In Praise of Coconut and Other Things

I was scared, Gumdrop. I read through your new challenge recipe and wanted to run away to a bakery and cheat my way through this one. The recipe looked long and complicated and frankly, not much fun. But it featured coconut and that's one of my weaknesses. I dare anyone to resist the fluffy snowy purity of a coconut layer cake.

Or the golden buttery chewiness of the ridiculously yummy black bottom coconut bars from this month's Cookie Carnival. Brownie topped with coconut? That's my idea of heaven (do you think clouds might be made of coconut? If so, I may be tempted to start believing in an after-life). These little near-instant gems were so addictive, I had to hide this last morsel from the Hub before he could devour them too. I've decided to use these as my secret weapon whenever the IE is mad at me so I guess I'll need to whip some more up today since I was not a pleasant wife this morning (if he's going to object to the way I brew his tea, maybe he could give him his special instructions before I make it?).

But I digress. The simplicity of the bars gave me the comfort and confidence to tackle the coconut twist bread. With my father coming over for dinner last Sunday, I had both a reason to make it and the time. Oh the time.

But rather than being a burden, I found I really enjoyed working my way through the various steps of this recipe and once again, I was smitten with the miracle of yeast. Doesn't it make you feel like some sort of magician when you see the dough rise? It's about as scientific as I get.

Making dough really is easy and once you get used to handling it, it's something you could add into your regular routine, don't you think? Okay, maybe not regularly, but certainly more often than never. Maybe once a month. The challenge in handling this dough was that whole pizza pulling thing. It's quite difficult to get it evenly stretched. My middle got really thin with thick edges. Is there a way to avoid that? Maybe you want it like that to give thicker edges to the wedges once baked?

Assembling the layers proved to be quite fun and it always amazes me how my modern urban soul lifts when doing this sort of simple time-spun task. It makes me feel connected to world in some weird way, knowing that generations of people have moved through these steps before me. Is baking some sort of human legacy? Who knows, but my idea of fun now includes twisting strands of stuffed dough and brushing them with melted jam and runny icing.

I was inordinately pleased with myself when the coffee cake came out of the oven. It looked like a danish my aunt used to buy from Bernie's Bakery at the cottage when I was a kid (Proust had his madeleines and I have cherry danishes. And date squares. And apple crisp. Well, a lot of childhood memories tied to homely baked goods). It was difficult to contain my pride (or the whoops of self-satisfaction) as I commanded the IE to come and admire my masterpiece. He was duly impressed and snapped off some pictures, all the while begging me to let him try a piece.

He was, of course, denied. It had to wait until after dinner. I was a little sad that my dad didn't mention the resemblance to Bernie's tasty treats, but once I bit into that sweet dough, I didn't care. I was back in coconut heaven. Good thing too because after a day of working on this thing, I was one exhausted but happy baker.

The Next Challenge...

Dear Pickle:

I am a little bit obsessed with coffee cakes lately. Is this a function of the season? Of my soon-to-be-stay-at-home mom status? Of the same retro bug that has me sewing aprons? I’m not sure. But I’m obsessed.

I made this bit of Crumb Cake Deliciousness from King Arthur on the weekend, because my MIL came by for tea. I LOVE crumb cakes, they remind me of my brief time living in New York as they seem to be infinitely more popular there than they are here. Last year when Starbucks carried one for a while, I was absolutely thrilled (my pants, however, were not as they got a little overstuffed by the number of slices I ate.) There is something perfectly homely and autumnal about a coffee cake.

As you’ve got me fired up about yeast baking too, I hereby challenge you to a yeasted coffee cake. Not just any coffee cake, the Flo Braker fiesta from 'Baking For All Occasions' that I'm going to email you (it’s tough to find recipes for yeasted ones, actually, so if you like you can consider my control-freakiness as doing you a favour. Heh.) It's called 'Coconut Twist Coffee Cake'. Let's do it!

Yours Coffee-Klatsch-ily,
Gumdrop

p.s. I was going to post the recipe but it was WAAAAAAAY too long I couldn't figure out how to make a 'jump'. Scared yet?

Baguettes. Le sigh!

...As Pepe LePeu would say...

Oh, Pickle, I fear you may have done it this time. I have dabbled in bread baking but, to be honest, I have never understood the urge to take it ultra-seriously at home. I've always lived in city neighbourhoods where a great loaf of one kind or another is just blocks away. I've had those Ma Ingalls/nouveau hippie urges to bake my own bread, sure. I'm often seen kneading up a batch of fresh rolls for Thanksgiving or Christmas or whatever. Sometimes I get fancy and put sweet potatoes or something in them. One time I bought a rather expensive baking stone, although Mr. Salty mistook it for a brick and threw it out after spilling pizza sauce on it in the oven, thereby ending that 'run' at serious home baking.

But this is the first time I've really seriously made a kind of artisanal quality bread at home.

I went hard-core, inspired by your challenge, and chose the recipe from The Bread Baker's Apprentice. I really was up early Wednesday morning to make a Pate Fermentee, which I learned is like a mini-version of the dough to come (flour - half bread and half all purpose, yeast - surprisingly instant again - water and salt). You knead this and then leave it in the refrigerator overnight, like an insurance policy on deliciousness. Although, part of you does feel ripped off that you did a whole bunch of work and nothing is coming out of it. YET.


You can't call this recipe 'easy' in fact, because there are a lot of steps that take a looooooong time - but the steps in and of themselves aren't complicated. On Thursday I got the Pate Fermentee out to de-chill, which took it an hour, then cut it up to add to a new batch of dough (which used the exact same simple ingredients.) Mixing - I went with the stand mixer because I am unlike Ma Ingalls in that I hate hand mixing stiff bread doughs. Kneading - this I did by hand because it's tremendously satisfying. Rising - 2 hours during which I did a bunch of work. Shaping - I even made a homemade couche for the bread to rise in from a piece of linen, spritzed with oil and sprinkled with flour. Rising part II - about an hour. Slashing - Xacto blade worked like a charm. Baking. Steaming while baking - first with a steam pan in the oven and then with three visits at short intervals to spritz the oven walls with more water, which had my babysitter certain that I was BONKERS. And THEN you have to wait a torturous 40 minutes before you get to eat them. I'm exhausted just typing that.

It was worth the wait. Leaving Paris out of the equation (because one must, always, or it is unfair to the rest of the bread-baking world,) AND leaving modesty out of the equation, I don't think I've had baguette this delicious. No, really. There are some good ones around, but there is something about the freshness. The work with the steam was a good investment, I think, making for that chewy crust that marks this species of bread.

I sent a loaf home with the babysitter, as payment for having to work for a crazy lady.

Thank you SO MUCH for making me do this. It won't be the last time - I figure that now that I've done it, it will get easier. Right? Right?!? This is the part where I think you may have done it. If I get serious about this...? There goes the rest of my leisure time. And my hard work at weight-loss.

Get ready for a new challenge before Tuesday. And don't put the yeast away!!!

Bisous,
Gumdrop

Cultural Exchange - Haiku Meets Baguette

Seven this morning
Momma the insomniac
Makes Pate Fermentee...
- - - - -
Old school recipe
The dough aging overnight
Torture for my soul
- - - - -
Oh! The thought of it!
Fresh baguette tomorrow night!
I can smell it now!
- - - - -
Children must eat it
Momma loves carbs but also
Anthropologie...




Thanks for the mountie
Husbands toiling on movies
At least good for laughs...

Banish the Baguette (but not why you think)

Ma chère Gumdrop:

This is not a picture of a baguette. It’s a picture of the IE filming on location. This, as you will recall, was the reason I needed to bake bread. But I’ve discovered another problem, possibly a bigger one. The problem is that I love bread. I love bread too much. But bread does not love me the same way. Sure, it pretends to love me; it makes me feel good with that first warm crusty hunk, so I go back for more. And more. Until I feel sick with self-loathing for loving something that just ends up making me feel bloated and pasty. Then when I swear off bread, it comes back with that come-hither scent wafting from the oven.

So that’s why there isn’t a picture of my warm, golden, albeit slightly misshapen, baguette. I loved that baguette so much; I had to kick it to the curb before I could take a picture.

This fantastically simple recipe from the talented bakers at King Arthur Flour was just the sort to make a novice bread maker like me fall head over heels with homemade bread. It’s so easy; I could even handle making it the old-fashioned way (with a wooden spoon and elbow grease) since I didn’t have my kitchen-aid at the cottage. As it was a rainy autumn day in August, the time required inside wasn’t a hardship, although the actual work time is paltry enough. It’s really just the waiting that makes the whole bread thing a chore.

So, recipe: dead simple and I found the second half of the dough, which I used the next day, produced lighter bread, but that may have been because I rolled the second batch into a longer shape (a baguette is a lot longer than you think and definitely a lot longer than your average baking sheet!).

Because of this shortfall, my baguette did end up misshapen as I said. It looked more like a French loaf than baguette, but hey, it still looked French! And with some wine and good company, it passed muster for a rustic cottage weekend. The loaves gave the most wonderful thwack when tapped and had a fabulous flake when torn. Like the best bread, it was a small soul-satisfying experience (I’d love to try it with actual King Arthur Flour next time, but that would require a road trip. Interested?).

I do need a bit more practice with my shaping technique before I take to riding my bike through the city with a few jaunty homemade baguettes and a lush bouquet of fresh flowers in my basket. But I’m definitely a few steps closer to the kind of life portrayed in an Anthropologie ad. As long as I remember not to eat any of bread. Who am I kidding? That baguette had me at bon jour…

Adieu,
P

And yes, this is just a random picture from the IE’s movie. While not a baguette, Mounties are yummy too.