Country Ham and Cheddar Tartine with French Hot Chocolate.

I bet you thought baguettes were only good the day you bought them, all hot and crusty. Mais non! I made baguettes over the weekend, today is Fat Tuesday, and I've got some leftover French bread that's still pretty nice because I bagged the extra and stored it in the fridge.

A tartine is simply the French version of an open-face sandwich. Last week, on an orange and chocolate tear, I made one with brioche, orange jam and Nutella. It was mighty good.

For my savory tartine, the process was much the same.

Except the ingredients were:
baguette
1 red onion, caramelized
1 thin slice of country ham
a good quality cheddar
honey mustard

Caramelized onions are a good thing to keep around - they're easy and add a lot of flavor. Cut one medium red onion into rings and sautee in a tablespoon of olive oil or half oil and half butter. Throw in some ground black pepper, sage and a bit of salt and stir while they go translucent over medium heat. Let them go another 15 minutes and you've got a sweet, savory sandwich or meat accompaniment.

My leftover baguette was big, so I only used half, slicing it longways and using only the bottom half of that. I toasted the crusty side first, for crispness, then buttered the bready top half and broiled that just a bit.

While the baguette was toasting, I cooked the country ham with a bit of water in my sautee pan. When the baguette half was toasted, I plated it and applied one of my secret pleasures.

I know. I know. Don't judge. Look at those happy honeybees on the label!

Next, the caramelized onions, country ham and several slices of serious cheddar (today it was Boar's Head). I slid this back under the broiler to melt the cheese into the ham and generally warm everything back up. Et voila - salty, savory, tangy and sweet!

Now the only thing missing was something decadent to wash it down. Enter my friend Carol and her amazing French Chocolate recipe. I refer you to her witty and delicious blog --
Cambria Cooks at http://www.calindstrom.com/cambriacooks/2010/08/05/beverage-french-chocolate/, but the recipe goes like this:

Ingredients:
2 1/2 squares Baker’s unsweetened chocolate, cut in pieces
1/2 cup water
3/4 cup sugar
Dash of salt
1/2 cup cream, whipped
6 cups of hot milk
Directions:
Combine water and chocolate and cook over low flame until smooth, stirring constantly for about four minutes. Add sugar and salt; continue to cook stirring until thick for about four minutes longer. Cool. Whip cream. Fold chocolate mixture into cream.

(Try to keep from licking the bowl until after you're done.)
Put two heaping tablespoons of mixture in a mug. For a bit of flare, add a peppermint stick as a stirrer. Chocolate mix can be doubled or tripled easily for larger gatherings. The chocolate mix can also be made the day before and stored in the refrigerator for use, in a covered container.

Thanks, Carol!

This is the creamiest, most decadent hot chocolate I've ever had and really, not much trouble to prepare when you consider how many servings it yields.

Now, if you'll excuse me, with dinner and chocolate out of the way, I've got a date with Dennis Quaid.

Mardi Gras and muffalettas. A guest post by somebody who might be related to me.

If you're a mom, sometimes you might pretend that there are certain things your offspring would never do. Here is one:

That's my son on the right.

Here is another:

Oh, I could go on.

But that'd just keep me awake all night. Instead, I'll let guest baker, Tyler Speaks, tell you about himself and his amazing muffaletta.

Guest Muff’n

Hello internets. Hello Mom and Leo.

Let me preface with a bit about myself.  I envisioned myself at age 24 with a fancy degree, 5,000+ skydives and a steady flock of babes.  One of those wishes has come true.  Anyways, a steady grasp of travel and cuisine in America is never something I thought I would be an expert on, but for the first time in my life I am ready to share some knowledge with them internets.

Truthfully, I never really cared for New Orleans.  I like jazz, but not when homeless people blast it in my grill.  I like culture and beignets, but not underwater.  I like interfacing with the local populace, but not at knifepoint.   Also, my roommate is a Saints fan.  He loves to let you know it.  I brought two things back from New Orleans: MRSA and a love of Cajun cuisine.  I will share ONE of these things with you now.

I don’t really even get why this is a Cajun dish, it seems more Italian or something fruity to me.  It is, however, one of the few things that brings me joy in this bleak world and is as much fun to make as it is to consume.

I’ve tried a few recipes from different spots on this muffaletta (hereon referred to as “muff”) and my favorite is one I got from my drunken Saints-obsessed roommate.  I think he got it from The Central Grocery or something like that in the French Quarter.  Anyshways, it’s pretty straightforward: Get a loaf. Get some meat and cheese.  Make an olive salad.  Combine.  More info you ask? Here we are:

Olive Salad:

2/3 cup green olives, coarsely chopped

2/3 cup black olive, coarsely chopped

1/4 cup chopped pimientos

3 cloves garlic, finely minced

1 Tbsp. capers

1 metric ton of chopped parsley

1 tsp oregano

1/4 tsp black pepper

1/2 cup olive oil

Mix all those ingredients together and cover.  Marinate in fridge.

Muff:

1 lg round loaf bread (Italian or whatever)

1/3 lb thin sliced salami

1/3 lb thin sliced ham

1/3 lb thin sliced provolone cheese

olive salad

Once the olive salad is mixed together you let it marinate in the fridge for at least a few hours.  Probably no more than 24 hours or it gets greazy.  Also, put this stuff in a mason jar if you don’t want your fridge to smell like the entire country of Greece condensed into a mixing bowl. 

Ah, the bread.  This is my favorite because I really enjoy baking.  It really tickles the chemist in me and is a good substitute when the labs are closed (or class gets skipped).  Basically, you can buy any big ole round loaf you want, but if you really wanna make an impression on the babes/dudes then make your own bread.  Personally, I prefer a nice olive sourdough.  Get the bread however you want.

Tyler's sourdough w/o olives

So, your bread is fresh out the oven and olive salad has been stewing overnight.   To prepare the bread, slice the top of the round loaf about an inch or so and remove it, like a hat.  Cut a circle and hollow out the inside, leaving a sturdy wall on the sides and the bottom.  This is hard for me to describe for some reason, just Google it or something.  Once bread victory has been achieved, brush a thin layer of olive oil on the inside bottom of the hollow loaf.  Next grab some meats and layer them.  Add the cheese at the top and cover the whole shebang with a thick spread of olive salad.  Everything should pretty much be bursting out the top of the loaf.  Put the top of the bread back on and cut in half and serve.  If you like it hot (some like it hot), then shove it in a 400 degree oven for a few minutes.  The original recipe says to serve this dish with root beer to be authentic.  I say serve with actual beer.  A heavy one.

Hope you enjoy preparing and serving this as much as I do.  It has been a pleasure guest-writing here and maybe I can do it again soon.  Maybe a report on the fabulous dishes of Afghanistan next.  Probably not. 

P.S.: I am single, moderately attractive (most would say 7) and am pretty good at various skills.  Also, well read.  And I travel.  Cheers everyone!!

Ciabatta amore. Finally.

There's something about rising at 4:00 a.m. and making your way down dimly lit streets to start baking bread before anybody else has even thought of getting up and going to work. There's also a rhythm to bakery life - the groan of rotating ovens coming to life, the metallic clank of measuring cups against mixing bowls and the slow, eventual filling of the air with the best aromas known to humankind - yeast and coffee.

There's also the occasional Frenchman who drops by to instruct you on the perfect baguette:

I loved every aspect of bread and cake baking, every ingredient, every recipe. Except one. Okay, maybe two, counting the dreaded holiday tea ring, but don't look for that recipe here. Because of its wet, sloppy, impossible-to-form dough, I did not love ciabatta. It was the only bread that had to be poured out of its rising bucket "into a rectangle" that could then be cut into 16 similarly sized loaves. Right. Who can't pour a perfect rectangle of gooey dough?

Now that I bake mostly for myself, my friends and family, and the occasional client, I've learned to love ciabatta. This love did not come easily. It came after months of my parents' insistence that Kroger ciabatta was their favorite bread. It made the best toast, they exclaimed. Toast? How can you make toast with a 1-1/2 inch tall slice of bread? Much less, a sandwich. Initially, their comments just fueled my dislike. Until one day, when they pushed a buttery, crunchy piece of toasted ciabatta into the hand that wasn't holding my coffee and I gave it a try. Like an English muffin, there seemed to be flavor (and by that, I mean melted butter) in all the holes, but with a decidedly Italian essence that comes from baking with olive oil. So began my search for a ciabatta recipe I could work with - not prohibitively gooey, with that great Mediterranean flavor, that baked up crunchy and airy. After much trial and error with flavor and texture, the one below, from Gourmet magazine's March 1998 issue, is dependable and immediately replaced my parents' store-bought product. Start this bread 18 to 24 hours before you want it to come out of the oven. The sponge stands 12 to 24 hours. The first rise of the dough in the bowl will take about 2 hours and the second rise of the shaped bread, maybe 1-1/2 hours. Bake time is 25 to 30 minutes.

CIABATTA RECIPE
For the sponge:
1/4 tsp. yeast
1 C. room-temperature water (add more if it's stiff - flour and weather can affect this)
2 C. bread flour (if all you have is all-purpose, use it)

I mix this part in a piece of crockery that came with a lid, from Big Lots for $3. It lets the sponge breathe without drying out and has just enough room for the rise. Let rise for 12 to 24 hours, depending on your schedule - 12 is enough but 24 won't hurt it. The yeast does not need warm water to activate - the long, slow fermentation process is what gives the bread its wonderful airy texture.

For the bread:
1 tsp. yeast
4 T. warm milk (105-115 F)
1-1/3 C. room-temperature water (see below for adjustments)
2 T. olive oil
4 C. bread flour (again, I've used all-purpose when I had to)
1 T. salt

When the sponge is ready, place it with remaining ingredients in moderately powerful stand mixer with dough hook. (Or put it on a floured surface and dig in, but do not scoff at my Kitchenaid - we'll see what your rotator cuff has to say in 10 years.) Knead for at least 7 minutes to develop the gluten, and up to 10 minutes to incorporate all ingredients into a smooth, sticky dough. As you can see, this dough does not ever cling entirely to the hook. If it does, it's too stiff. It's important that any needed additional water be added early on, before any hard balls of dry or oily dough can form. If this happens, just crank the mixer up to the third or fourth power setting and let it go. When you see ciabatta start flinging dough from the hook to the sides and don't see any lumps, it's happy again.

As with the sponge, the secret to ciabatta's chewy texture is in the gas bubbles that form with a slow rise - allow at least 2 hours. On this day, my house was not overly warm so I left the dough for 4 hours.

It will be gooier than when it went in to rise, so LIBERALLY flour your counter or cutting board surface. This is not a bread to make in a square foot of workspace. It likes to spread and it likes to stick. So again, LIBERALLY flour that surface. If you greased the bowl plenty, you'll still have to help the dough out into its approximation of a rectangle. This recipe makes 2 loaves, so once it's on the counter, use floured fingers to push the sides into shape. Sprinkle the top with flour to further form the dough. A bench scraper comes in very handy here, as well. Use it to push the sides of the dough, but most importantly, it's great to then cut the rectangle roughly in half.

Again, with floured hands, lift each loaf, sliding fingers underneath the ends to gently pry up and over to the parchment-lined baking sheet. I have stones on one rack of my oven and therefore place my loaves on parchment paper on the back of the baking sheet and when risen, slide them onto the hot baking stones for an even crisper crust. If you're brave or bored, feel free to try this, but make it the easy way at first so you can learn the other aspects without stress.

This is a "hearth bread" and therefore likes a hot oven. Preheat to 425 and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, letting the crust get nice and brown and caramelized. Having no resistance, I always cut into one loaf immediately.

Later, when your loaves are nice and cooled and easily sliced, again with a sharp, serrated bread knife, use them for extra-special toast (2 slices per slot, it turns out), or bruschetta, or any kind of sandwich that supports a crusty full-bodied bread. I like mine with braised kale and Asiago cheese, under the broiler for a minute.

Oh, did I mention that ciabatta makes excellent croutons? Toss with melted butter, salt, pepper and garlic powder and broil to crispy goodness, then throw some on your next bowl of soup.

Another personal favorite and late-night guilty pleasure, inspired by Giada De Laurentiis, is Nutella between 2 slices of ciabatta and grilled in the pan with a touch of olive oil. A slightly more substantial version is brie and dark chocolate on ciabatta, either grilled or pressed into a panini. It's sweet and savory and buttery and, well, what are you waiting for?

Welcome!

It's officially autumn in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. My 52nd autumn, to be exact, and except for one year lived in another hemisphere, all my experiences are recorded within their blue-green frame. Weddings, births, funerals, wars, a bit of travel here and there, all carrying that familiar essence -- the seasoning of love and loss, of lack and abundance, in equal measure. But always in the background, holding things together even when life fell apart, were those great blue hills. Tirelessly keeping watch as we planted our gardens and canned our harvest, cut Christmas trees and boiled apple butter, sometimes with a big old harvest moon for company. This week, they are poised to burst into every shade of flaming red and gold because the nights are cooler and the days shorter, and so, naturally, my thoughts turn to the kitchen.

Of Scots and German blood, it seems my family has always known how to live off the land and settling in Appalachia back in the 1800s must have felt just right. I have cousins who still farm part of the original land grant and my Grandpa Bell was said to have made moonshine so fine, there was no need of a chaser. Mostly I remember that he kept a bag of Circus Peanuts in a metal breadbox on the kitchen counter and while he still lived, I was just tall enough to reach unseeing into that bag I secretly knew he wanted me to find.

I cannot claim his reputed skills, but having spent some years as a baker and a stint as a personal chef, and being the descendant of such folks, I have found my niche, albeit in a different branch of fermenting. I recently had the pleasure of attending a family reunion, visiting with my mother's remaining two sisters (she's the baby) and their various offspring. My contribution was these hearty whole-grain dinner rolls, tweaked from an ancient recipe by the addition of wheat berries and 7-grain cereal. Let me know what you think.

Ingredients:
2-1/2 C bread flour (we're aiming for a total of roughly 6 to 6-1/2 cups flour/grains)
2-1/2 C wheat flour
1 C 7-grain cereal
1/2 C wheat berries (if you're not enamored of boiling "wheat kernels" or simply like a smoother dough, omit and substitute cereal/flour, again depending on desired consistency)
1/4 C vegetable oil
1/3 C honey
1 T salt
4 t yeast
Roughly 2 C warm water

Combine all ingredients (hopefully in your powerful Kitchenaid stand mixer if you're like me and the novelty of hand-kneading has worn off) and when well integrated, knead 7 minutes minimum, adjusting just a bit on the hydration, if necessary, until you get a smooth dough. You know the drill - place in a greased bowl, flip so the whole thing is oiled, cover and go find something else to do for up to 2 hours, or until it's doubled (unless it's summertime, I leave mine in the oven with the light on, and ditto once they're shaped, until you're ready to preheat). I also have some very inexpensive plastic bowls with lids that I routinely use for bread-rising - saves on plastic wrap and dish towels - though sourdough will blow off the top and scare the cat/dog.

When ready, fold the dough onto your floured counter top. At this point, you can simply divide in half, roll up and place in 2 greased loaf pans. If you want the dinner rolls, however, the easiest way to divide is into 2 halves. Then split each half, by turn, again. Roll these lumps gently/loosely into a rope and cut into 6 fairly even pieces (for a total of 2 dozen rolls). Alternatively, you can weigh the dough and divide/weigh accordingly. Use whatever technique you like to make them round and don't worry - they'll rise together and become pretty uniform on their own. I like the tucking-under method that just stretches the top of each piece smooth. Some like to roll them, Miyagi-style, using the counter top for friction, or make a "mushroom" by squeezing between thumb and forefinger. Place side-by-side on a greased baking sheet - mine is about 11 x 15 - and let rise until the sides are just about touching. Time varies but allowing an hour should do the job. For prettiness, just before baking you can egg-wash them and sprinkle some of the 7-grain on top. Preheat oven to 350 and when risen, bake 20 to 25 minutes or until brown on top.