Adventures in Breadmaking

I was so excited last weekend when the River Cottage Bread book arrived.  I read it cover to cover and among other things committed myself to regular bread making, and learning metric measurements.  Good grief, all of my favorite recipes need to be converted! 

On one of the kids two cold days from school this week, I began a sourdough starter and made my first batch of the basic bread recipe.  Though I am well equipped with my beloved Kitchenaid, I felt that we should experience learning what the textures feel like when hand mixing.  I love that Charles is always all over anything new and messy in the kitchen, so while Sid was out with a friend, he pipped up to help with the bread.

Those first two loaves did not stand a chance and were gone by yesterday.  So first thing this morning, I started another batch, but this time using a generous scoop of my incredibly happy sourdough starter.  It is a couple days before I should be using it, but it already has a wonderful aroma and takes so well to its daily feedings.  The book suggested a rye starter as a favorite, so that is what I am doing.

This lovely dough rises beautifully.  I have been letting it ferment it for about an hour, tamping it down and then letting it go another hour before shaping into loaves and letting prove.

I have ventured once before into bread making, but never used a pizza peel.  I just resisted spending the money on one.  Well just to illustrate how serious I am, I did go out and buy one earlier this week.  Now after using it for two rounds of bread, I have no idea why I was so resistant before, it has already saved me from burns and frustration.  Money well spent!

Since it is Super Bowl Sunday, in honor of the day, and since not a single Monday night football went by without them in my childhood home, BLT's are what's for dinner, on homemade sourdough bread.

Go Pack!

I grew up in a heavy football culture.  We had season tickets to the Los Angeles Rams and every Sunday that they were home, we were there.  I remember breakfasts or post game at the stadium club.  I remember watching my grandfather do the wave in the stadium or chant Eeeeverrret when we got a new quarterback, with one ear phone in so he could hear the commentators in the press box above.  I remember watching Eric Dickerson dance across the end zone.  If we weren't at the stadium, we watched from home and spent halftime running plays in the front yard.  My dad would use the palm of his hand to illustrate when we were young, then just give the play and critique afterwards when we were older.  This past Christmas, the tradition continued as dad took Charlie out front and began on the palm of his hand to show him how to "go out ten and button hook", and be sure to "cradle the ball."  Charles, grass stains and all, was in heaven.

 It wasn't horribly long after I moved away from home that Georgia moved the Rams to St. Louis.  They were still my team and I continued to root for them.   We were fortunate to ultimately end up in a town/state that also has a very rich football culture.  I was young and not often doing the grocery shopping on a Sunday when I lived at home, but you can't step foot out the door anyplace in Wisconsin on a Sunday without seeing a sea of green and gold.  Charlie comes home from school full of Packer facts, and Sidney wears her green and gold with pride.  Today as I head to church, I know I will be met with a green glow from within the sanctuary.  We will then spend the afternoon with our nearest and dearest (our family away from home), to root on the home team to a Super Bowl win. 

Go Pack!