How Dare I?

I paced. I wrung my hands. I pleaded with God.
I considered pleading with the head of The Daring Baker's Blogroll herself, that this recipe was, well, too DARING.
Then I took a deep breath and flung myself off the cliff, accepting that I would attempt (with a 3.5 year old and 1 year old underfoot and only one successful attempt to make a loaf of bread ) to make a French Batard. All, so I could publicly parade myself about as a Daring Baker.

Come along on my journey: Mission 1:
1) First I decided I needed to attempt one more bread making excursion before embarking upon the Mount Everest of the bread-making world - a French Baguette. I decided to make Julia's Country Bread. Without closely reading the instructions, I presumed that since it was called Country Bread that it would be simple as surely people living on a farm (in the country) didn't have too much time to muck about with the necessary task of making bread. I never reread the instructions and simply began the process. During that process I learned (not until I came upon each broken bridge in my journey) that: a) this bread requires 3 different rises b) it required a baking stone of which I had none c) stabbing your bread with a large chef's knife is NOT the same as slashing your bread with a razor blade, d) spraying mists of water across the back of your gas oven could cause it to sputter and screw up its temperature gauging mechanism and e) pulling bread out early and then deciding it wasn't completely finished cooking and then putting it back in the oven while the cold oven climbed back to 400 degrees F does not produce edible bread.Status of mission: FAILURE

2) Next I thought I should read, re-read, and read again the instructions for making the French Batard (a short stubby version of the French Baguette) in hopes that I would be less likely to make a mistake. On about the third read through and 236th interruption by Sizzles and Sticky-Butt, I noticed that the recipe called for compressed yeast, also known as fresh yeast. I do not, nor have I ever, owned fresh yeast. I went to Whole Foods and found no fresh yeast. I went to the Dekalb Farmer's Market and found no fresh yeast. I called the Cooks Warehouse and found no fresh yeast. I called the critically acclaimed Alon's Bakery and was SHOCKED when I found no fresh yeast. Their head baker told me to call the head baker at Dekalb Farmer's Market (and tell her she told me to call her) and see if they might have some in the back. I still found no fresh yeast. She called her distributor and they don't sell fresh yeast anywhere in Atlanta.

Status of mission: FAILURE

3) Regardless, I soldiered on and knew I had to figure out how to substitute dried yeast for fresh yeast. Luckily, there are plenty of resources on the Internet that pointed out that one package of dried yeast is equivalent to a .6 oz cake of fresh yeast.

4) Make the bread. I was moving along nicely for about 15 minutes. Then I realized the appearance of my dough was not in step with Julia Child's description of the her dough. It was because I essentially added an extra cup of water and a tablespoon of sugar into the original recipe when I proofed the dried yeast, according to rough attempt at translating the package's instructions. So I figure I would wing it and toss in an extra 3/4 cup of flour.

Note to reader: Winging it while baking is NOT recommended.

5) I commenced with making the bread and had a heck of a time understanding the instructions, while keeping my children entertained. The small bowls of food I was putting on the floor for Sticky Butt, as if she were the cat, only bought me about five minutes at a time. Eventually, I started grabbing off hunks of dough and adding those to the piles of purple, blue and yellow bowls all across the kitchen floor. I even got desperate enough to let the girls play with a bowl of flour and measuring spoons. (My kitchen will never recover, somehow even the coffee maker ended up caked with flour). At some point during all this, I decided that I am a visual learner and googled away to find out if PBS had archival footage of this particular episode of Baking with Julia. AND THEY DID! Once I saw that, I got a clue as to the kneading and seam work required to make the batard.

6) Bake the bread. The first loaf was a bust. It turns out something is wrong with my oven (not a surprise as my 2 year old snazzy Kitchenaid has been nothing but a pain in my booty). I switched to the gas convection option and baked the remaining two to perfection.

Mission Status: THEY WERE GREAT!

So, I am officially a daring baker!

The Simple Life

I have been on a simple life binge. I realize this is probably an oxymoron but it is my reality. I'm gobbling up books, blogs, recipes, pictures, songs, ANYTHING that I can paw to hear about simplicity. All the while, life barrels on.

I have found some good limbs to grab hold of as life rushes me down its rapids. Some of those limbs belong to authors like Alice Waters, Barbara Kingslover, and Katrina Kennison. Their works hold me down. They could hold you too.

During the busy seasons of life, simple recipes become restful places to repeat the practice of centering your priorities back to God, your family and friends. Over my life the recipe that rises over and over as simple and soulful is my Grandmother's Chicken and Dumplings. It has been ages since my arms have pushed dough across a wooden table until it failed to bounce back to its glutenous knot; taking a butter knife and cutting long strips down and across; scooping and plopping limp rectangles into a bubbling broth of chicken parts and potato stumps.

Although the years have pulled the details of this recipe away from my mind, it has not been pulled away from the memory of my hands and fingers. Those hands and fingers were creating that food as far back as my ability to stand underneath my Momom's housecoat as she moved from the sink, to the stove, to the table.

I rest on those memories, making muffins with Sizzles week after week. We fill those muffins with blueberries, spotted brown bannanas, pumpkin puree, applesauce and strawberry jam. It is our refuge together when our days have been long with struggle, stress or disappointment. Together we find our way back to the kitchen, back to where we belong, back to the beginning of that muffin recipe. And we are home.

If you asked me for the muffin recipe that we use every week of our lives, I would have to look it up. If you asked my hands, they could tell you in one long movement.

One day, my daughter's fingers will tell it too.

Winnie the Pooh Pumpkin Muffins

Did you know yesterday was the birthday of Winnie the Pooh author, A.A. Milne?
Yeah, me either, until I stumbled upon the information while trolling the blogsphere and getting my daily fix of Sun and Candlelight.

Winnie the Pooh books were some of my favorite chapter books as a child. I remember being the lone kid in the first grade who spent the entire library hour on my knees trying decide which Winnie the Pooh book I was going to rescue from the dark bottom shelf. I liked Pooh books so much that I bought one of first chapter book in the series as soon as I got pregnant with Sizzles.

I think I even tried to read it to her the first week of her life but alas, she was more interested in hearing Brian's voice narrating the first of the Harry Potter books. Sizzles laid her stake as a daddy's girls right from the get-go.

But last night, she was at my shoulder when I checked out Sun and Candlelight so I read to her the entry and she got VERY excited about the idea of having birthday candles for Winnie the Pooh. So, although I was pretty tired from a crazy day at the CDC, I went to the bookshelf and found our copy of Winnie the Pooh. Sizzles brought it to the computer screen, declared it a "match" and demanded to know where the candles were.

Of course we needed something to put in the candles and after rummaging around the pantry, it was determined that he had all the ingredients for homemade pumpkin muffins. We whipped up the muffins and read the first chapter while they baked. After they were done, we shoved in the candle and song our homage just in time for bed.

This morning while we watched last night's snow melt away we ate Winnie the Pooh pumpkin muffins and then headed off to school.

The Sound of a Simple Snack

Listen.

Are you Listening?

Shh!

Its coming. . .
Listen, its almost there.

PING!
POP! Ping! Pop! Pop!
Pop!, Pop!, Pop!, Pop! PING!,

"I hear it! Mommy, I hear the popcorn!"
"Mommy, I Looooove popcorn!"

PING!
POP! Ping! Pop! Pop!
Pop!, Pop!, Pop!, Pop! PING!,

"Can I shake it? No, I don't want to get to close to the fire. The fire is HOT."
"You shake it."

"Is it ready?"
"Can I have some salt? I Loooove salt."
"Can I taste? Can I have some?"

"Mmm. I love popcorn! It is so TASTY!"

As mentioned at Boys Rule My Life, today was simple Friday. The challenge was to think about all the noises we let into our lives and to attempt to lock out noises that disrupt or dampen our day.

The loud HUM of a running microwave and the piercing BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP BEEEEEEP that repeats until the food is removed reminds me of the fact that in our house we abandoned microwave popcorn years ago. In our home, we practice the simple tradition of making popcorn on the stove top. Making your own popcorn is an inexpensive snack. Bags of corn kernels cost only a dollar or two and you only use about 1/3 cup of corn at a time.

Sizzles loves to sit on the counter, and listen to the popcorn as it explodes inside my heavy-bottomed stainless steel Dutch oven. During the pictured endeavor, we even sprinkled some freshly ground Parmesan cheese onto the popcorn. There are all kinds of heirloom popcorn kernels that can be explored with the kiddos.

Enjoy!

And don't forget to Listen.

Here is information I found on the web, about some of the popcorn varieties available.

YELLOW is a butterfly popcorn variety with an exceptional yellow corn taste. It has a high expansion rate, popping big and fluffy.

WHITE is a smaller kernel popcorn than the yellow, still with a relatively high expansion rate, popping up large and fluffy. It has a very mild corn flavor.

MIDNIGHT BLUE is a large kernel blue popcorn with an exceptional expansion rate. After it's popped, the kernel is white with blue hull speckles; it has a unique flavor.

MIXED BABY RICE is an heirloom variety which is HULL-LESS. The kernels are shaped something like rice and are white, red, and striped red in color. When popped, it has less volume than other varieties, the kernel is white and the flavor is light and delicate.

MAUVE is an heirloom variety which is a favorite. It has a moderate pop, and is tender and tasty! The meat is white to creamy in color.

MUSHROOM FLAKE pops up round; it's used mostly by people who want to caramelize their corn. Once popped, it holds its shape during shipping better than other types. It has a lighter corn taste than traditional yellow popcorn.

The Christmas Humbling

Occasionally I get cocky. Specifically, I have been known to tell people flat out that I am a great cook. To be fair, sometimes I truly am a great cook. But then every ten entrees or so I will fall flat on my face and serve up a totally crap meal. When it comes to baking (as long as you discount my constant muffin making) I tend to wipe out much more frequently than when I cook. Let's just say I have been kissing the hardwood floor this week.

I decided in all my Christmas shimmer that I was ready to try making gingerbread. Even better, I would go whole hog and make the COVER of the Martha Stewart cookie magazine I have been hitting like a stay at home mom hits the Merlot by 4pm on a Tuesday.

So, anyway, I thought I could hang with Martha.
Need I say more? (Yes, Yes, or this wouldn't be a very interesting blog would it?)

So I whipped up the gingerbread dough right before I had to go pick up Lilly from school. I was moving fast (I huge no, no in the baking world) and somehow managed to fly right by the molasses. As a testament to how uppity I had gotten in my Christmas cookie ways, I had gone to the supermarket JUST to get molasses two hours before this dough-making fiasco!

What is even more pathetic (and a reminder that I must humble myself before God and Martha Stewart) is that I didn't even figure this omission out until after I had split the dough, wrapped the dough, put it in my tinsle colored fridge and noticed the unopened bottle of molasses while grabbing my keys.

I won't repeat what came out of my mouth. It was very un-Christian like. It definitely wasn't in the Christmas spirit and I can only thank God (while apologizing profusely) that a certain three year old wasn't within earshot.

Sad. So very sad.

The good news is apparently you can totally take a kick in the pants while making this particular dough and still manage to throw down some spicy, chewy, gingerbread. So despite my fall down, I can still say I am great baker. Well, at least today. :)

Christmas Heathens

The children were absolute heathens this weekend.

Actually, Claire was sick and stricken with green ooze coming out of her bright blue eyes so she had an excuse. Lilly was just a heathen.

On Friday night, we attempted to take the girls to Mellow Mushroom for pepperoni pizza. Heathens.

On Saturday morning, we attempted to take the girls to Dancing Goats (the newly opened coffee bar in Decatur from the Washington-based Batdorf & Bronson Coffee Roasters). Heathens.

On Sunday morning, we attempted to take the girls to Oak Grove Methodist Church to listen to the Callonwalde Christmas Band. Heathens.

After a weekend full of stewing, steaming and screaming, Brian fell asleep on the couch at 7pm and I rolled up my sleeves in an attempt to teach some Christmas forgiveness. I explained to Lilly the word of the day (forgiveness) and told her that even though she was naughty (and boy was she naughty) that I was going to forgive her and still bake Christmas cookies with her. She smiled (I think she was also exhausted from her weekend of hullabaloo), hugged me and said, "Thank you Mommy."

We made Magic Muffins and she was an absolute angel.

Mommy, can we make a star pie?

Lilly and I have been cooking like crazy this weekend. It began on Thursday night, when Brian was driving back from back and forth across the state of Alabama for work (Atlanta to Birmingham to Tuscaloosa to Huntsville back to Birmingham and returning home to Atlanta all in the same day). I was checking out various mommy blogs aimed at cooking with kiddos and saw a pie decorated with stars. Right about that moment Lilly's ability to leave me in peace for no more than 3 minutes kicked in and she was pearing over my shoulder to see if what I was doing was of more interest than what she was doing. She saw the pie. "Can we make a star pie?," she said. Um. Sure.

Her and I both know I am a sucker for a "let's cook together" type of request. Despite it being 8pm on a school night, we made a pie using outdated pie crust I found crammed in the back of the fridge and a can of Oregon cherries I had in the pantry. Of course I couldn't just dump the can of cherries into the pie crust and be done with it, I had to make a real pie filling with corn starch and sugar and then we had to find a tiny cookie cutter shaped like a star to do the pie crust top. As you can see from the picture, the pie looked pretty tasty and Lilly was pleased as - well, pie. :)

We cooked the rest of the weekend together: bannana muffins on Saturday and home-made granola on Sunday. (More later on why I should leave granola to the professionals at Bare Naked).