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October 30, 2005
Bringing Home the Baking
I just made another loaf of banana bread (I'm going to try the pumpkin bread recipe next) and realized that, for the first time ever, I have a kitchen that lends itself to baking. I have counter space! Lots and lots of counter space. I could make Christmas cookies. I could have a party devoted to making Christmas cookies. I could make BREAD. I have enough counter space to roll out dough. This calls for some serious experimenting. I could probably even fit a cooling rack somewhere (that thing recipes always mention and I always ignore), or a pasta machine! Hand-made ravioli might be worth a try. Maybe. I've been so used to a tiny little kitchen that I haven't been using this new kitchen to its full potential. I should probably investigate baking holiday gifts this year. Not that I need the stress, but hey -- it's probably cheaper that way. My mother has been making spiced walnuts for years, and lately has courageously branched out into peppermint chocolate bark (it came out great, but I think it involved Dad chopping up candy canes for hours on end).
Since I have been in love with food since I was born, I had my first baking phase somewhere around age 10 (my parents have a huge old kitchen that lends itself to baking and cooking phases). First, I had the epiphany that cookie dough was much better than actual cookies. It was so disappointing when all that good batter went into the oven, never to be tasted in its most elegant form again. (I still feel this way, especially with brownie batter. I always spend time eating the batter before I cook it. Banana bread batter is really good, too. I had a good quarter cup of it this evening -- there's a fine balance you have to strike to get that much. I'm no so much of a glutton that I'll pour some out for myself, but I leave a liberal amount on the spoon and in the bowl, spill some on the rim of the cooking pan, etc.) Anyway, one day after school I decided that I could make a batch of batter to have all to myself. I mixed together a bunch of ingredients that I remembered being in cake and cookie batters -- eggs, flour, vanilla, sugar, possibly some flour. I made a huge mess in the kitchen. It didn't taste quite as good as the other batters, though (the proportions were woefully off, I'm sure). I was a little disappointed, but I put it in the fridge, thinking it would be good enough for a snack. After a day or so, it became increasingly unappetizing. It was disgusting. It looked like bright yellow soup. When my mother asked if I wanted to keep it about a week later (with hardly a smile on her face -- or at least not one that I noticed), I said no. This was long before cookie dough ice cream, so I was definitely on to something, but I reluctantly stuck to the snickerdoodles recipe in my kids cookbook from then on, snacking on batter along the way.
My next baking phase (although you can't really call the batter phase a baking phase) involved bread. I found a recipe and followed it to the T. I kneaded the dough. I covered it and let it rest. I kneaded it again and let it rise in the oven next to a pan of hot water. It sort of rose, a little. I kneaded it again. I put it in the oven. I checked on it later, and it had a gorgeous brown crust and looked perfect. I was so excited that I gathered the entire family in the dining room for a tasting. I set out of spread of butter and jam and plates. Then, mom sliced it open. Despite the perfect exterior, it was still dough on the inside. Given my previous experiments it probably didn't surprise the family too much, but I think I remember some grumbling about being hungry from Dad and Nick. I kept at it, though, and ended up making a few (well, maybe two?) loaves of bread that were perfectly edible. That first attempt haunts me, though -- I'm always amazed when I hear that someone has made bread at home (and without a bread machine!). The Food Network makes it seem so easy. Hopefully being an adult this time around will help.
Speaking of food, I wish someone would figure out what caused all of New York City to smell like maple syrup. I mean, it was pleasant and all -- I thought some restaurant nearby might have been having a pancake festival or something -- but hello??? Can someone explain it, please? Did an experiment go horribly wrong at the Ministry of Magic? Or maybe Cooper Union? Was there an accident involving a barge full of maple syrup? Was it a marketing campaign for aromatherapy?
Posted by csageday at October 30, 2005 11:28 PM