Easy Bread/English Muffins

Between my fear of baking with yeast, my finicky oven and my overall belief that homemade bread is never as good as something fresh from a boulangerie, I almost never make my own bread. That being said, after the challah, the pretzels, and now these english muffins, my fear of yeast is essentially overcome and I am looking forward to the day that I have an oven powerful enough (and kind enough) to form a crusty brown loaf from a ball of perfectly risen dough. In the meantime I am finding loopholes, ways to get over my fear of yeast without worrying about the repercussions of a weak oven.

Enter the english muffin. About five years ago when I saw Alton Brown making english muffins on Good Eats, I knew I would have to make them one day. Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I finally gave his recipe a go; it was an utter disaster. I almost blamed myself and gave up, but the truth is I just didn't like the recipe. There was just way to much yeast giving these an overly sour, raw flavor and a gooey, under risen texture. Instead of giving up, I forged on and did some more research and noticed that most recipes used at least two times as much flour for the same amount of yeast! It really wasn't my fault, the proportions were off as I had thought and I comforted myself by realizing that maybe I do know a thing or two about bread making.

The second round yielded ideal results, I used half the amount of yeast, replaced half the flour with whole wheat flour and wound up with beautiful, toasty, fork-splittable disks that are as good for absorbing melting butter as they are for making a sandwich.

Dinner Parties/Parmiggiano Popovers

Parmiggiano popovers, braised short ribs, homemade tagliatelle, sauteed broccolini, balsamic glazed cippolini onions and finally, chocolate-croissant bread pudding. If you're mouth isn't watering yet, you should know that this is a very real menu and one which I made this past Friday for a group of 10 friends. If I may humbly stroke my own ego, dinner was awesome. I could not have been happier and I am pretty sure that my guests left as well fed and satisfied as I could have hoped. The only problem with this dinner is that I have no pictures to show for it. Well no pictures except for the ones of these popovers, which I have deemed the best part of the meal (only because I get to showcase them here). Do not despair; I will be remaking a lot of the dishes so that I can post recipes and pictures, so consider the 'menu' a tease of what's to come on TBD. In the meantime, let's get back to the popovers.

These popovers do really deserve a whole post's worth of attention, actually I would say that they might even deserve two posts worth of attention, but I don't want to be boring. I planned, unplanned and replanned Friday's dinner about 25 million times before I finally settled on a menu and these popovers were a very last minute decision. Not usually an impulsive person, I sure am glad that I decided to make these fluffy little guys on a whim, because they are officially my obsession of the week. And I am not just saying that because I actually have pictures of them. To me, popovers have always been that special treat that restaurants serve in their breadbaskets instead of boring old bread, but I knew that a homemade version could only be better, fresher and more satisfying. I was right.

I have always had plain popovers, but I couldn't resist adding some cheese to these and I have absolutely no regrets about that (shocker!). These bulbous, muffin-looking things 'pop' because of all the steam created on the inside, hence the name.

NYC/Soft Pretzels

Although it has been a few years since I have lived here full time, New York City is my home and each time I set foot in this great place, I can't help but remember why I love it here. The buzz, the energy, rude people and nice people alike make New York different than any other city and all of these contribute to its character. More than the energy and people, it is the smells of New York that always remind me that I really am home; in this way even the smell of the subway is somehow pleasing to me. What I love the most, however, is the smoky smell of pretzel carts that wafts through the bustling streets catching me off guard and forcing me to pause, take a whiff and appreciate how fantastic this place truly is.

Although the times I have actually eaten those pretzels are few and far between, to me just there smell is enough to make them a New York City classic, a food with a history and soul that adds character to what sometimes feels like a cold and heartless place. For this reason, I believe that it is a classic to be recreated in the home kitchen. Although making these at home by no means imparts the same smell as the carts, the flavor and texture of the pretzels themselves is infinitesimally better.

You should know that making these is a bit of an undertaking, but the time spent making them is well worth it. So if you're looking for a cooking project, this is a great choice. Your results will be fantastically chewy and fluffy. If you're looking for less chew and more fluff, I suggest making full size ones, if you're looking for chewier ones then make minis; I made a mix of both and in my opinion the larger ones are far superior.

Second Chances/Pumpkin Cranberry Bread

So it's that time of year again, the time of year when the weeks suddenly start flying by, the thoughts of papers and exams are constantly whirling around my head and before I know it, I haven't cooked anything in almost a week because I have actually forgotten what day it is. I usually like forgetting what day it is, because it is so often a sign of being on vacation, of relaxation and fun. Then there is the other type of forgetting what day it is which means that I start counting days based on how far away I am from a due date, and find myself having tunnel vision up until that day. It is at times like these that I accidentally make 6 pumpkin cranberry loaves and believe it to be the funniest and most exciting thing that has happened in weeks (sadly, it probably is).

Let's back track. Yesterday, I finally had the time to procrastinate, which, from the looks of my agenda, won't really be happening in the next few weeks and so, I decided to bake.

Cultures/Challah Bread

I guess I should be starting off this post by telling all of you that I am not actually Jewish, but sometimes I think I am. Actually, I went to a small all-girls Catholic school. Once in university, I found myself surrounded by a lot of wonderful Jewish friends, so my appreciation for the religion as well as for the classic foods grew tremendously. That, and the fact that I am from New York City where Jewish food reigns, means that for me it is comfort food, well some of it (sorry gefilte fish, I am just not ready to try you yet). This weekend while many of my friends were home for Rosh Hashanah, I decided to honor the holiday by trying my hand at Challah Bread.

I am notoriously (kinda) awful at bread making, I never knead enough or correctly, the bread always comes out as a heavy brick, and so I usually choose to accept my weakness and buy bread. Well, not anymore. Today, I realized that bread making is more or less a cinch, now that I am out of my Milanese pseudo-kitchen and have a decent counter to knead on.

Just Keep Trying/Whole Wheat Bread

So, I was going to hold off on this post for a bit, but based on how horrendous my ricotta gnocchi photos were I decided I had to prove myself as a pseudo-photographer. Also, I really want some prettier pictures to be at the top of screen.
As I have discussed in previous posts, I have a really really difficult time making bread. I wish I could understand why, and I am starting to learn that I don't knead properly, or enough. The bread today was pretty good though and I am feeling like my practice is finally paying off. I don't know quite why but I always seem to choose bread as my ultimate procrastination method. I think that the long intervals of non-work time are perfect for this because rather than constantly being busy, I can study while the bread is rising and take breaks to tend to it.
Studying for exams has been even harder this time around, because aside from the beautiful weather calling to me, I am starting to feel the end of the school year. For the first time ever, the end of the school year makes me want to cry. Yesterday, I bought my ticket to go home from Milan, I held off for a few weeks just to keep living with the idea that maybe the end of my year here wasn't creeping up. However, I had to face reality (and cheaper fares) yesterday, and it was such a sad moment. Buying my ticket online definitely didn't have the same dramatic effect, as say going to a travel agency would have, but still I was heartbroken.
The funny thing is that this weekend was kind of a roller coaster, one of those weekends when I would have liked to be home, to feel safe and coddled and not so exposed. Despite this moment of insecurity this weekend though, I just really feel that everything is starting to make sense here, to fall into place. I feel like I belong, I feel like people want me here and I feel like I have a life here. Leaving just as things are starting to get good seems like I am cutting something short, preventing a great thing from becoming even greater. And because of my mixed emotions, I gave myself permission to interrupt my studying and make bread. As usual, even if it was just for a mere moment, everything made sense.

Courage/Frenchie's Bread

I did it! After watching, who knows how many videos on kneading and proofing and second rises; reading endless recipe variations; and trusting myself to feel what was right, I finally made a tender, crusty, satisfying loaf of bread.

I think my greatest conclusion is that bread shouldn't be bread until it is bread. In other words, I wanted my dough to look and feel like bread, but usually that meant that I had over floured it and thus the result was dense and just wrong.

Saturday I went to a birthday party near Torino, it was a birthday party for a set of twins, and they were the only people at the party I knew. As I was leaving my house, I was so nervous. As much as I am getting used to living in a new country, my Italian lacks certain colloquialisms that would definitely make it a lot easier for me to socialize; however, I force myself night after night to put myself out there, let myself feel uncomfortable and just try to have fun because the truth is, I have nothing to lose. So I was at this party, and I was having such a nice time, everyone was friendly and interesting; and, people started asking me what I wanted to be "when I grow up." Truth, I do not consider myself a grown up yet (unless I am trying to convince my parents that I am "grown up" enough to do god knows what).
So as I was telling my new friends that no matter what my career would consists of cooking and food, they started to ask me more details, like what I prefer to make and what type of cuisine is my favorite. I decided to tell them about my adventures in breadmaking. Maybe it was the fact that I was willing to admit my failures to a group of strangers, or maybe it was that I was willing to admit it to myself, but the next day I opened the oven and out came the most perfect, golden loaf of bread. Putting myself out there, in the kitchen and out can be daunting, but at least this weekend, it was totally worth it.

Frenchie's Bread

125 g Bread Flour
125 g "00" flour + 2-3 tbsp. for dusting.
12.5 g Fresh Active Yeast
2 cups of warm water.
3 tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. salt
1. Crumble yeast in water and let sit until foamy on top. Meanwhile, combine flours and 2 tbsp. olive in a large bowl. Add in water and combine thoroughly.
2. Lightly dust your counter with flour and begin kneading the dough. I used the "slap and fold" method. Gourmet describes this as " Slide your fingers underneath both sides of dough with your thumbs on top. Lift dough up (to about chest level) with your thumbs toward you, letting dough hang slightly. In a continuous motion, swing dough down, slapping bottom of dough onto surface, then stretch dough up and back over itself in an arc to trap in air. Repeat lifting, slapping, and stretching, scraping surface with flat side of bowl scraper as needed, until dough is supple, cohesive" (http://www.gourmet.com/magazine/video/2008/03/bertinet_sweetdough) This took me a long time because I am less familiar with this method.
3. Place kneaded dough in a well oiled bowl and let sit in a warm spot until double in size.
4. When it has doubled, slide onto counter, fold over several times to release some of the air bubbles, form into a smooth ball and let double again.
5. Take the ball out, reshape into a smooth loaf and place on baking sheet, gently cut an X into the top of the loaf. Lightly oil the loaf and let it rest/rise for 30 minutes. Meanwhile preheat oven to 425 degrees. When the oven is fully heated place a baking sheet filled half-way with water into the bottom of the oven.
6. Make sure oven is fully heated and put the baking sheet with the bread into the oven. After about 15 minutes, add another cup of cold water to the baking sheet at the bottom of the oven, the steam will help the bread fully rise and develop a thick crunch crust.
7. The bread should be ready after about 30 to 40 minutes. When the crust on both the top and bottom is golden brown.
8. Make sure to let the bread fully cool on a rack to allow for proper air circulation. It is also important to let the bread finish its cooking cycle.

Courage/Failed Bread

I was probably eight or nine when I made my first (failed) attempt to make bread. I was definitely an ambitious eight/nine year old, because I decided that I would make baguette. I guess I figured that as a student at the French school, I had the right to reach for the top and make the simple but practically impossible to perfect crusty, golden brown loaf. What I ended up with was a dense, over floured white log which would have probably been ideal as a fire starter come to think of it. Maybe it was the fact that I forgot to knead the dough, nonetheless the visions I had of myself as a grown-up adorned in white with a cloud-like hat upon my head went right out the window. Aside from the pain of personal failure, I was also devasted because this bread was intended as a Mother's day gift (made the day-of) and I was left with something likened to semi-edible playdoh for my mom. I tried to cover up my tracks (more for myself than for her) and pretend the bread fiasco never happened, but any good thief knows that flour leaves some serious tracks; and, well I was busted. My ever-pragmatic mom thanked me for thinking of her and then suggested that I leave bread-making to the professionals, because no matter what homemade bread was never as good as what you could buy. I didn't believe her then; and I don't believe her now. After all, breadbaking started off at home.
So, several years later and an ocean away, I find myself living in Italy and my desire to learn about food and learn to make the "un-makeable" is overwhelming. I have decided to put my failed past behind me and try to make bread again. I have no training, no reason to think that I am capable of doing so, other than the fact that I am desperate to succeed, desperate to burn my fingers on the freshest of crusty, golden goodness.
I am proud to announce, I am getting there. Well the burned fingers part is taken care of, and as for the perfect bread, I think it will happen on the next try. Italians are by far some of the most regionalist people I know, and the debate over which bread is best is practically never-ended.
My favorite is Sicilian bread, unlike bread from other regions, it uses salt and is topped with crunchy sesame seeds. I decided to try this one first. It was good, definitely edible especially dipped in succulent italian olive oil. It was a little denser than I wanted and the top crust was slightly leathery (the bottom crust was perfect!). I identified a few of the mistakes I made and tried to rectify them today when I made a Rosemary-Walnut Boule.
Huge improvements, the inside was fluffy and flavorful, and the leatheriness was less of an issue. Next, I am going to try out the Focaccia alle Cipolle I keep buying at the panificio on my street.
I am 98% confident that tomorrow's attempt will be "the one." If not, well then definitely the day after tomorrow's. That's the thing about cooking, you can just keep trying, time after time until you get it just right.