On Writing

Brought to you from the late, great John Lennon:

Com Panis

Generally speaking, yeast and I have a pretty good thing going (and I'm not talking about beer here).  But sometimes yeast likes to keep our relationship spicy by doing its own thing.  Granted, it's only acting under the influence of the weather--humidity levels and, more importantly, HEAT or the lack thereof--but there are times when I do feel slightly betrayed by my old friend, not to mention, I hate waiting around for it when it just will not rise.

But despite all that, I keep on baking with it.  And after two years and much experimentation, I am convinced I have found the formula/method that produces the most flavorful loaf of whole wheat bread.  Even so, this bread is not perfect; my one complaint is that the crumb is not dense enough, which means you'll have to cut thicker slices (oh darn) or have holey bread for your sandwich. A little more experimentation may be needed...  Though bread baking is an exact science (it's known as chemistry, but my sister likes to call it witchcraft), for me, it's usually a lot of trial and error, and maybe a bit of luck.

What follows is a slightly altered bread machine manual recipe for 100% whole wheat bread.  This can still be made using a bread machine, but if you have an entire day to devote to baby-sitting a bowl of bread dough, the end result is very much worth it.  I've discovered that what really makes this bread is the sponge starter, but if you don't want to do that, just double the amount of yeast to 1 1/2 tsp, add that to the water and let it foam.  Then add the other wet ingredients, followed by the mixed dry ingredients.  [If you use the 1/3 C oats, let this wet mix sit for 30 minutes.  Or use 1/3 C flour instead of oats and don't worry about letting it soak.]



100% Whole Wheat Bread, Irish Rose-style

Please don't be intimidated by this recipe.  Once you've made it a few times you'll get a feel for the process, and baking bread will be no big deal.  And when you've got this one down, this recipe makes another really superb loaf.

3 C whole wheat flour (divided)
1/3 C old-fashioned rolled oats
1 1/4 tsp salt
1/3 C flax seed meal (optional)
3/4 tsp yeast (unless not using sponge starter; see above)
1 C warm water
2 T warm milk
2 T oil (I use olive)
1 T honey
1 T molasses
1 egg, lightly beaten

To make the sponge starter, put the water and milk in a bowl.  I microwave the milk but don't get it too hot.  Together, the liquid should be the temperature of a cozy bath.  I will even go so far as to run the bowl under the warm/hot water first so its cold metal doesn't heat up the liquid once I pour it in.  Then add the 3/4 tsp yeast.  Once it's gotten foamy (this is practically instantaneous), add the 1/3 C of oats and 1 C of flour and whisk until all is combined and bubbles are forming.  Mix the other 2 C flour and flax seed meal together and spread it over the wet yeast mix to cover like a blanket.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and a towel and put it in a warm, draft-free place (I usually put it in a turned-off oven with the light on).  The starter will be ready after an hour and should be used within four hours, or it can be refrigerated for up to 24 hours.  I usually let the yeast grow for about an hour and a half.

The yeast should grow enough that cracks form in your flour "blanket."  This is a good sign that it's ready.  Another good indication: you get a strong whiff of beer when you uncover the bowl.  Whenever you decide it's ready for the next step, add the egg, oil, honey and molasses and stir to combine.  Once it's come together, add the salt.  If you have a stand mixer, use the dough hook to get all the ingredients well-combined.  If the dough sticks to the sides of the bowl, add flour a tablespoon at a time.  Using the stand mixer to knead the dough adds a lot of helpful heat, and I'll let that do its thing for maybe five minutes before I knead it by hand a few minutes more on a floured surface.  Add flour as needed, until the dough forms a tight little ball.

Put the dough in a greased bowl and cover.  Let this sit in a warm place for about 90 minutes.  To check your dough for "rise done-ness," stick a thumb in the middle.  If the puncture remains, it's ready.  If the dough springs back, give it a little more time.  Knead on a floured surface for a few minutes.  To strengthen the gluten, gently stretch the dough as you knead it.  Return to the bowl and cover.  Repeat first rising.

After the second rise, grease a loaf pan to have ready.  Place the dough on the floured surface and press out any large air bubbles.  You should have a large square at this point.  Fold the top end down halfway and bring the bottom up to meet it.  Do this with the sides.  From here, form your loaf by pinching the bottom seam together and by pinching down the ends.  This part can get a little tricky, but just try to work it into something resembling a loaf of bread.  Also, gently roll the dough back and forth so that it is as long as your pan.  Put this in the greased loaf pan and let rise anywhere from an hour to 90 minutes.  Bake at 350 F for 30 minutes, turning halfway through.

Rising tricks:
-Put a bowl of water in the bottom of your oven and turn the oven on for a minute of two.  Turn off and put the bowl/pan in the oven with the door shut.
-Heat a pan on the stove.  Turn off the heat and set the bowl/pan on the heated pan.
-Put a cooling rack over a tub of hot water.  Place bowl/pan on the rack.

Snapshots

Growing up, I loved to draw and paint and make things with my hands.  But I got away from it out of frustration; nothing turned out the way I wanted it to, reason being that I wanted to recreate something that already existed.  It was like I wanted to make an exact copy of a photo or the perfect likeness of a flower.  Of course, I never could.  Then, one day not too long ago, it came to me.  And it seemed so obvious, so art-school-101, but I had never thought about it really.  Maybe other people do.  I hadn't.  Anyway, I realized that when I draw or paint, I envision the image as it exists, when, all along, I should have been envisioning what I wanted my painting to look like!  I should have been working with what I have, not with what someone else has already created.  In that moment of clarity, I realized that I am capable of creating my own world, and I can start now.

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Most Sundays, I'm the one in charge of opening the restaurant.  This means I have to be there at 6:30, which means I wake up at 5.  Driving to work takes me a little more or a little less than five minutes, and I don't shower or make too much of my appearance on these mornings.  The real reason I jump out of bed at 5 in the morning is so I can eat breakfast and take a little trip via public television.  After my eggs are fried or my pancakes are puffed, I sit down to breakfast with Rick Steves...and Rudy Maxa, shortly thereafter.  It's not really important where they take me or even the travel wisdom they impart.  The best part is seeing the sights, remembering the places I've been and planning for the trips ahead.  And actually, I spend the first few languid hours at work daydreaming about Paris or Istanbul, trying to be anywhere but there.

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Luke brought the Beatles into my life.  I was in love with Luke, and he was in love with the Beatles, so of course they became important to me.  That was somewhere around fourth grade, or sixth...  Who knows?  I was in love with him for a long time.  It seems strange that he was the first to really put them on my radar and not my parents.  That was their generation after all.  Hell, my grandpa took my aunt Phyllis to see the Beatles play at Busch Stadium in '66.  Can you imagine?  But rock 'n' roll was never really their thing.  Anyway, Luke told me that once when he was home sick from school, he was laying on the couch listening to Magical Mystery Tour while his dad was in the kitchen making a rhubarb pie.  Or maybe his dad was singing something from the album, or else Luke had been holding the record sleeve, thinking, "Holy shit, this is trippy....  And they're on to something."  Luke couldn't remember the circumstances, but that album made him think of being home from school and discovering the Beatles while his father was in the kitchen.  As for me, I still associate the Beatles with Luke, and vice versa, but now, whenever someone mentions rhubarb pie, I think of Mr. Prize.

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Our last night in Rome, the night before we flew home (I think it might have been a Wednesday?), my sister and I walked around the city after dinner to see all the tourist spots lit up.  We stopped by the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps before making our way to the Colosseum, giddy on wine and the anticipation of being home.  Across the street from the ruins, in front of the metro entrance and next to one of Rome's many accessible fountains, a man approached me.  He looked to be 30-something, wearing simple clothes and not carrying anything but his phone.  In Italian he asked if I wouldn't mind taking his picture with the Colosseum in the background.  Flattered to have been taken for a concittadina--or at least someone who might understand his language--and high on the charms of the Eternal City, I eagerly agreed.  He handed me his phone, and I pointed to a button, asking, "Questa qui?"  This one here?  He smiled just as wide as I surely was, and I probably counted to three in Italian, just to really lay it on thick.  He thanked me and went on his way and I rejoined my sister, proudly explaining the exchange she had seen.  I imagined the man sending the picture as an SMS to a girlfriend or mother somewhere in rural Italy, and I liked thinking that I'd be there too, in a way.

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Reasons to Give Thanks

Well, just one of many: this guy.

Sunday Wisdom

Recently, an acquaintance imparted this wisdom to me, advice that he had secured from his 102-year-old grandmother: The secret to longevity is a shot of whiskey and a glass of red wine before bed, every night.  Clearly a woman after my own heart...

Not Everything Is Beyond the Realm of Possibilities

Epilogue to a Tragedy in One Act

Tim is now engaged to be married.

Rob is officially dating the girl he proclaimed to be crazy.

Rebecca is wondering where the hell the past two months have gone.