Mrs. Baird can Suck It

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…

I Believe I was Told There Would be Cake

I’ve noticed a pattern.

Most of my entries start out similar to this: “Wow I haven’t written in awhile.”

And somewhere contain this: “I’m going to write more.”

But clearly, that’s not happening. I read the blogs of others and get all inspired and shit for minutes, but inevitably lose focus when it comes down to actually doing something productive. Actually, this happens in almost every aspect of my life, unless it’s cooking. I’ll get off my lazy ass at ridiculous hours and bust out an amazing culinary experiment, something for which I’m sure Scott is ever grateful (or should be). The most recent example was my sudden urge to make soft pretzels from scratch at 10pm on a Thursday. They were amazing.

You get a sideways view because I lack the motivation to figure out how to re-orient the photo, despite it being right-side up in the folder and every other goddamn viewer I have. Fuck you, blogger.

So I’ve started to wonder if it’s a lack of focus or subject matter that keeps me from writing, or simple laziness. I’m willing to bet it’s a little of both, but altering one might keep the other at bay for a time. We’ll see.

I don’t want a running diary. I don’t need to chronicle all happenings of my life. No one cares. True story. Those who want and need to know can keep more than up-to-date through my witty and amazing status updates on Facebook. Although, in reality, people should care. I do have a pretty amazing life, and it’s crammed full of all manner of interesting things. I play roller derby for fuck’s sake. That alone should yield an immeasurable cache of blog-fodder. Surprisingly it doesn’t. Most of my thoughts about the sport are of my own inadequacies and struggles – the likes of which me ego will not allow me share. Other things that are, in fact hilarious I feel a mafia-like compulsion to “keep in the family” for our own dear eyes and ears only.

I don’t have memorable dreams. Weird shit doesn’t tend to happen to me on a daily basis. I could write about all the things that make me angry, but that’s quite the list and we’ve already addressed my lack of commitment to writing on a regular basis. There's serious shit that goes down, but that isn't food for the masses, either. Maybe I'm too private a person to be an effective blogger. That could be true...So I end up being at a loss for what to rant about on a semi-regular basis.

So let's start with food (cos that's never a bad idea...)

Friday night was "Show Scott what Authentic Italian Food Really Is" night. So I made grilled shrimp with creamy polenta. It was....good. Not as magical as I wanted it to be. I have come to a sad realization that polenta may be one of those stupid things that I can't cook. Not even using the instant version. I'm determined to get the hang of it, and make it amazing. He thought it was magical, so I'll take the win, but I'll need to tweak it to make it perfect. 

This was also my first foray into "from scratch, using fresh tomatoes" sauces. It was tasty as shit, but I'm not a fan of what tomato skins do when you cook them. Surely there's a solution to this, yes?