Bread Dough 101

I sometimes wonder if there is a pioneer gene- or perhaps it's all those Little House books I read in the 70s. Whatever the cause, doing "it" the old fashioned way has much apeal for me. Now don't misunderstand me, as much has I love quilting-I do it mostly with the help of a machine. As much as I like canning, I'd be less enamoured with the process minus my wonderful 5 burner gas stove. And bread making wouldn't happen without my Kitchen-Aid stand up mixer.
I got my cobalt blue, stainless steel bowl friend about 20 years ago as my first Mothers Day present and since then we have been inseperable. Shortly after she came into my life, I decided I would learn to bake bread. At that time, classes in things like bread baking were limited to large cities, where the "foodie" movement was but in it's infant stages. I taught myself. Taught might be a mis-nomer because what I really did was make a whole bunch of mistakes until the only thing left was somehow right. Being the quilt machine, gas stove, industrial mixer kind of girl that I am, my bread recipes tend to be a little mechanical and basic. On the flip side, once the basic bread is assembled then I can be creative in the outcome. My pizza dough become Foccacia, Garlic Butter Knots and Bread Sticks. Yeast Roll dough transforms itself into my Cinnamon Roll recipe.
Most people think bread is complicated- it isn't. The ingredients are as basic as they come. Flour, liquid, flavoring, levening....and time. It's the last ingredient that throws most people into dispair, and dough into trashcans. Bread needs time, and for some it's the one ingredient in such short supply that they dare not spare it. I get that. I love a good short-cut, but some drives are better taken at a slow pace. Bread is one of them. The following is my basic yeast dough recipe which can become Big Fat Yeast Rolls or with a few additional ingredients and a technique called a jelly roll you can have Cinnamon Rolls.

6-7 cups Bread Flour
2 cups milk warmed to no more than 110 degrees (bathwater temp)
2pkgs yeast
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup melted butter
1 egg
pinch of salt

In large mixing bowl (I use my beloved Kitchen-Aid with the mixing paddle) add warm milk, yeast and sugar. Begin mixing together. Add melted butter and egg, more beating. Lastly the pinch of salt.
After all ingredients are mixed, start adding the flour about a cup at a time. Make sure to give it time to incorporate. Before you add the last cup or so, change to dough hook attachment. Add the rest of the flour or as much as needed to make a SOFT dough. It should just be pulling away from the sides. "Knead" the bread using the dough hook for about 10 min.
Place dough in a large bowl that has been greased with either a little oil or the leftovers of melted butter from the paper or glass. Cover the dough with a towel or I use a plastic grocery bag and let rest and rise in a warm place for 1 hour or until doubled in size.
Place risen dough (lovely and spongey) on a floured surface and begin to knead it by hand. This is a great work out and not as complicated as it looks. You are simply working the dough- giving it some energy and preparing it to rise again. Simply push, roll and pull back for 10 minutes or until your arms drop off- which ever comes first.
Grease your baking sheets, loaf pans or whatever pan you will use to bake your rolls or bread. Remember to have plenty of room for the rolls/bread to rise. They will double again after shaping. Shape the dough and place it on/in baking pans. Cover with a towel or plastic. HINT: I always spray my rolls with cooking spray, roll them in butter or somehow "grease them". It will prevent sticking to the covering surface and give them a nice sheen in the baking. Let rise in a warm spot 1 hour or until doubled in size.
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees and bake uncovered for approximately 20 min. for rolls. Watch them the last few minutes- NO BURNED ROLLS! While watching them, do it up right and melt another couple of tablespoons of butter and brush it on the tops. Serve warm- YUM!

Happiness is a brown speckled egg

With all due respect to Charles Shultz, his infamous happiness list needs to be amended~ as far as I'm concerned happiness is a brown speckled egg.
Over the past months I have been waging a campaign called "Team Chicken", in the hopes that my husband will finally surrender and embrace having chickens. Some methods have been subtle; leaving chicken publications in areas that encourage reading (enough said) and then others more overt- "Honey I would love to have chickens for my birthday." To say my efforts have met resistance would be an understatement, but I am not one to give up, easily that is.
Yesterday, at lunch, I decided to enlist our friends Chris and Trish in my assault. Now, drafting soldiers when they are sort of unaware of the battle ahead is not the wisest of moves- but they are familiar with all areas of animal husbandry and support in my joining the world of chicken ownership was sort of assumed. Their opinions were mixed and my heart rose and sank with each varied opinion. Chickens are dirty, chickens will eat just about anything, chickens will roost in your trees, fresh eggs are much better. To add to the roller coaster, I found out that Chris' dad had just got chickens. 25 to be exact, and my first thought was- "that's way over his quota, unless he's gonna add eggs to the bar-b-que menu he offers at his corner store- he should share the chicken wealth." Everywhere I turn, people are reveling in their feathered companions. Well reveling might be an eggs-ageration (cough cough) but I am chicken-less and envy kind of comes with the territory.
I was so pre-occupied nursing my barren existence that I almost missed the part where Trish reminded Chris that his dad had sent me fresh eggs. For me? I quickly brightened- forgetting my brief loss. After all the war is not over and I do get fresh eggs- on a regular basis. Slowly the wheels began turning...perhaps some chicken apprenticing would be in order. Help feeding and caring for the chickens would give me practical experience (a huge bonus in my Team chicken column) and I'll feel better about putting in some effort in my egg supply.
Today I took my 18 wonderfully brown eggs and made Deviled Eggs, Fudge Brownies and Yeast Rolls. As I washed them I appreciated the variety in size and color. I wondered at their happy little speckles and found happiness. I know they did not come from my own chickens, Team Chicken still lives. But as in most worthy campaigns, you have to remember to take the time to appreciate what it is you're fighting for.

Fried Rice

As a child, living in Hawaii, I was exposed to all sorts of Asian cooking. When my son was born I wanted him to be able to try new things as well- ok maybe I just wanted someone else to be able to eat with chopsticks since my husband is all about meat and potatoes. Matt learned to eat with chopsticks before he could do cursive, but for the most part we only ate Chinese, Japanese and other Asian foods in resturants. It seems to be that the simpler the foods the more intimadated we can be to make them at home.
Such was the case with Fried Rice.
Now I know, Fried Rice as we know it is "americanized"- but we love it and whether it's American, Chinese or a hybrid of both, limiting it to "take out" is to deprive oneself of a delicious meal anytime. The anytime part is what motivated me to the following recipe.
Being in college, Matt tends to keep strange hours. He studies late at night, sleeps in then suddenly changes it all when called into work. Meals need to be ready to heat and eat, but still have some nurishing ingredients. Fried Rice has become a go-to item. Cooked fresh, to his tastes and with ingredients I can pronounce, it checks all the boxes.
Hint: If you cook the rice in large batches ahead of time, you cut the work in 1/2.

4 C. cooked long grain white rice (better to slightly undercook rice)
1 C. onion (I prefer sweet onions)
2 eggs (beaten)
3/4 C. soy sauce
3 tbls sugar
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic (pressed or smashed)
1/2 tsp powdered ginger (freshly grated ginger is great too, but adjust to taste)
1/4 C. vegtable oil (using cooking spray will cut fat, but the taste and mouth feel of rice will be different)

Mix soy sauce, ginger, garlic and sugar together, set aside.
In a heavy bottomed skillet (I used cast iron), add a tbls. of oil and heat on high. Add eggs, coating the whole bottom of the skillet. When eggs are cooked on one side flip over and cook remaining side. Remove frome pan. Let cool as you cook onions, then slice into thin strips.
Add another tblsp of oil and saute onions. Cook until soft but not brown (you may want to reduce heat).
Add remaining oil and cooked rice. Stir to heat. If the rice is cold from fridge, you may want to beak it up a little with your hands before adding it to the skillet.
Add soy mixture and incorporate it into the rice. The rice will absorb the sauce and change color.
Add egg strips, mix and you're ready to serve.

This is a basic platform- you can add veggies, cooked meats, seafood- whatever your tastes call for. It's also a great time to use some of those bits of leftovers.

Sharing

Over the last several months, I have been thinking of what it means to "share". For those of us who ever babysat multiple children or were real parents (unlike myself I have one fabulous son who is 20) and had more than one child; the word share was a 24/7 concept. Share your toys, share the last cookie, share the blanket. My mother would often remind my sister and I that if we didn't "share" there would be none. Sharing was not just a way to stay out of trouble, it was done in the face of having nothing at all.

Whole communities exsisted because of the practice of sharing and it's more wholesale version "bartering". The owner of cows traded milk for eggs, the owner of chickens traded eggs for wheat; and before too long everyone had French Toast. It wasn't a mandate or a rural form of communism, it was a means of survival and community. Maybe it's the Wal-Mart on every corner, or that life seems to move so fast, or maybe we are so self-absorbed in our own lives to see need or name our own, - whatever the reason, we simply don't share much anymore.
Last summer, a friend declared she had pears. Her huge pear tree had provided her with an abundance of fruit and she wanted to share what was left. I am not a huge fan of pears; although one of my favorite jams I made this year was a Pear and Plum with Ginger- go figure, but I told her that I would like some to make jams for Christmas. The next Sunday, Lorie's husband appeared with nearly a bushel of pears, which I in turn transformed into various jams. After exhausting my recipe supply as well as my jelly jars, I still had about 2 doz. pears left. I remembered that Mrs. Payne, who's family owns the farmers market I frequent, had longed for some pears to make jam like her mother used to. The next day I shared the remainder of the pears with her.
Because one friend shared with another, dozens of people were blessed with pears in some form or another- sharing is foundational to community. It's sad that it seems to have gone out of fashion. While others endeavor to "bring back sexy", I think I might just try to bring back sharing.
So what does that have to do with amazing 1/2 Gal. canning jars? They, and dozens more of varying sizes, come from an older gentleman I never met. A friend of mine, who is always on the lookout for jars for me, was helping him clean out his basement. He used to can long ago but age and health problems make it difficult for him. She asked if he was willing to sell them. He said, "No." But he was willing to give them to me, which brings me hope that sharing is making a comeback!

Leftovers- Lemon Rosemarry Chicken

For years my husband Jim has taken his lunch to work. He is the ultimate in for-going taste for frugality, hence the rise in Chef Boyardee stock during the 90s. At some point, I made it a practice to pre-pack containers filled with "leftovers" in the hopes that he would eat better and that nothing would go to waste.
Although warmed leftovers is a wonderful step up from opening a can-o-lunch, it can still be boring eating a repeat of last night's performance. Turning a leftover into something new is not always possible, but when the morph is extremely successful- I celebrate.

YEA for Lemon Rosemary Chicken into Lemon Rosemary Chicken Salad on 7-Grain Whole Wheat!
1/4 C. Mayo
2 Tbsp Honey Mustard
Splash of Lemon Juice
Fresh Ground Pepper & Sea Salt to Taste

Mix and combine with 1lb (give or take) of cubed cold chicken. Serve up and don't forget to save the leftovers :)

A few weeks ago my wonderfully frugal husband decided that buying some staples in bulk was a good idea. Flour for my bread making, sugar for jamming and rice. The flour and sugar went into bins no problem, but the rice was a new item and with nowhere to really store it, the bag sat on the counter. Not sure how many re-locations the parcel made, but eventually it was either the floor or a perpetual weight lifting session everytime I went to cook, bake or make a glass of tea.

Then it dawned on me~ jars. With countless empty jars waiting to be filled taking up space in the pantry, I figured why not fill them. It would keep the rice safe from varments not to mention a decent way to move portions from the pantry to the cupboard without a small crane.

Eventually canning will resume, but not to worry; with all the jars I get gifted from family and friends there's room enough for all.

Over-Coming Fear With Strings Attached

For as long as I can remember, I have had an irrational fear in the kitchen. I'm ok with knives despite several nail-biting viewings of films such as Halloween and Scream. Perfectly calm with gas burners, electrical appliances and even though I have thrown a few across the room after poor performance- can openers do not produce the shivers. Nope, for me it's the pressure cooker. I have even been known to flee the room and watch Star Trek re-runs with hubby on Thanksgiving when my dear mother-in-law decided to use the dreaded hissing pot for cooking black-eyed peas. I have never been witness to a pressure cooker induced disaster but the combination of the steam engine noise, rattling weights and old stories of pot roast being scrubbed from the ceiling has been enough for me to refuse it's use.

Imagine my sadness when I learned that if I wished to can veggies, including my husband's favorite- green beans I would need to use a Pressure Canner. After much success with jams, pickles and salsas, I had convinced myself that being a hot-water bath canner would be enough for me. Another sign was that I was not able to grow or obtain any fresh green beans this summer. Satisfied with my accomplishments, I took a trip to the Farmers Market last Tuesday. To my surprise and amazement I was able to pick up a bushel of beautiful green beans. I quickly shoved them into my trunk never considering how I would preserve them. After unloading into my kitchen it hit me, short of meeting a hungry vegetarian hoarde all craving green beans- I would have to can them.

Brave I am not, but stubborn I am and with that in mind I viewed several on-line videos on pressure canning and since none of them included explosions or severe scalding burns, I headed to Wal-Mart and bought a pressure canner. After several hours of prayer, reading safety instructions repeatedly- I proceeded. At each step I found myself fearing less...ok so the first batch I did sit in the dining room which is a safe distance from my stove- but the point is I did it and by the time I reached my 5th load I was an old pro.

Basking in my success, I tried a bite out of the single non-sealing jar (there were 22 quarts). The taste was fabulous, yet as I reached the last chew a new sensation appeared~Ptooi! What had begun as what warriors describe as the sweet taste of victory became something akin to chewing on a rope that had come unraveled. Strings gagged me as I realized, they call them string beans for a reason. While planning out my nearest exits and the probability that I would experience severe steam burns should the canner explode- I forgot to string my green beans.

My dear husband has proclaimed them a wonderful source of fiber, while he choked down a bowl that night during dinner. So I over cam the fear of the pressure canner, learned that you must string your string beans and that my husband will suffer through much to ensure that I focus on the win rather than the loss.

BTW~ the next day my local farm stand had stringless beans for sale. I bought 10 lbs and got 9 quarts for when company or those who prefer other options for their daily fiber come to dinner.