Baking Bread

This past weekend Mark and I made a couple loaves of bread. While I was sitting in a corner rocking back and forth wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life after the Bakery shut down, he was reading the book 52 Loaves by William Alexander.  He'd been pestering me playfully for a week, saying he wanted to bake a loaf of bread. Finally, on Saturday, after several trips to the store for different kinds of flour, I put a packet of yeast into a cup of warm water and we made some bread.

I followed the recipe on the back of the bag of flour.  Bob's Red Mill Honey Whole Wheat.  I don't have a mixer so we took turns kneading the dough with our hands.  I snapped at him - "You're doing it wrong." Nobody I ever tried to teach to make bread ever accused me of being a good teacher - my failings there still sting.  But he is gentle, and patient, and reminded me that this was supposed to be fun. I showed him again how to fold the lump of dough, press it with the heel of hand, turn a quarter turn, fold and press and turn again and on and on. I felt myself falling into the familiar trance, the physical rhythm lighting up some part of my brain that had gone dark the day I read on Facebook that my Bakery was closed.  I could feel it in my arms - the strength was still there.

The sky was dark with thunderstorms when we started,  I had no idea what time it was.  The bread didn't go into the oven till almost nine pm.  That was ok because I've kinda gotten accustomed to staying up later during the last couple of weeks.  He scratched our initials into the round loaf with a not quite sharp knife.  It didn't come out perfect, of course.  But it made my house smell good, and it tasted pretty good. The crust was weak because I don't have terra cotta tiles or a steam injector. There was a yeasty flavor that the Bakery's artisan loaves loose during their long proofing process.  The crumb was too tight, because kneading it by hand forced me to use more flour, throwing off the hydration.  I explained these imperfections to him, told him what we would do the next time we tried this recipe, how we could make it better. He made it into toast and smeared butter on it with a fork.  I ate it like a prayer, the lynchpin in a magic spell that I've been hanging for the last 13 years of my life. I'm an Artisan Baker, and I am going to keep on baking bread.


Danny, Tyler and I had been mumbling grumpily to ourselves for months, maybe years, about how great the Bakery could be if only... things could be different.  People have asked us "What happened to New Day?" and you know, I can't tell that story.  Life is hard. Shit Happens.  There is a sign on the front door of the shop that you can go and read just like I did.  It sucks.

We decided to become business partners, the three of us, so we could keep doing what we love.    With a lot of help from our friends, we are going to reopen soon as Phoenix Bakery.  Danny set up a GoFundMe page, and already we have enough money to buy our Quickbooks system.  That is the biggest, scariest part of this for me.  I am confident that we can make great products - we have been doing that for years.  I am confident that our customers will buy them.  This software promises to help us take care of the rest of the stuff.  We couldn't have even considered this without the help, advice and friendship of the team that built The Daily Kneads in the first place. So we are going to do this, and it is going to be an amazing adventure!

In the meantime, I am gearing up to move back to Edgehill House.  That's a whole other poignant story. This summer is going to be one of labor and sweat, and it's going to be great.

Pancake Recipe

Breakfast this cold and dreary Sunday morning was PANCAKES.   I started thinking of them before I even got out of bed.

The kitchen was tidy enough to cook in this morning, thanks to Mark who washes my dishes.  Last night we went to the MAC to see a show.  "Same Time Next Year" was a pleasant enough diversion but I have to say I didn't think the performance was very good.  The second act was better than the first, but I didn't think it was very romantic at all.  Romance for me, this week, is a man who takes you out to see a delightfully awful play and then washes the dishes that the kids left in the sink.

Back to Pancakes, though.  I suggest mixing them in Fiestaware, but any bowl will do as long as you love the way it feels in your hands.  Into the Beloved Bowl, put:

• One cup of Flour.  Mine is currently a mixture of whole wheat pastry flour and white whole wheat, but all purpose would work just as well, I think.
• 2 teaspoons Baking Powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• One packet of instant oatmeal of your choice. Or you could use 1.5 ounces of plain old oats, or Bob's red Mill hot cereal, or CoCoWheats if you are into those kinds of things.

Whisk these gently together, cradling the bowl in your arms like a baby, or maybe just stare intently down into it.  Add a few teaspoons of cinnamon here, or cardamom, or ginger... Or don't add anything and let your choice of hot cereal influence the final flavor.  These will not be very sweet.  If you like your pancakes sweet by all means add some sugar here but I prefer not to.

Now, into a measuring pitcher (or a bowl with a spout, or a regular old bowl even) combine:

• One cup Milk
• One Egg
• 4 ounces of Applesauce (one individual serving size plastic cup's worth)

Whisk these together, then pour into the dry ingredients and stir just till combined.
Cook on a medium hot griddle or frying pan till done.
Enjoy with sliced fruit, Maple Syrup, by themselves,

Later, I made a sandwich out of the last two cold pancakes and the last of my Camembert cheese.  Might have been better than the strawberries and Maple Syrup.