Sunday Morning Tummyache

Sticky Pecan Caramel Rolls

Did you know that there is a recipe for magic bread dough that allows you to store the dough in the fridge for up to two weeks, giving you the opportunity to bake fresh bread at a moment’s notice?
Did you also know that you don’t have to knead this bread dough?
And did you know that this morning I decided to stay home from work because I woke up with the the urge to eat sticky pecan caramel rolls as soon as possible?
And did you know that I spontaneously whipped up that pan of sticky pecan caramel rolls in twenty minutes (not counting rising time), because I already had some magic dough stored in my fridge?
If you already know all of the above facts, I imagine you must be magic yourself. And then you probably already know about the huge tummyache that I got from eating half of the pan.
Bummer.
But having a tummyache on a sunny Sunday morning at home is still better than being at work.

The same roll, upside down. Or is it right-side up? It doesn't matter, just eat it.

I should stop complaining about about my tummyache and start telling you about this magic recipe. It comes from the book ‘Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day’ by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoë François. The title is ALMOST true; it’s not really 5 minutes a day, because they are only counting the handling time, not the rising and baking time, but it’s close enough for me.

The premise of the book is that you can mix up a huge batch of bread dough with a spoon or a stand mixer (easy), put it in a container without kneading (easy), put it in your fridge (easy, as long as your fridge has room), and anytime during the next 14 days that you need a loaf of bread, you just saw off a hunk, shape it into a loaf (no kneading = easy), and bake it in the oven (easy). The authors demonstrate their technique in a short video, here.

The bread isn’t just easy. It’s good. Really good. Not as good as the bread at Medici, our neighborhood bakery, but better than the bread at our local hoity-toity grocery store, which claims to be ‘America’s Most European Grocery Supermarket.’ That’s a fine middle ground for me, considering I don’t really have room in my little Ikea kitchen for a huge brick oven that can reach 20,000 degrees.

There is a master bread recipe from which you can make several different shapes of loaves. Ahem, or sticky pecan caramel rolls. Yes. Please. But there are almost 100 other doughs to choose from as well. A few that I hope to bake soon are Roasted Garlic Potato Bread, Spinach Feta Bread, Vermont Cheddar Bread, Oatmeal Pumpkin Bread, and a traditional Challah. Oh man I can’t WAIT. I’m so excited that I have already started emptying my closet of all the clothes that won’t fit me anymore after I make a habit of eating this bread on a regular basis. But I won’t care because I’ll be shopping for a new wardrobe with one hand and shoving bread (or pecan rolls) in my mouth with the other hand. And if you follow my trail of crumbs and find me, I’ll tear off a chunk for you, too.

Get the book and start baking!

Lidia Oh Lidia

"Oh no. OH no. Please don't squish me.
I do not want to be pasta today."



"Noooooooo! You can't make me do this!
I'm too young to go! It's not my time!
If you spare me just this once, I'll do your laundry for a year!"


"Crap."

No, I did not spare his life. Call me cruel, but I don’t see how a squished noodle without arms or legs could do my laundry. He put up a good fight, but in the end, his destiny was to be my dinner: lasagna with fresh spinach noodles and a Ragù alla Bolognese.
His was a noble cause. Who wouldn’t want to be flattened into a beautiful sheet of pasta, smothered with a four-hour meat sauce, sprinkled with mountains of various cheeses and baked in the oven until bubbly and crispy? You would.

That pasta, it sure was pretty. Smooth and silky, cool to the touch. A lovely pale green, flecked with tiny grains of spinach. And the smell...mmmmmm.....earthy and floury, with hints of egg and olive oil. I wanted to rub it all over my face. But I didn’t. Yes I did. No I didn’t.

After I got over the fact that I had made fresh spinach pasta with my own bare hands, and had called almost every single person I know to tell them the good news, I got to work making Lidia Bastianich's Pasticciata Bolognese, filling a baking dish with layers of pasta, Lidia’s Ragù, a besciamella (white cream sauce), and mozzarella and parmesan cheeses.
My oh my oh my oh my oh my oh my oh my.
I'm thinking that maybe you should be nicer to me next time you see me so that I might someday invite you over to my house to eat this. Also, I wish that Lidia Bastianich was my third grandmother.




So yeah, I made a fancy lasagna, basically. A heaven-sent fancy lasagna that was a LOT of work but a lot of fun and a LOT of tasty. But you could do anything with this spinach pasta. I'm thinking next time, if I don't have the time to make the accompanying four-hour meat sauce that accompanies this recipe, I'll just cut the pasta into noodles and serve it with sun-dried tomatoes, crispily browned garlic slices, and maybe feta cheese. Won't that be purty?
Any other suggestions?
Besides clothing your baby in it?




Spinach Pasta Dough
~ adapted from Lidia’s Family Table by Lidia Maticchio Bastianich

Ingredients:
One 10 ounce box frozen chopped spinach, thawed
2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for kneading and rolling
2 large whole eggs
2 egg yolks
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Directions:
Squeeze the spinach by handfuls to press out as much liquid as possible. When you think you’ve squeezed it enough, squeeze it again, by handfuls, using all your might. The drier the spinach, the better the pasta.

Crumble the spinach into the food processor bowl and purée it thoroughly, scraping it off the sides. With the spinach and the blade in place, add the flour and pulse to blend with the spinach, scraping as necessary.

Whisk together the whole eggs, yolks and oil in a bowl. With the food processor running, pour in the liquid ingredients on top of the green flour. Process for about 30 seconds, scrape down the work bowl, and scrape in all the egg residue too. Process another 20 to 30 seconds, until the dough has started to come together and a a ball on the blade.
Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead briefly, until it’s smooth. Wrap well in plastic wrap, and let rest at 30 minutes at room temperature before rolling. Store for 2 days in the refrigerator, or for 3 months in the freezer.

Remove googly eyes before cooking.

Makes enough for one delicious pan of Lidia Bastianich’s Pasticciata Bolognese

Panade Me?

Child.
How dare you turn up your nose at this dinner that I so lovingly created for our family?


Oh, I get it. You’re mad at me because when you asked for a snack today, I tossed some stale bread cubes at you and told you to go play in your room so I could concentrate on my iphone Words with Friends game.

Oblivious to your silent sobs, so wrapped up in figuring out how to get more points from a J, a Q, and 5 I’s, I barely noticed how you gathered up the scattered cubes in your chubby little hands and attempted to gnaw on them. I barely noticed how you walked over to the computer, typed in a search for ‘day old bread dinner’ and printed out a brilliant recipe by the Wednesday Chef. Not until I heard a little sniffle and was waving away the tear-stained printout that was blocking the view of my beloved electronic gadget did I hear you patiently saying, “Mom. Instead of ignoring your children and immersing yourself in a silly online game that you think increases your verbal intelligence but really is just a big timesuck, why don’t you turn these nasty hard bread cubes into something more palatable that the whole family can enjoy?”

Panade: Crusty bread cubes splendidly saturated with chicken stock and layered with chard, onions, and Gruyère.

OK none of the above is true. Because you are three years old and you don’t know what ‘palatable’ means. And while I do occasionally neglect you give you some alone time so that I can immerse myself in the glorious land of the Internet, it’s usually not for more than 3.5 minutes at one time. And I don’t feed you stale bread, UNLESS I have baked it myself AND it’s been soaking in homemade chicken stock AND layered with almost-caramelized onions, some sautéed chard, and a few handfuls of Gruyère. AND baked for 2+ hours in Le Creuset bakeware until it becomes a savory party in your mouth. It is called a panade. Just so you know. So stick your tongue back in your mouth, kiddo, and show me how delighted you are really are for this truly lovely dinner.



Thats’ better.

Readers, please see what Luisa, the Wednesday Chef, has to say about Zuni Cafe's chard and onion panade. She is more eloquent than I am, so I will not even attempt to describe the taste or the texture of this divine food. I'll leave it to her. So. Read her post, make the panade, and see for yourself!

Fancy Toast Personality Quiz (Sort Of)

Cassoulet on A Slice of Bread

There are two types of people in this world, and you can tell who is who by what they do with the fat that rises to the surface of a cooled stew on its second day.

The first type of person peers inside the pot and says, “Ew.” She then takes a slotted spoon, scoops off the fat, and discards it.
The second type of person shrugs and says, “Yum.” He heats up the stew and stirs the fat right back in.

Oh, and there is actually is a third type of person. The type who opens the lid of the pot, jumps for joy and exclaims, “MEAT BUTTER!”
She proceeds to grab a hunk of bread, slather it with meat butter, and happily devour it, smearing enough of the fatty goodness on her mouth and lips that she doesn’t need to use chapstick for the rest of the month.

Well, I suppose there is a fourth type of person, who makes a lean, healthy stew that doesn’t really have any fat.
And maybe there’s a fifth type of person who doesn’t ever make stew.

So that narrows it down. There are five types of people in the world, and all of the people on our beautiful planet can be categorized according to their feelings about fat upon the surface of a cold stew. Which one are you?

I am the third one. The gross one. Yes, I ate fat and I liked it. No, not fat...meat butter. And it was delicious. And if you came to my house, and I handed you a slice of home-baked bread with a lovely sienna-colored spread on it, and said, “Welcome. I made you a delicious meat butter,” I bet you would eat it and like it too, because you wouldn’t want me to cry. Even if you thought it was gross. But you wouldn’t think it was gross, because you wouldn't know what it was until after you had eaten it and proclaimed your love for meat butter and also, your friend, me.

Meat Butter (with beans). Doesn't it look good?

Recipe for Meat Butter on Bread
Here is the part where I usually post the recipe. But I’m not going to, because the recipe for the pictured cassoulet is pages and pages long, and honestly, if you’re going to make a cassoulet, you’re probably not going to take the recipe from a food blog that has had about 3 posts in as many years.
So.
Make a stew with at least one type of fatty meat. In this case, I used bacon, pork shoulder and chicken thighs.
Put stew in refrigerator overnight until fat rises to the surface and hardens.
Bake or buy a loaf of bread.
Smear meat butter (along with some stew) on a slice of bread.
Offer to a friend.

Getting Greens Into Her Diet.

Greens?

That looks like ice cream to me.

But it’s GREEN ice cream.

Basil ice cream!

That counts as a vegetable serving, right?

Yes it does, shut up. And make it. And then feed it to your toddler who won’t eat her vegetables.

(Even if you don’t count basil ice cream as a vegetable serving, you should still make it, because David Lebovitz made it and he is an ice cream genius and this ice cream is delicious. Come on, if a toddler will eat it, you know it has to be good. OK, so maybe this toddler eats ants off the floor, perhaps disqualifying her from becoming the next Gael Greene protégée, but who knows, some people think ants are delicacies, and maybe David Lebovitz should figure out a way to make ice cream out of them so I can feed it to my toddler and she can get a little more protein along with her greens.)

Basil Ice Cream

From The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz

• 1 cup packed basil leaves
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 2 heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk
• Pinch of salt
• 5 large egg yolks
• 1 lemon, preferably organic

Using a food processor or blender, grind the basil leaves, sugar, and one cup of the cream until the leaves are ground as finely as possible. Pour half of the mixture into a large bowl and add the remaining cup of cream. Place a fine-mesh sieve on top of the bowl.

Warm the milk, salt and the rest of the basil mixture in a medium saucepan. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warmed basil mixture into the eggs, whisking continuously. Then scrape the combined egg and basil mixture back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens into a custard and coats the back of the spatula. Pour the custard through the sieve and stir it into the cream. Zest the lemon directly into the custard, and stir the custard over an ice bath until cool.

Chill the mixture in the refrigerator (this usually takes a few hours), then freeze according to your ice maker’s instructions.

Alice Sucks at Jenga

Just a little glimpse into what Alice and I are doing these days when we're stuck inside the house waiting for springtime...