#1 - Earth to Table

... otherwise known (in the Maxand/Weeg house) as "ass bread."  I know I've piqued your curiosity now, so here we go.

I got a GREAT cookbook for Christmas.  It's beautifully photographed, has a lovely narrative about growing your own heirloom wheat, and it's very of the moment - Earth to Table: Seasonal Recipes from an Organic Farm.  I love the book and all that it seeks to impart on our way of thinking about, preparing and eating food.

I'll admit, we cheated a bit on our New Year's Resolution by starting early.  Jeremy opened the book while we were at my parents' house in Idaho for Christmas and, encouraged by his recent success in baking bread with my mother the master bread maker, decided to try out a bread recipe from this book.  It's called "Milk and Honey Bread" and the authors claimed to make loaves and loaves of this in their restaurant every week.

Well, we are stumped.

We have tried to make this bread no less than five times.  We've used two different kinds of yeast, we've tried proofing the yeast before adding the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients; we've tried using the Kitchen Aid, we've tried mixing it by hand.  I even broke out my great-grandmother's bread bowl and Jeremy's grandmother's bread pans to see if it was a matter of coaxing the bread into rising and baking properly by offering it up to the bread baking goddesses of the past.

Nothing worked.

This bread WOULD NOT RISE.

The best we did was on our final attempt.  We hovered around the bread all day, tried to rise it for hours and hours more than it called for in the recipe.  What we finally got was ever so slightly less dense than our first several tries, but barely more edible.  To top it off, the end looked like, well, an ass.  Thus, we have named it ass bread (Jeremy actually took a picture of the ass bread in a compromising position in the bathroom, but I'm choosing not to post it).

So, dear readers, I am posting the recipe for you (now that I think I've figured out how to post the recipes without completely blowing copyright laws) to see if any of you out there who have a little baking goddess (or god) in your blood can make this recipe work.  I dare you to figure out how to incorporate six cups of flour into one cup of liquid.  If you can, you must have done much better in high school chemistry than I did!

Milk and Honey Bread

adapted from Earth to Table

6 cups flour, divided

2 tsp kosher salt

1 tsp dry instant yeast

1 cup whole milk

1/4 cup local (um... not in Wrangell) honey

2 tbsp melted butter

Mix together 2 cups of the flour, salt and yeast

In another bowl, whisk together the milk and honey.  Beat in the dry ingredients until combined and then gradually work in the rest of the flour (with a spoon, or a kitchen aid, or whatever magic you can make work)

Turn it out onto a floured surface an knead for about 10 minutes, place in a large greased bowl (if you have one from your grandmother it might help) and let it rise someplace warm, like near your fireplace or in the oven with the light on.  This is where it's supposed to double in size.

Punch it down, divide it into two halves and put it in greased up bread pans.  Cover them up and let them rise again... until doubled in size...

Brush them with butter and bake at 400 degrees until golden brown and hollow sounding when tapped, 30 minutes or so.

#3 - Sarabeth's Bakery

So we had a dinner party (you'll find a LOT of posts will start this way!)

First of all - Jeremy made the most delicious beef stew ever.  It was so good, in fact, that I am giving you the link.  This woman must be some kind of beef stew goddess because, as I just said with the chicken, I don't really love beef stew.  But I will dream about this one.

I was in charge of dessert and, lucky for us, Sarabeth was next in our cookbook line.  We (and by we I mean Jeremy and by Jeremy I mean I did not complain one bit) chose Triple-Chocolate Chocolate Pudding.

What a simple way to finish a warm, wintery dinner.  Nothing tricky -- just make a custard and add a ton of good chocolate.  Next time I'll strain it through a fine sieve, but it tasted so good I don't think anyone noticed.  Top it with a little freshly whipped cream (we like to add cinnamon) and, voila.  You'll never go back to instant pudding.

Triple-Chocolate Chocolate Pudding

adapted from Sarabeth's Bakery

3 tbsp unsalted butter

4 1/2 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

1 oz unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped

3 cups whole milk (I know, I know... but it's worth it!)

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup Dutch processed cocoa powder

3 tbsp cornstarch

1/8 tsp fine sea salt

3 large eggs plus 1 large egg yolk, at room temperature 

1/4 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp dark rum 

1 tsp vanilla extract

Melt the butter and chocolate together.  I used the microwave, but you should probably double boiler it to be true to Sarabeth.

Whisk the remaining sugar with the cocoa, cornstarch and salt in a heatproof bowl.  Add the eggs, yolk and cream and whisk until combined.  Heat the milk and 1/3 cup of sugar until warm and steamy.  Once the milk is warm, slowly whisk about half of it into the egg mixture to temper the eggs - then add it all to the pan and bring to a full boil, whisking while you do it.  Reduce the heat and let it boil for about 30 seconds and then remove it from the heat.

Add in the melted chocolate/butter mixture along with the rum and vanilla and mix until combined.  Pour it into the size of bowls, jars, cups or pans that you'd like (bell jars are great for this), cover with plastic wrap and cool to room temperature before chilling in the fridge for at least 2 hours.

Top with more whipped cream (like I said, adding a little powdered sugar and cinnamon is terrific) and some shaved chocolate.

xo

~m

#2 - around my french table

I am in love.  Or Dorie Geenspan is in love.  Or I am in love with Dorie Greenspan.  Or Dorie Greenspan and I are both in love with this chicken.

Let me explain.

One of my best friends told me once that you know you've fallen in love with the right person when being in a relationship with them elevates you to the best version of yourself.  I take that as truth when it comes to romance, and I will tell you that it certainly applies to this chicken.  You know I'm right, because those of you who know me know that I oftentimes don't even eat chicken - you know, it can be so.... chickeny.  But this chicken has me converted.

It is everything chicken should be - moist and flavorful with a crispy skin.  It makes the house smell delicious and makes you feel like you are eating in a classy French bistro or in your French host-mother's farmhouse kitchen.  It's that good.  And the gravy...  I mean, you have to make the gravy.

Dorie calls it "roast chicken for les paresseaux" or "roast chicken for lazy people."   Trust me, no one will think that you are lazy, they will think you are some sort of cooking deity who has come straight down from heaven to feed them this chicken.  Beware - if you are dating the person you are cooking this for, don't take it lightly as they will likely be yours forever.  But lazy it is -- you do little more than buy a chicken (the barge was late, no whole chickens on the island so we bought pieces and it worked just fine) and roast it with some herbs (also no fresh herbs on the island, we used dried) and vegetables and call it a day.  Apparently the oven does the rest of the work and turns it into the kind of thing chicken dreams are made of.

roast chicken for les paresseaux

adapted from around my french table

Olive oil

4-5 lbs of chicken, a whole one or pieces

s&p

2 sprigs each rosemary, thyme and oregano (or dried)

1 garlic head, but in half horizontally (no need to peel)

2/3 cup dry white wine, chicken broth or water

4 baby potatoes, quartered

2 carrots, cut into thick chunks

4 whole shallots or 1 quartered onion

Preheat the oven to 450

Rub the inside of a large, high-sided casserole or dutch oven with oil.  Season the chicken with s&p.  Put the chicken in the casserole with the garlic, herbs, and liquid.  Top it with a glisten of olive oil and pop it into the oven.  Roast it for about 45 minutes and toss in the vegetables.  Roast for another 45 minutes (check after 30 for doneness) and that's it.  Take it out of the oven, put it on a beautiful platter, and let it rest while you make a little pan gravy.

Put all the juices back into the pot and put the pot over high heat until it boils.  Throw in some additional chicken stock (1/2 cup) or wine and scrape up whatever bits you might have.  Reduce a little and you have a pan sauce.

Since we used pieces, I sliced up the breasts so that everyone could have a little dark meat and a little white meat.

xo

~m