For the first full installment of “Look at me! I cook
stuff!” I figured I’d talk about a few things I’ve already done, not so
recently. Why? Because I have a list, and it’s easy. My laziness has already
kicked in.
So, let’s talk about baking. More specifically, let’s talk
about bread.
I’ve always said that cooking is an art, but baking is a
science. Well, I never had a proper art class, but I wasn’t stellar at
chemistry. So even though most of my baked goods turn out “good” they never
seem to be “Ohmigod amazing.” Even if I follow a recipe exactly, they seem to
lack a certain muchness. I mean, you know, unless it’s from a box. I can’t
quite fuck those things up. The one strange exception for me has always been
bread.
There is something amazing about making truly good bread
from scratch. Maybe it’s the therapeutic act of kneading the shit out of
something. Maybe it’s the feeling of connecting to the thousands of people
before you in history who were baking bread before they could really walk.
Maybe it’s the feeling you get from making something that most people never
take the time to make. I mean, it’s just bread. It’s one of those grocery store
staples that everyone picks up before swinging through the produce section. I
think it’s some of all of these things for me. I love baking bread. Fucking
love it. Is it a lot of work? Yeah, sometimes. Do you need to plan ahead to do
it? Most of the time, yes. But man is it good for the ego, as it does impress a
crowd. “What? You made this?!?!
You’re amazing!”
Surely I’m not the only one who gets off on people loving the
shit out of things I make…
So, let’s go back a couple years, to my first foray into
making this “bread” thing that I had always just, you know, bought. Scott and I
were hosting our first “Friend Hanukkah” in our new house, and like a crazy
person, I wanted to MAKE ALL THE THINGS. So I made some of the things. Namely, latkes
and challah. Even though I was assured I, in no way, had to *make* challah, I
was stubborn, and insisted. Because I CAN DO IT DAMMIT. And I did. It was
amazing. And it wasn’t just good, it was pretty.
 |
| Look at that shit. Fucking gorgeous |
It was so good, that Sabbath decided that he, too, would
have a taste. Before everyone else. And by taste, I mean half of one loaf
because he’s a sneaky asshole thief. But I loves him.
 |
| I mean, *look* at him… |
Some quality time with Tha Cote in Colorado introduced me to this amazing
savory, herby quick-bread. I have no pictures. It never lasts long enough. Same
with the pumpkin bread that I dutifully make for Scott the instant it looks
like it *might* be close to fall each year. In fact, the pumpkin bread is
easily the bread I make the most. Because it’s fucking delicious. These two
things require little more than a stand mixer, so I never truly think of them
as bread. But they are, so they get a mention. You’re welcome, you delicious
quick-breads, you.
One day at work, many months later, while obviously not
working, I got this insane compulsion to make bread. I wanted to mix dough and knead it and watch it rise and smell it
through the house. Badly. And I wanted it that
day. Welcome to Scott’s world. I’m an only child and when I decide that
something is going to happen, there is very little in the ‘verse that can be
done to stop it. So, I scoured the interwebs for some recipes that fell
somewhere between a quick bread and “real” bread. Since I had no patience this
day, I needed something that didn’t have to rise for seven thousand hours. I ended
up making this rustic Italian boule. I like how it even had a crack in the
crust that made it look like a demented Pac-man.
This was, in fact, the very same week that I decided, on a
whim, to make pretzels at 10pm after watching an episode of Good Eats. Oh, Alton, how I love you.
But that’s another blog…
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