ode to a bread baker

i remember a time when i made bread into the wee hours of the night, spurred on by a desire to create, to share, to savor.

now david got his hands on my favorite all-purpose bread recipe, and is making his 2nd loaf of the week right now! how did i get so lucky?

<--- that's my first bite, an early morning sunday prelude to a proper breakfast.

things i love things i hate

i just finished watching amelie, which, among other things, reminded me of what i love and hate. rather than construct my history around that dichotomy, i decided to think fast about recent loves/hates:

1. walking down york street
2. the smell of roast chicken
3. a long hug
4. hope

that's it for now. thinking positively, so no negs.

enduring memories of food

i don't remember which grandmother said it, but i smile fondly when i recall an older matriarch bending over me, saying, "i just like food."

at the time, it seemed both funny and controversial to admit such a thing. this wholly confident mantra seemed absolutely reasonable to me, a slightly rotund and enthusiastic eater. likely around 10 years of age, my mom's mom delighted in my habit of over-staying at the table, calling me "a good eater," never raising an eyebrow as my grandfather and i continued our feasting long after others had taken leave. it's this love of eating that likely informed my curiosity around cookery, even though that path was less straight and narrow and more roundabout and halting.

and now as i read food magazines, chef biographies, and search for new go-to recipes, i'm reminded of my own influences in cuisine growing up in the 1970's heartland. it was my mother, whose invention and determination to not raise kids who eschewed all but hamburgers or PB&J on trimmed Wonder Bread crusts, it was she who invited our tummies to imagine foods not found in the middle of the country. sure, we ate our share of green bean casseroles--and they were delicious--but we also had chile rellenos and belgian waffles, and we learned to master the art of chopsticks and egg roll folding.

while my interests were focused on eating rather than cooking, it was mom's knack for creativity in the kitchen that jump started my curiosity as a 30-something cook. and she--ever cautious about the parental push--chose the perfect time (just last year) to offer me a tome of recipes dear and old and packed with memories. it's a joy to read and explore, a treasured gift, for sure.

cookery talk

tonight mom and i attended a talk at the local barnes & noble on the topic of cookbooks. this monthly program is facilitated by kim ode, a star tribune journalist who invites cookbook authors, chefs, and those interested in cooking to talk cookbooks. the convening sports a weighty title, the "edesia book club," named after the roman goddess of good food, but the night's talk was far more low-key: a homegrown chat about flavors, methods, and good food.

mediterranean food was the topic at hand, and invitees included randi roth, a local cook with a flair and curiosity for cookery, and hometown restaurateur and chef, brenda langton, of the beloved cafe brenda.

randi roth, brenda langton, and kim ode

what fun to hear tales from the cook next door, whose travails through a particular mediterranean tome have fueled her interest and palate, and what a treat to sit down with brenda, who opened cafe brenda 22 years ago after visiting the infamous greens restaurant in san francisco.

here's brenda, waxing poetic about one of the featured cookbooks, arabesque, by claudia rodin.

after listening to tales of food preparation lovingly told, mom and i were sold: tomorrow night we're taking nancy pearl to cafe brenda. reservation: made.

holiday sweetness, by me.

made my first batch of x-mas cookies--ever--this year. for my inaugural bake-off, i chose a treasured family recipe: mice.


co-workers agreed, this buttery concoction made the last day of work before break much better* than years past.

*i made that up. but they liked 'em!

'tis the season

not sure when it all started. i imagine it was when i began cooking more and getting interested in regional and seasonal foods. or it could have started back when i learned of the uncertain life of a banana and the length it traveled to reach my larder each day. that one still hurts.

more importantly, we're both focusing on the bounty of the west coast, and being more intentional around what really grows around here... and when. the latter is tricky. we're so accustomed to eating whatever sounds good at the moment. it's been fun and puzzling to learn what is available because it is the season, and what is available because of genetics or petroleum or some such aberration.

we're still working on this part: we've begun to cut out the safeways (easy) and trader joe's (not so easy) from our consumer diet, and are spending more time at the coops, neighborhood markets, and farmer's markets. these are all excellent lessons in seasonal food, while exposing drought, blight, hail storms, and other such natural events impacting food production. at the coop, you'll likely see notes near produce, explaining why the apples' condition and flavor may be flawed. these spots offer quite an education.

without intention, this weekend was a celebration of what we've been learning, reading, and experimenting. david made two loaves of expertly braided challah. we made our own noodles for a lasagne filled with locally-grown meats and vegetables. we made a delicious salad from greens and vegetables grown and harvested nearby. when all was said and done, the can of tomatoes, the hand full of walnuts, and the oil and vinegar that comprised the dressing were the only ingredients we couldn't trace in family tree fashion.

this is all a work in progress, progressing toward something we haven't identified, but it sure is fun in the process.