is thoroughly pricked and flattened, leaving a 1 1/2- to 2-inch rim all around. Sprinkle a scant teaspoon of scallions, a generous pinch of cumin seed and a generous pinch of salt over the center of each bread, then dip your fingers in water and sprinkle the centers of the breads.
Slide each round onto a baker’s peel or flour-dusted baking sheet and slide off onto the quarry tiles or preheated baking sheet. Bake until the tops of the breads begin to brown, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer to a rack to cool for 5 minutes, then wrap in a cloth to keep soft and warm. Repeat with the remaining dough, scallions, cumin and salt. Serve warm.

YIELD Six large flatbreads

Ooh, this was so tasty, 5 stars!! The shaping was tricky and I wish I had a baker’s peel and a bread stamp with a funky design (birthday countdown T-4 days) because the fork method didn’t work so great on my first two flatbreads. They ballooned up and looked like pocket bread (still tasted great). You have to REALLY stab the center with the fork to keep it from rising. Cumin seeds roasting on quarry tiles make the kitchen smell wonderful. But the best part was having my oven at 500 degrees on a day where the temperature ranged from 0 to -16. Izzy was digging the heat too.

Corn and Apricot Muffins with Orange Essence

Corn, apricots, and oranges sounded like the worst possible combination. So did orange juice, chai tea, and shallots. But Baking Illustrated and Hyvee have become my mainstays for trusted recipes, so I went big for dinner and made Orange and Sage-Glazed Pork over Whole-Grain Pasta with a side of Corn and Apricot Muffins with Orange Essence. Izzy had the saddest face on while we ate the pork loin chops. Since my pictures of her are usually from above, gravity eclipses her jowls from the shot and you can’t fully appreciate her bulldog pout. Here is Izzy pouting head on. Perfect look for a Monday:

Then, because impossible combinations had become the theme of the day, I bought a sheer black and orange floral Lane Bryant (never say never!) blouse at Savers ($1.99!) to style as a dress layered under a black sweater. Here I am proud of unlikely successes:

Corn and Apricot Muffins with Orange Essence

Baking Illustrated

Ingredients

2/3 cup granulated sugar

2 teaspoons orange zest, grated

1 1/2 cups dried apricots (10 ounces)

2/3 cup orange juice

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (10 ounces)

1 cup fine-ground, whole-grain yellow cornmeal (4 1/2 ounces)

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon table salt

2 large eggs

1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick), melted

3/4 cup sour cream

1/2 cup milk

In food processor, process 2/3 cup granulated sugar and 11/2 teaspoons grated orange zest until pale orange, about 10 seconds. Transfer to small bowl and set aside.

In food processor, pulse dried apricots for ten 2-second pulses, until chopped fine (I don’t have a food processor—but my birthday is next week! Hint, hint..) Transfer to medium microwave-safe bowl; add orange juice to apricots, cover bowl tightly with plastic wrap, and microwave on high until simmering, about 1 minute. Let apricots stand, covered, until softened and plump, about 5 minutes. Strain apricots; discard juice.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 400 degrees. Spray standard muffin tin with nonstick cooking spray.
Whisk flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in medium bowl to combine; set aside. Whisk eggs in second medium bowl until well combined and light-colored, about 20 seconds. Add granulated and dark brown sugar to eggs; whisk vigorously until thick and homogenous, about 30 seconds; add melted butter in 3 additions, whisking to combine after each addition. Add half the sour cream and half the milk and whisk to combine; whisk in remaining sour cream and milk until combined. Stir remaining orange zest and strained apricots into wet ingredients.
Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients; mix gently with rubber spatula until batter is just combined and evenly moistened. Do not over-mix. Using an ice cream scoop or large spoon, divide batter evenly among muffin cups, dropping it to form mound. Do not level or flatten surface of mounds.

Bake until muffins are light golden brown and skewer inserted into center of muffins comes out clean, about 18 minutes, rotating muffin tin from front to back halfway through baking time. Cool muffins in tin 5 minutes and transfer to wire rack.KP and I agree that the orange-sage-chai pork tenderloin chops were the best dinner we have had since the eggplant parmigiana. The reduction of orange juice and chai with shallots and garlic is incredible, and tastes great over pasta (wish we had somewhere in town we could buy quinoa spaghetti! Missing the NW).

The apricot-corn muffins taste wonderful, especially with a cup of chai tea! 4 stars!

Happy MLK Day.

Cranberry Muffins with Lemon-Ginger Glaze

When the sun shines to brighten a wintery weekend morning, the only possible improvement to such a sacred setting is a hot batch of fancy-pants muffins and a cup of hot French-pressed Flat Creek Roasters coffee. Ooh, me. Happy Sunday

Cranberry Muffins with Lemon-Ginger Glaze

Baking Illustrated

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (10 ounces)
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1 large egg
1 cup granulated sugar (7 ounces)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 1/4 cups sour cream (10 ounces)
1 1/2 cups cranberries
Directions:
1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray standard muffin tin with nonstick vegetable cooking spray.
2. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl until combined. Whisk egg in second medium bowl until well-combined and light-colored, about 20 seconds. Add sugar and whisk vigorously until thick and homogenous, about 30 seconds; add melted butter in 2 or 3 steps, whisking to combine after each addition. Add sour cream in 2 steps, whisking just to combine.
3. Add cranberries to dry ingredients and gently toss to combine. Add sour cream mixture and fold with rubber spatula until batter comes together and berries are evenly distributed, 25 to 30 seconds (small spots of flour may remain and batter will be thick). Do not overmix.
4. Drop batter into greased muffin tin. Bake until light golden brown and toothpick or skewer inserted into center of muffin comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes, rotating pan from front to back halfway through baking time. Invert muffins onto wire rack, stand muffins upright, and cool 5 minutes

To make the Fancy-Pants Lemon-Ginger Glaze—

Mix ½ cup sugar with 1 tbsp ground ginger.
Boil down ¼ cup lemon juice with ¼ cup sugar until it is about 4 tablespoons volume and syrupy.
When the muffins have cooled for five minutes, paint the tops with the lemon syrup and then dip upside down in the ginger sugar. Note: I am using the Swedish wooden brush my mother-in-law Marilyn gave me for Christmas! Thank you!

One lesson learned: I have a whole new appreciation for the invention of cupcake foils. What a pain to spray the cupcake sheet from thirty different angles and to dig the muffins carefully out of each of twelve divots.

The original recipe asks for blueberries, but I only had cranberries in the pantry. Also, I only had one cup of sour cream and so I used plain yogurt for the quarter cup remainder. Don’t think those tweaks messed up the taste or made the muffins weird. 4 stars (a little sweet for my taste). I operated my own sort of clandestine mission and snuck the muffins into a matinee of Zero Dark Thirty. n=5 gave 100% approval ratings, and one recipient specifically thanks you, Dad, for gifting me Baking Illustrated and catalyzing my baking mania.

Today’s mission? Scour Savers 50% sale for baking implements, a leopard-print jacket, and of course, new shoes.

American-Style Soda Bread with Raisins and Caraway Seeds

Today, in 1955, something happened that would alter the course of human history (or at least Hammer history) for the nerdier.

Scrabble was invented!

This is the last soda bread in the book before I start the muffin series (yes!) I had never put caraway in anything before, and to a non-foodie like me it smells like a grandpa’s cologne, but tastes different, like a fresh hamburger onion.

American-Style Soda Bread with Raisins and Caraway Seeds

Baking Illustrated

3 cups all-purpose flour, plus additional for work surface
1 cup cake flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoons caraway seeds
1 cup raisins (I didn’t have any and of the opinion that raisins ruin things)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus 1 tablespoon melted for crust)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 1/4 cups buttermilk

Directions:

Heat oven to 400 degrees with a rack in the upper-middle position.
Stir together the flours, sugar, baking soda, cream of tartar, salt and caraway seeds. Add the butter and toss with a fork to coat with the flour mixture. Mix on medium-low speed until the texture resembles coarse cornmeal, with the butter pieces no larger than small peas. Add raisins and stir until combined.
In a 2 cup measuring cup, lightly beat egg and buttermilk together.
Add this mixture to the flour mixture and hand stir with a fork until the dough just begins to come together. Turn out onto a floured work surface and knead until the dough just becomes cohesive and bumpy, about 12-14 turns. Do not knead too much, the dread will be tough.
Pat dough into a 6-inch, 2-inch high round and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Using small sharp knife dipped into flour, cut 3/4-inch-deep X in top center of dough. Bake for 40 to 25 minutes, until golden brown and the internal temperature reaches 170 degrees. Remove from the oven and brush with butter. Cool on wire rack to room temperature, about 30 to 45 minutes.

This and the oatmeal soda bread are my two favorites from the soda bread series. This I would give 3.5 stars, mostly because it is difficult to pair with food and doesn’t taste good enough on its own to want to sit down and eat a whole loaf, not that I do that with any of my loaves! I maintain, contrary to the Wheat Belly story on the Colbert report, that wheat is not addictive. I don’t think I need to cut down or anything, though I could if I wanted to; I just need a piece of toast or a muffin to get out of bed in the morning.

Quinoa and Black Beans

Tonight is a beer brewing night (a red ale and cappuccino stout!), which I figured counted enough toward yeast work that I could skip bread making for today. Instead, I’ll share a lovely gluten-free recipe I have grown quite fond of and made for a friend of mine yesterday:

Quinoa and Black Beans

Recipe adapted from Jade Sexton (colleague of mine at Olmsted County Journal)

1 tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
¾ cup uncooked quinoa, rinsed
1 ½ cups chicken broth
1 tbsp chili powder

1 tsp cumin

Salt and pepper to taste
1 cup frozen corn kernels
1 15 oz can black beans, drained and rinsed
½ cup fresh cilantro (optional)

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the onion and garlic, and sauté until lightly browned. Mix quinoa into the saucepan and cover with broth. Season with chili powder, cumin, salt, and pepper. Bring the mixture to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 20 minutes. Stir frozen corn into the saucepan, and continue to simmer about 5 minutes until heated through. Mix in the black beans and cilantro.

Tasty tasty. Everyone I make this for just raves about it, and, I’ve learned, quinoa is a special dish to prepare in 2013, as declared by the UN. My favorite college student, and Izzy’s favorite babysitter, digs it—shout out to Kristen in Walla Walla—and I hope you do too!

Oatmeal Soda Bread

You could throw a loaf of Irish soda bread through a sheet-rocked wall. Easily. I’m thinking about using the last two loaves for discus training. Heavy and dense, this bread seems best with soup or saucy dishes. I was going to quit halfway through the soda bread marathon, but then I saw that the next was oatmeal, and I flashed back to my horse-feed diet days (the last 26 years), when I used to eat fistfuls of rolled oats straight out of the canister, Cheerios a box at a time. These memories convinced me to press on with the bench-pressable bread series. Heck, if I do arm and leg reps with the loaves I can quickly burn the calories acquired in consuming them.

Oatmeal soda bread

Baking Illustrated

Makes 1 loaf

2 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

1 3/4 cups buttermilk (or I use whole milk + a tbsp. vinegar)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup cake flour

1/2 cup whole-wheat flour

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

Extra all-purpose flour (for shaping)

1 tablespoon melted butter (for brushing)

2. Set the oven at 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.1. In a medium bowl, combine 2 cups of the oats with the buttermilk. Set aside for 1 hour.

3. Spread the walnuts on a rimmed baking sheet. Toast them in the oven for 5 to 10 minutes or until fragrant. Cool and chop coarsely.

4. In a bowl, whisk the remaining 1/2 cup oats, all-purpose flour, cake flour, whole-wheat flour, brown sugar, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Work in the soft butter with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

5. Add the buttermilk mixture and walnuts to the flour mixture. Stir with a fork just until the dough comes together.

6. Turn the mixture out onto a lightly floured board. Knead lightly until the dough becomes cohesive and bumpy, not smooth or the dough will be tough.

7. Pat the dough into a 6-inch round that is 2 inches high. Transfer the bread to the baking sheet. With a paring knife, mark a 3/4-inch-deep cross on top of the dough. Set the baking sheet in the oven and bake the bread for 45 to 55 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean.

8. Remove the loaf from the oven and brush the surface with melted butter. Cool to room temperature.

Ooh 4 stars—this is the best soda bread yet! The key, I believe, is the slight oversight I made while supervising the soaking oats. The instructions say to soak them in the milk for one hour—I got distracted and it was more like four hours of soaking. Moist oats, nay, soggy oats make all the difference. The result tastes like a giant oatmeal cookie. Too bad I don’t have Bruce to report on the chef—Watching this clip now in the midst of a long and isolated writing week, I identify somewhat with Vol—“I work in back. I see no smiles.” Man from health department has no business in my kitchen, there are no boogers, rat pellets or giant chocolate sprinkles in my goodies.

Irish Brown Soda Bread

I am old enough to understand that hope takes naps. Hope can grow quiet, dormant in darkness, beneath immovable blankets. You cannot wake it up; you just have to wait for the season of night to pass.

This is something I found today in a journal I kept in New Orleans. The Irish Pub I mentioned yesterday, Finn McCool’s, was a place KP and I loved to visit while hope was taking its naps. The stories of names also can lay dormant, just outside of consciousness, and when these stories are made known, how eerie it is to know all this time you were dithering ignorant in the presence of a great and quiet truth.

It wasn’t until after almost two years of haunting our favorite pub that I bothered to look up the Irish legend of Finn McCool.

Finn McCool is a brave warrior and benevolent giant from Celtic mythology. I imagine him similar to Hagrid from Harry Potter. There’s all kinds of the mythological shenanigan’s you would expect in the lore if you want to go there—love interests get turned into deer by druids, Finn has a magical thumb which allows him to see what is going on anywhere in the world (akin to the powers of Fozzie Bear?), his large feet carved the channels between Kitterland and the Isle of Man, etc.

But what I am really drawn to is Finn McCool’s death—because it wasn’t a death at all. Finn McCool merely went to sleep somewhere in a cave underneath Ireland, and as the story goes, when he wakes up someday, peace and prosperity will return to Ireland. Knowing this helps illumine James Joyce’s title—Finnegan’s Wake (Finn is Again Awake!).

Since learning this story it is hard to not feel expectant toward bulges of earth, or for me, daily, bulges of flour. Return peace and prosperity, Awake! Expectant also toward caves similar to where one other great man died, but did not stay dead! and who we hope is not merely sleeping elsewhere, though sometimes, most often when I read the news, I assume there must be naptime in paradise.

Irish Brown Soda Bread
Makes One 7 inch Round Loaf

Baking Illustrated

1 ¾ cups All-Purpose flour

1 ¼ cups whole-wheat flour

½ cup pastry flour or cake flour

½ cup wheat germ, toasted
3 tbsp. brown sugar
1 ½ tsp. cream of tartar
1 ½ tsp. Baking Soda
1 ½ tsp. Salt
2 tbsp. Melted Butter
1 ½ cups whole milk

1 ½ tbsp. white or apple vinegar

Combine all-purpose flour, wheat germ (I didn’t have any of this and was pretty confident that I wouldn’t find any in grocery stores in Rochester, MN so I ground up ½ cup of flax seed to mix in), sugar, baking powder, soda, and salt. Stir in butter with a fork until in very small particles. Add the buttermilk. Stir gently with a fork but thoroughly until all flour is moistened.

Scrape dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead five times. Gather into a ball and place on a lightly greased cake round. Using a sharp knife, make a large cross (score) on the top of the loaf to allow for expansion. Bake at 400ºF for 40 minutes, until loaf is browned and sounds hollow when tapped, or when it has reached an internal temperature of 180 degrees.

Remove from oven and place on a rack. Brush with melted butter. Allow to cool before slicing.

3.5 stars—To test whether the corny corn bread taste was from the buttermilk, with this loaf I used whole milk and a little bit of vinegar. It didn’t change the corn taste, so perhaps I am confusing corn taste for soda taste. There is a unique tang to this type of bread, and I think for me at least that limits my use of it to being a soup-dipper sort of bread.

Furthermore, my Mom (a Julia Childs of her own right) provided some critical advice for the sticky-finger issue while trying to not knead the bread hardly at all. She said to use olive oil as hand lotion immediately prior to turning out the loaf on the flour surface, and, sure enough, Julia Ellis was right! I don’t think I have achieve the “light fingered touch” complimentary to Irish bakers who make this bread all the time, but this loaf rose better than the last even with the wheat flour and flaxseed.

I told Izzy the Finn McCool legend and she was convinced that Finn is sleeping inside the hillish loaf of soda bread and she would like to investigate herself.

Classic Irish Soda Bread

How we would love to go to Ireland! Or at least back to Finn McCool’s Irish Pub in New Orleans where there is pub quiz every night and HammerTime, the legendary line up of Steve, Kim, Jeremy, Kristen, and Rachel who used to face off against the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Finn McClueless, the Fighting Pacifists, and Erin Go’Braughless. Steve and Pauline, we miss you!

I’m staring at four Irish Soda bread recipes in a row; my week looks verdigris indeed.

Classic Irish Soda Bread
Makes One 7 inch Round Loaf

Baking Illustrated

3 cups All-Purpose Flour

1 cup pastry flour or cake flour
2 tbsp. Sugar
1 ½ tsp. cream of tartar
1 ½ tsp. Baking Soda
1 ½ tsp. Salt
2 tbsp. Melted Butter
1 ½ cups Buttermilk

Combine all-purpose flour, sugar, baking powder, soda, and salt. Stir in butter with a fork until in very small particles. Add the buttermilk. Stir gently with a fork but thoroughly until all flour is moistened.

Remove from oven and place on a rack. Brush with melted butter. Allow to cool before slicing.

I’ll give it 3.5 stars. Cream of tar-tar—I can’t decide whether the ingredient sounds chi-chi poo-poo or like a planet in Star Trek. First time I’ve ever used it! Both KP and I were looking for tartar sauce at the grocery store, and an older woman kindly guided us to the baking aisle. Just like baking soda. The dough tasted REALLY good (I would give the dough five stars). The hardest part was not kneading the bread but still shaping it into a round loaf. I should have used more flour, because when I turned it out onto the board, it was still sticky and lumpy. It gummed between my fingers, all up in my wedding ring, and it was hard to smooth it without kneading. I’ll try to be even lighter of touch next time. Also, I am surprised how much soda bread tastes like corn bread. I think it’s the buttermilk, which also yellows the loaf a bit, but the bread tastes great with marinara or for wiping sauce off the plates of eggplant parmigiana… Also, MAJOR thanks to Greg Wiseman who last night at Beer Church gave me a copy of Flatbreads and Flavors, a book of bread recipes from around the world! I may sneak in a naan soon!

Eggplant Parmigiana

And let me offer lesson number one about America: All great change in America begins at the dinner table. -Ronald Reagan

Several months ago, I bought an eggplant on its reputation for being a “superfood.” If Reagan is right that great change begins at the dinner table, then an eggplant is one fine bulb of healthy revolution. Its healthiness, however, intimidated me and as I tend to do with many things that intimidate me, I ignored it. After two weeks the eggplant seemed to have given up being smug and began to decompose into brown mush in a quiet corner of the crisper. I had won the first face off. But I felt guilty for having wasted it on point of pride. I now look upon that brave eggplant as a martyr. It sacrificed itself so that I could feel “more comfortable” around other eggplants. Last week, I repeated the exercise and bought another eggplant ($1!). Izzy and I went through some exposure therapy exercises. Then, last night, while we had some friends over to watch the Golden Globes, I pulled out The Joy of Cooking gifted us by Tom and Holly Warren, and I found an eggplant recipe that Holly had boxed with a red pen.

Eggplant Parmigiana

From the Joy of Cooking

There was a long introductory section on how to rinse and salt the eggplant slices so they don’t soak up as much oil—a process unpleasantly called “degorging.” I decided for the sake of the eggplant and it’s dignity NOT to degorge it. I also left the dark skin on.

Cut eggplant into ½ inch slices.

Dip in wheat flour

Beat 3 eggs and 1 tablespoon olive oil together, then dip the eggplants in the egg braise.

Finally, dip in bread crumbs.

Allow crusted eggplants to breathe on a wire rack for 30 minutes, then fry (about 3 minutes a side) in olive oil in a skillet at medium-high heat.

Coat a baking sheet with 3 cups tomato sauce. Arrange the fried eggplant slices in a single layer, overlapping if necessary, on the baking sheet. Top with 2 more cups tomato sauce and:
2 teaspoons dried oregano
¼ teaspoon black pepper
Combine and sprinkle over the eggplant:
1 ½ cups shredded mozzarella
2/3 cup grated parmesan
Sprinkle over the top:
2 teaspoons chopped parsley
Bake at 425 degrees until the cheese is melted and bubbly, about 15 minutes. Serve at once.

Oh my gosh—5 stars! Everyone made faces I would expect when I mentioned I had an eggplant dish in the oven. Everyone said politely they would “try it.” The plates were licked clean! It tasted like pizza—the fried eggplant was crunchy. I did manage to burn about half of the eggplant in the frying attempt because I have little experience and was unduly distracted. Tina Fey and Amy Pohler’s interludes on the GG were the main distraction.

Fun Fact: there is a nicotine-related chemical in the seeds of the eggplant, and if one were to eat 20 pounds of eggplant at once, it would be the equivalent of having one cigarette!

Also, eggplant is a fruit, not a vegetable.

My lovely neighbor Janelle told me she thinks I need to “cool it” with the one loaf of bread a day. There seems to be some wisdom here–hence, I’m taking a day off of the grain train.

Southern-Style Cornbread

There is something inherently sacramental about bread. It is a metaphor for the Lord’s human body. It is a metaphor for God’s grace. It is a metaphor for money (which is its own sort of sacrament in American culture). It is the perfect Sunday activity. This Sunday morning Karl-Peter and I were craving a taste of old homes—New Orleans–so I went for the Southern Cornbread recipe.

4 tablespoons bacon grease (which happily means you have to make bacon in your cast-iron skillet before you start making the cornbread)

1 cup yellow cornmeal

2 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/3 cup boiling water
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 large egg

Directions

Preheat oven to 450. Put your cast-iron skillet in the oven to heat up with the bacon grease in it.
Mix 2/3 cup of cornmeal with sugar, salt, baking powder, baking soda, set aside.
Mix 1/3 cup of cornmeal with boiling water and stir to make stiff mush. Whisk in buttermilk, until smooth, then whisk in egg.
Combine dry and wet mixtures. Pull out the pan and add the bacon grease. Add batter to the hot skillet and return to the oven.
Bake until golden brown, 20 min. flip onto wire rack, turn right side up and cool 5 min before slicing.

KP wanted his half of the bread to have bacon sprinkled on top. It was much crispier than the northern cornbread recipe. I am not a fan of corn meal products, generally, but these crispy squares taste more of bacon than they do of corn. Karl gives it 3.5 stars, and I concur.

We are obviously doing a not-so-subtle Where’s Waldo with Izzy in a lot of these photographs. She is a huge fan of this project and her dropsy muzzle dusts the tops of my bare toes when I’m standing at the counter. As she drools, it’s like my toes go through the foam-pad and sudsy carwash everyday—an unexpected joy of bread baking.