Restaurant Widow

No Knead Bread Update

Well, I have made 2 more loaves of no-knead bread with continued success (Husband started calling me Panera).  The second loaf (pictured above) was made with 1/3 of the flour replaced with whole wheat white flour (which I bought this past summer from Quiver Full farms at the North Market), and it made a very nice wheat bread, which typically suffers from a charmless crust and a slightly bitter flavor.  I added about an ounce of barley malt syrup to increase the sweetness (melted into some hot water, then tepid water added before adding it to the flour).  Husband and I both liked this better than the first loaf, and we loved the first loaf - it was completely consumed within 10 hours of baking. 

But, the third loaf was by far the best.  I ran out of bread flour, and used one cup AP flour, which seemed fine.  This time, because I wanted the bread to come out in time for lunch, I allowed it to rise 12 hours yesterday, then rested it and gave it the second rise overnight.  This morning I formed into a ball, rested about 30 minutes, and then plopped in the oven.  I also upped the salt to about a tablespoon; I would still like it to be saltier, but Husband liked it just as it was, so you can salt it however you wish.  This loaf had a crust so crackly it was as if it had been fried!  It also made a very pleasing crackle sound as it was cooling, which lasted about half an hour.  Okay, I will now stop with the bread posts, unless the hard rolls I make today turn out spectacularly.  Come on, it's January, I'm lucky to be motivated to write at all!

Third loaf:

Ladies & Gentlemen, I Have Made Bread. And It is Good.

And it was easy.  A little too easy.  This post all began when I became peripherally aware that the food blogging world was astir with the triumph of "No Knead Bread."  I scoffed at this idea - no knead bread - a reader suggested I try it after my New Year's Resolutions, and then a friend (a non food-blogging friend, and one whose food authority I trust implicitly) asked me recently if I had thought of making this miraculous bread about which Mark Bittman had written.  Wait, this stemmed from Bittman?  Hmm.  You see, I had originally thought this whole "No Knead" thing came from the back of Family Circle or some other busy mom-type publication (not that there is anything wrong with those).  But this was from a certified source.  A food writer for the Times, for the love of crumb cake.  I made a mental note to look up the article.

Then I was riding to work the other day, listening to my favorite podcast - KCRW's Good Food (click through to listen, and scroll down to read some advice on baking the bread), and lo and behold, here was Mark Bittman, praising the No Knead Dough and discussing his source - Jim Lahey, of Sullivan Street Bakery in New York.  Double Hmm.  I'm going to have to give this a try.  (Read Bittman's article here - you'll have to register for free - be sure to watch the video of him making the bread with Lahey, it helps).

I would try this bread and document it for you dear readers.  Fortunately, most of my readers are non food blog reading Columbusites, so you don't know I'm writing about something which has been written about over and over.  For those of you who are avid food blog readers and have already read everyone else's experiences, well, now you can point and laugh at me for being a Jane-come-lately.  I can take it.  But I have to spread this gospel of bread.  Can I get a witness?

I think I might have spoken about my lack of patience on previous occasions.  As much as I love baking, I also love intuitive, interactive cooking - the results are delightfully nearly instant.  Bread, however, is an entirely different story.  But, I have a few days off this week, and, since I told myself I'd clean closets, I thought I might as well bake a little bread in the meantime (it's not called procrastinating, it's called building urgency).  The trick with this bread is time.  It doesn't take a lot of active time, but there is a lot of waiting.  So, start about 28 hours before you are going to serve the bread and have something else to do to occupy yourself in the meantime.  The recommended initial rise time is 14-19 hours, but, as my kitchen is rarely over 65 degrees in the winter, I let it go a full 24, folded it over, rested for 15 minutes, and then the second rise was about 3 more hours.  And I immediately started a new batch of whole wheat with malt syrup.  I'll keep you posted on that one tomorrow.

This bread turned out beautifully.  It might be one of the most satisfying things I've made.  The crust is crackly-crisp and lightly browned - so crisp is this crust, in fact, it's no match for my sad bread knife - the crumb is fully of shiny tunnels indicating a long, satisfying rise with lots of yeast growth and death, it is savory and yeasty - I highly recommend that everyone try it.

Because Jim Lahey tells Bittman in the article to "get the word out, let everyone know," about this recipe, I am going to post the recipe in the extended post, along with lots of photographic documentation of the rising process.  Enjoy!

Let's Hear it for Preservation

 
Raise your hands if you have the winter blahs.  If you're anything like me, after the hustle and bustle of the holidays are over, you're ready to throw on some jammie pants, hop into bed, pull a nice down comforter over your head and settle in until the daffodils start to show their perky yellow heads, surfacing only to consume large amounts of carbohydrates - I am particularly fond of them in the form of cheesy pasta . . .

Unfortunately, the mortgage, cable, electric and gas companies keep expecting me to pay for services rendered, and I am therefore forced to rise occasionally and make my way into the cold, dark world to work.  Besides all of that, I am pale and mushy enough as it is, and I fear months spent immersed in dreamland, eating nothing but piles of Parmesan and butter-coated pasta surrounded by piles of books would render me into a shapeless translucent blob. 

All of that to say, I would like to raise up three cheers for modern preservation methods (an ancient ones), but particularly the invention of the white-lined can, which allows us to enjoy delicious tomatoes during even the coldest months.  Lately, I have been enjoying Trader Joe's fire roasted tomatoes in a can, which have a nice smoky flavor and make eating the occasional vegetable during winter tolerable.  I made a similar recipe the other day, but instead of the pasta and chicken, I placed a piece of fresh cod on top, coated it liberally with salt and pepper, and baked at 450 for 7 minutes, then added a little lemon juice and the bread crumbs and returned to the oven for another minute or 2.  Just so you know how you can interpret this recipe in other ways.

I love making bread crumbs - they seem to make everything just a little more delicious, giving a nice texture to pasta (or soup, or whatever).

Read the recipe, if desired, in the extended post . . .

Knackwurst & Kraut

Okay, this isn't really a recipe, but a good dinner, nonetheless, and it continues my Thurn's adventure.  Thurn's knackwurst is a rich, dense sausage - very rich, evidenced by the fact Husband could barely consume 1.25 of these links.  To be honest, they are a rather large wurst, with a cracking casing and a meaty, juicy interior.  They must have mustard, kraut, pickles, or something to take the edge off the richness.  I was pining for a little ligonberry compote or something sweet and tart on the side, but, as it didn't occur to me until just before serving, I didn't have a chance to whip one up. 

I don't use my slow cooker very often, as a matter of fact, it's almost exclusively used for pork & sauerkraut on New Year's Day.  It's used well here, where the sausages can release their yumminess into the kraut.  I suppose you could throw your potatoes in as well, but I prefer potatoes to be cooked in loads of salty water, so did mine separately and mashed them with a simple blend of milk, butter, salt and pepper. 

Knackwurst & Kraut for 4

Dump a package of sauerkraut in a slow cooker
Add 4 links of knackwurst
Add a bottle of beer

Cook on high for 2 hours or low for 4 hours, taste to adjust seasoning - I added a pinch of salt, pinch of brown sugar and a splash of white vinegar.  Place on plates and serve with mashed potatoes, good hearty mustard, pickles, etc.  Serve with a nice big mug of beer.

Local sources - knackwurst from Thurn's Specialty Meats, 530 Greenlawn ave (read about my first trip); sauerkraut from Blues Creek Farms in the North Market.

Getting in Touch with My Inner German: Thurn's

Correction:  I originally stated that Thurn's was east of German Village; it is, of course, west.  I apologize for the error and for anyone who was driving around lost.  Thanks, editors!!
I've been meaning to visit Thurn's for about 2 years now, and my desire has finally caught up with reality.  Thurn's is an old school German charcuteir located just west of German village.  The other day, Chef was regaling me with the delights of Thurn's giant smoker, their delicious knackwurst, and their livery braunschwager.  He couldn't believe I had never paid them a visit, and warned me not to expect anything fancy.  Another friend, who has more business writing a food blog than I do, to be honest, described it as a place where he has seen "men in rubber pants spraying blood off the walls."  Hm.  This, I had to see.

Fortunately, I got to see into the hanging room, but it was filled with all manner of sausagey wonders and no blood or sides of pig.  What I did see was a lot of sausage.  And a few pigs' feet, and 2 kinds of head cheese.  I chose a variety pack, I like to think, having never been to Thurn's before and wanting a sampling of the wares.  So it was (left to right on above picture) braunschwager, a lightly smoke spreadable liver-based sausage (which the cats love); bacon; black leona, a heavily smoked and robust summer sausage; and knackwurst, a lightly smoked veal and pork sausage.

There are far too few of these sorts of places in Columbus, Ohio.  Being the fast food carryout bag of the country, although located in an agricultural wonderland, we seem to be the first to jump onto every convenience bandwagon offered.  Take some time to search out these local treasures and support them so they will always be around. 

Thurn's is open for retail Thursday - Saturday from 8am - 6pm.  The rest of the days are for smoking and preparing the products. 

Info:  Thurn's Specialty Meats 530 Greenlawn Ave (just west of I71) 614.443.1449

Andouille and White Bean Soup

Ah, bean soup - so tasty and hearty, so warming on a cold and dark winter day, and so unphotogenic.  I have dressed you up as best I could and still, you look far less tasty than you really are.  Such it is and so is life.

This soup is so easy you can have it from cupboard to table in about 20 minutes or less, making it perfect for those nights when you come home tired and cranky and don't want to fuss a lot in the kitchen.  Or when your kitchen is spotlessly clean and you don't want to ruin it by cooking something elaborate but your hair's too frizzy to go out.  I like it with a nice hearty beer, such as the Bell's Two-Hearted ale, which I had - something nice and zesty to compliment - and tame - the spiciness. Croutons are optional and directions for preparing them (why you would ever purchase them in a box is beyond me) are located at the end of the post.  Andouille, as I've used it, is a delicious Cajun pork sausage with is lightly smoked and (hopefully) packs a good deal of zesty heat.  (Andouille originates in France, where it is typically a little firmer and frequently eaten cold, at least according to the Oxford Companion to Food.)  Of course, the beans will tame a lot of the heat, so you might want to serve your soup with a little extra Tabasco on the side, like I did.  It makes the beer taste even better.  I like the Andouille from Weiland's, which is made in-house and is delightfully hot.   

Andouille and White Bean Soup - serves 2-4, depending on hunger level

8-10 ounces andouille, casings removed
6 ounces wine - anything; white, red, or the leftover rose I've had in my fridge for a month (optional)
2 cans Great Northern or other white beans, drained but juices reserved
2 cups chicken stock
salt & pepper

See?  Only 5 ingredients!  In a medium sauce pan over medium-high heat, crumble and brown the sausage, reserving a little of the browned meat for a garnish, if desired.  Deglaze the pan with the wine and cook for a few minutes until the wine has reduced by 3/4 and has thickened with porky goodness.  Add the drained beans and the chicken stock and bring to a boil.  At this point, you can go ahead and puree the soup with a stick blender or allow it to simmer for 15-20 minutes to allow the flavors to mingle.  I chose mingling.  Turn the heat off and puree the soup, leaving a few beans in tact for texture variation if desired, and taste for seasoning; add salt and pepper as desired.  Add about 1/2 cup of reserved bean juice and stir; turn the heat back on and bring soup to a simmer.  Place in bowls and top with croutons and reserved andouille bits, if desired.  You can also put a dash of cayenne on the top for beauty's sake, but to be honest I only did that for the picture.  Splash on a good deal of Tabasco and enjoy with aforementioned hearty beer!

How to make delicious croutons: Preheat oven to 425 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment, foil, wax paper, etc.  Cube some good bread - I am particularly fond of croutons made from Eleni Christina's (641 N. High st, facing Russell) focaccia - and place in a big bowl.  Drizzle with some good olive oil and toss to coat.  Sprinkle with sea salt and toss again.  Bake for 8 minutes, rotate pan, and bake for 2-4 more minutes.  Remove croutons when they are very lightly golden but still have a little give in the center, if you like them that way, or bake until they are a palate-grinding block of rock-hard crumbs, whichever you prefer.  These croutons are good on all manner of soups and salads, but they are especially delcious when eaten directly off the baking sheet, right out of the oven, standing in the kitchen before bringing the soup to your loved ones.  See?  The cook always gets the best little bits. 

Latte at Home, no Fancy Equipment Required

This experiment was born from my frequent fits of incredulity over the amount of money Husband and I spend in coffee shops.  I'm not sure I can begin to calculate the gallons of espresso we consume in a month, but the price tag would buy us a cream of the crop at-home espresso machine in about 2-3 months.  It matters not that we have a perfectly fine coffee maker at home, we still spend around $10 a day for coffee (I can't imagine the sounds coming from my mother's mouth!) 

It occurred to me a few weeks ago, while re-reading It Must Have Been Something I Ate; there is a chapter on Hot Chocolate, and Steingarten gives a famous recipe for the best hot chocolate in the world (no, I'm not giving it here, go out and read it for yourself).  Part of the recipe involves blending the mixture with an immersion (aka stick) blender for a few minutes.  I chewed this over for a few weeks - could you froth milk with a simple stick blender? and finally tried it the other day - guess what?  It frothed!  I wouldn't call this a cappuccino-worthy froth, but it works wonders to replace my morning breakfast latte.  Okay, technically, this is a cafe au lait, as it is made with coffee and not espresso, but I used the French press, which produces a more espresso-like concoction than the typical thin coffee-maker brew.

At Home Latte for 2

Prepare coffee in a French press: I use 7 tbsp beans - grind to a coarse grind - for my 6 cup press, pour in almost-boiling water and allow to steep for 5 minutes before plunging.  While the coffee is steeping, get on with the milk: in a small but deep sauce pan, heat any type of milk (I used 2%) over medium heat.  When it is about 120 degrees (at this point, you should be able to put your finger in for a second), reduce the heat to low and blend with a stick blender for 3 minutes; let sit for one minute and then spoon the frothy milk into the desired drinking vessel.  Pour the coffee over.  At this point, you can add a sugar cube and a few drops of vanilla extract, if you like.  This is my favorite breakfast and pre-work pick-me-up.

Crumbs

Husband has commandeered the kitchen, preparing to have his mother's side of the family for our "Christmas" celebration tomorrow, and my most recent dining experience was so terrible I'm not ready to write about it.  I did, however, update my Top 5 list as a result, feeling I can no longer recommend the establishment.  Why?  Because if my guests always feel as if they are right and well-cared for, I should feel the same when I dine out.  See if you can find what's missing.

All of that to say, it's been a slow week here at Chez Widow, but I did want to give these crumbs:

• A reminder that Oink!Moo!Cluck! farm is still delivering once a month during the off-season, so if you are finding yourself searching for something local and delicious in this off season, they will bring chicken, pork, beef, sausages and all sorts of things right to your door!  Order by Wednesday the 17th for Saturday the 20th delivery.  You can see their assortment at their website, and place orders via email.
• I just learned you can make delicious cafe au lait with a stick blender!  More an that later.
• Saveur magazine apparently thinks canned peas - not any special canned peas, mind you, just canned peas in general - are worthy of a top 100 recommendation.  I didn't think this year's list could get any worse than last year's, but there you have it.  Canned Peas.
• Here's a little bit of wine education for those of you who order 2 year old California cabernets at dinner and then insist the bottle stay on the table, unpoured, to "breathe" while you enjoy your pre-dinner cocktails: if you think the wine can breath while in the bottle, try this: try to breathe through a sippy straw - it's tough, isn't it?  How about, you let me pour the wine into a nice big glass, letting it get some air, and you try to refrain from drinking it all before your nice big steak arrives?    Capiche?
• I read the best book this week (in about 14 hours flat, practically nonstop), and I've been recommending it to everyone I like.  Toast, by Britain's Nigel Slater, is one of thse books so well written it kind of made me want to hang up my pen.  It's a coming of age story told in food  - mind you, a boys' coming of age, and there are certain things which go along with that which might make the book inappropriate for some sensitive readers.  Touching without ever being precious, it's a great read - sad and funny, sometimes at the same time, go out and read it! 

Well, there are just a few thoughts from my week.  Let's toast to the coming week being more exciting than the last - Cheers! 

More Firsts - Skillet Bread & COTA

Well, I am not sure if unleavened skillet bread counts as baking bread or not (you might remember it was one of my New Year's Resolutions), but I tried it this week for the first time thanks to my new copy of Mangoes & Curry Leaves, a Christmas present from Husband (thanks, cookie!).  I have just decided that no, it does not count, but it was fun at any rate, and I am looking forward to trying it again.  I served it with some tasty but not particularly photogenic "Dal du Puy" with Coconut Milk (page 191 from the same book; the recipe calls for masur dal, a nice orangey lentil, but alas, we had only French green lentils in the house; they turn liquids a rather off-gray color when cooking, otherwise I might have photographed them).

This has been a week of firsts - eating Natto on Monday, making skillet bread on Tuesday, and yesterday, complete irrelavant to food, I rode a COTA bus for the first time.  People in big cities are probably laughing as they read this, but I am from farm country.  There was no such thing as public transportation.  Even when I was old enough to ride my bicycle on the road, it was a 3.5 mile jaunt to the nearest store of any sort.  I still have trouble looking both ways before I cross a street, even after years of urban living.  Like Americans who are hit by cars in Britain because they look the wrong way when crossing, I occasionally stroll into a busy street in mindless bliss.  Would you believe?  I've only been hit by a car once.  But!  I digress.

Because I like to assist newcomers and visitors to our fair city, and because Husband and I have only one car, and because I live and work on the bus line, I thought it was time I buck up and become the urbanite I've claimed to be.  People are always grousing about public transportation in Columbus, and, while it might not be the most efficient or far-reaching system in the country, the bus was on time, clean, and delivered me to my destination in about twice the time it would have taken me to drive.  During this time, I did not shout any epithets at passing drivers, nor give any salutes, nor yell at moronic talking head on the radio, nor get cut off/swerved into/shouted at, etc.  I just listened to my MP3 player and finally got around to reading The Soul of a Chef, which a friend loaned to me 2 years ago (thanks, Chef Mike!  I promise to give it back!) 

What other firsts lie in wait for the days, weeks, and months ahead?  That remains to be seen.  Let's get back to the flatbread, shall we? 

The recipe in the book is called "Cumin-flecked Skillet Breads," but we here at Chez Widow had, unfortunately, just run out of cumin, so I added a little smoked pimenton (the good stuff) and then a smattering of nigella seeds, because I had just purchased them at Patel Brothers.  I kind of hesitate to post the recipe, as I'm no flatbread expert, and it isn't really my recipe, but maybe you will make it, see how easy it is, and then go out and buy this fantastic book.  The flatbreads have a subtle heat, which you can adjust to your liking, and they are tasty fresh out of the pan with a little salt; I placed them in a warm (170 degree) oven once out of the pan, and they stayed nice and crisp whilst I got on with the curry.  The recipe is provided in the extended post . . .

Mmmm....Natto

While many of my dear readers and fellow Columbusites were glued to the TV last night, lamenting the beating their team was receiving, I was doing something for the first time.

Eating natto.

For the uninitiated, natto is a Japanese food made from fermented soybeans.  According to The Japanese Kitchen, natto was originally discovered when soy beans were discarded in straw beds.  Someone had the brilliant idea to try it a few days later and discovered the soybeans hadn't decomposed, they had turned into a foodstuff which would delight a culture and pretty much horrify everyone else.  Fans of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations might remember the episode in which Bourdain travels to Japan and finds himself incapable of eating the bowl of natto presented to him for breakfast in his hotel.

Natto has a rather distinct aroma and texture.  The texture has the exact viscosity one gets when making rice crispy treats, just when adding the crisped rice to the melted marshmallows.  This makes it rather difficult to get on one's chopsticks at first.  The aroma is reminiscent of twice-used gym socks, with a hint of ammonia thrown in for good measure.  Fortunately, the flavor is much more palatable than the aroma is appetizing.  The flavor is nutty, with a slight pungency one might get when eating the rind of a well-aged soft cheese. 

This natto, which Husband and I ordered while dining at Kihachi last night, was served with slices of tuna sashimi with a few scallions, garnished with seaweed shreds and daikon radish, along with a smear of hot Japanese mustard, the perfect foil to the rich gaminess of the natto.  If you are dying to try natto for yourself, but would rather try the experience at home where you are free to react as you wish, it can be purchased at Tensuke Japanese grocery.  Using a chopstick, stir it into sticky submission and use the sauces provided.  Serve over hot rice.

So would I eat it again?  Of course, although I confided to Husband that while the natto was not nearly as challenging as I thought it was going to be, I would prefer to be eating the shrimp paste stuffed, itty-bitty rice cracker crusted, fried shitakes we were also munching at the time.