• multigrain sourdough

    I grew up believing that if something was wholegrain then it had to be WHOLE wholegrain in order to count.

    However, now I’m a grown-ass woman and I’ve decided that if I think a hint of whole grain counts as whole wholegrain, then it does. The point of whole grains is to add texture and flavor, not kill your soul (and appetite) with sanctimonious leaden bricks.

    Maybe this means I’m a baking rebel?

    Or just white-flour shallow?

    Smart?

    coarse whole wheat that my mom got me from the bulk food store

    HAPPY???

    Who knows. In any case, this multigrain sourdough is mostly white flour BUT IT’S SOURDOUGH which is basically white flour turned holy (whole-y), and then there’s a miniscule amount of coarse whole wheat flour for texture, looks, and kicks, and a generous blob of soaker cereal mix which is what turns the bread all nubbly virtuous. 

    I gave my mom a couple loaves of this bread (bartered it, actually, since we’re forever swapping services, like sewing for haircuts, life-coaching for bread, etc, etc.) and she texted, “These are $20 loaves. Seriously.” She’s not wrong.

    hint: parchment lasts for two bakes

    When I make bread, I do it for several days running. Once the starter has fully revived (which usually takes a day of feedings), then each morning I mix up a fresh batch of bread and bake off the loaves from the preceding day. Bake days, we eat lots of fresh bread, and I often pass on a loaf to anyone who I owe a favor. And then, bellies and freezer stuffed, I call it quits . . . for a couple weeks. 

    I like to shake things up on occasion: a batch of regular bread followed by a batch of herby feta, chocolate cherry, potato, etc. But this multigrain version has shot to the top of the charts. It’s delish: chewy, nutty, billowy, tender.

    It’s wonderful eaten fresh with generous swaths of summer-yellow butter.

    It makes excellent toast, too.

    Multigrain Sourdough
    This recipe is based on my standard batch of sourdough, but with add-ins. 

    I got my whole-grain cereal mix from a local bulk food store (or my mom got it for me, rather). The bag says it contains red and white hard wheat, oats, rye, triticale, soft white wheat, barley, durham wheat, flax. Use whatever mix you can find, or make your own blend. 

    If you don’t already have a sourdough starter, check with your local bakery. Any bakery worth its salt will give you some of their discard.

    12 ounces sourdough starter
    2 pounds 2 ounces bread flour (2-3 ounces of which are coarsely-ground whole wheat)
    1 pound 2 ounces cool water
    5 teaspoons salt
    1 cup cereal blend mixed with 1 cup hot tap water.

    Day 1: Evening Prep
    Stir together the 1 cup of cereal and 1 cup of hot water. Cover and let sit at room temperature overnight. (Or if you do things last minute, the morning of you can just add boiling water and let it soak for an hour or so. Or if you’re really impatient, just cook the damn stuff already.)

    Day 2: Make
    Put the starter, flours, and water in the bowl of your kitchen aid mixer, and in that order, too. Mix on low speed for 4 minutes. Let rest for 20. Add the salt and about half of the cereal mix (the other half, save for the next day’s bake, or freeze for later). There will be excess water in the mix — add some of it, or toss it. It’ll be fine either way, but a wetter dough isn’t a bad thing, and this dough is pretty stiff and can handle some added moisture. Mix on low for another 4 minutes. 

    Dump the dough into a bowl. Do a few stretch and folds every 30 minutes for the first couple hours, then let the dough rise for 6-8 hours. 

    Cut the dough in half and shape into loaves. Put the loaves into pans, cover with plastic, and let rest overnight. I proof my loaves at 55 degrees in one of the cheese caves which works incredibly well; if proofing in a fridge, let the dough rise in the pans for an hour or so prior to refrigerating. 

    Day 3: Bake Day
    Slash the loaves — go deep! — and bake at 400 degrees for about 40 minutes, rotating part way though.

    This same time, years previous: the coronavirus diaries: week seven, that fuzzy space, the quotidian (4.24.17), taking off, Sally Fallon’s pancakes, out and about, cauliflower potato soup.

  • the quotidian (4.22.24)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Cherry cheesecake brownies.

    Don’t hold back.

    Soon ready for bottling: spiced cranberry.

    Pre-shake.

    Sunday morning bake.

    She brought me a treat!

    Eclipse.

    Solo siding.

    Spring in a cup.

    Friends on a log.

    Play hard.

    Then crash.

    This same time, years previous: creamy herbed yogurt cheese, what we ate, making pie: I have a system, the best fix, what it’s like to write full time: an experiment, creamed honey, out of character, ailments, therapy.

  • space and distance

    After living in their bus for nearly two years, my older son and daughter-in-law have moved to a rental.

    It’s an adorable little house with oodles of natural light, high ceilings, tons of open space. Well, it’s not tons tons, but after living in a bus for two years, it’s pretty darn palatial. (“Overwhelming,” was how my daughter-in-law described it.) 

    The new place is twenty, maybe twenty-five, minutes from our house, all the way on the other side of the county, but after having them live so close — every time we drove into town, we passed by their road — the new place actually feels super far away. Like, we’ll have to make it a point to go see them. Not that we actually ever really went to see them before (remember: BUS), so maybe it’s the space, not the location, that matters most in this case?

    Anyway, last Saturday we met up at the new house for a cleaning party: washing windows, scrubbing bathrooms and cupboards, airing furniture, etc.

    They live close to the river, so the move is just in time for summer: we can go hang out by the river for the afternoon and then pop over to their place for supper.

    That’s my plan anyway. 

    So over the weekend they moved far, far away, and then Tuesday morning my older daughter flew off to Ireland where she’ll be solo traveling for the next two and a half months.

    After Ireland, she’s going to Scotland and England, and maybe Amsterdam. She has one WWOOFING gig lined up, and a couple of her cousins are gonna meet up with her for a few days at some point. Another girlfriend will join her in London towards the end of June and then the two of them will come back together on the Queen Mary 2. (Apparently the Queen Mary 2 has the biggest library on the ocean; considering that both girls are insatiable bookworms, I imagine that’s where they’ll spend most of their time.) 

    She arrived safely and has been sending me photos of her pub dinners, gray skies, and rocks. She left her water bottle at the airport in Shannon, but other than that everything’s going just fine. 

    It was pretty hard to see her go — transitions always heighten my feelings of sadness, loss, and anxiety — but now, even though the tracking app on her phone tells us that she’s 3365 miles away, I’m one cool cat. Everything’s up to her now, not me. Live it up, kiddo!

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (4.17.23), sunshine cakes, the coronavirus diaries: week six, both ends, it takes a village, in the night air, with an audience, cheesy popcorn.