Sourdough Challah {Recipe}

What is there to write about the best bread ever? The sourdough challah that Alex spent a year perfecting? The recipe we're baking for the third time this week today?

Alex's sourdough challah tastes mildly tangy, sweet, and rich. The texture is dense but smooth. We eat it plain, with butter, covered in honey (Lil's favorite), or as a base for sandwiches.

This challah is enriched with two things we have in abundance - eggs and sourdough. Both contribute to the luxurious flavor and enhance the nutritive content beyond  standard sandwich bread. This is a good thing for Lil and I who work and play outside for hours a day and want quick snacks frequently.

A great bread like this takes effort, however. Our sourdough pet requires thrice weekly feeding. And the overnight rise takes time too. We use a kitchen scale to weigh the ingredients which initially seems complicated but will change your baking for the better as it eliminates variations due to moisture. Alex typically weighs and kneads the dough before bed, braids in the morning, and I bake sometime around noon. Don't be afraid of the process though - the routine doesn't feel like much work when the reward is so abundant.

Sourdough Challah

Time: 15 minutes mixing, overnight rise, two hours rising and baking next day Makes one large loaf

6 grams/0.2 ounce instant dry yeast 400 grams/16.8 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour 100 grams/4.2 ounces whole wheat flour 60 grams/2 ounces warm water 90 grams wet sourdough starter* 3 large eggs, plus 1 yolk for glazing 8 grams/0.3 ounce table salt 55 grams/1.9 ounces vegetable oil 85 grams/3 ounces mild honey or 70 grams/2.4 ounces granulated sugar approximately 10 grams poppy seed, optional

1. Measure ingredients except egg yolk and optional poppy seeds into a bread machine, stand mixer, or large bowl. 2. Mix until they come together. 3. Knead until dough is smooth and elastic, about ten minutes. 4. Let rise in an oiled and covered bowl overnight in cool place. 5. Divide dough into thirds and roll into 18 inch long ropes. Braid ropes and place on a silpat-lined baking sheet. 6. Beat egg yolk in a small bowl. Brush yolk on the top of the loaf to glaze it. Sprinkle on optional seeds. 7. Bake at 325 F for 20-30 minutes or until top is browned and bottom sounds hollow when tapped. Tent with foil if you desire a lighter colored crust.

*Sourdough starter is a topic that deserves its own post, but for here's the pertinent info for this recipe: We keep our white flour starter fairly liquid-y, about the consistency of cultured buttermilk. Local folks, we share our starter freely so contact me or see me at the Swainway Urban Farm booth at a farmers' market if you want some.

Sourdough Challah {Recipe}

What is there to write about the best bread ever? The sourdough challah that Alex spent a year perfecting? The recipe we're baking for the third time this week today?

Alex's sourdough challah tastes mildly tangy, sweet, and rich. The texture is dense but smooth. We eat it plain, with butter, covered in honey (Lil's favorite), or as a base for sandwiches.

This challah is enriched with two things we have in abundance - eggs and sourdough. Both contribute to the luxurious flavor and enhance the nutritive content beyond  standard sandwich bread. This is a good thing for Lil and I who work and play outside for hours a day and want quick snacks frequently.

A great bread like this takes effort, however. Our sourdough pet requires thrice weekly feeding. And the overnight rise takes time too. We use a kitchen scale to weigh the ingredients which initially seems complicated but will change your baking for the better as it eliminates variations due to moisture. Alex typically weighs and kneads the dough before bed, braids in the morning, and I bake sometime around noon. Don't be afraid of the process though - the routine doesn't feel like much work when the reward is so abundant.

Sourdough Challah

Time: 15 minutes mixing, overnight rise, two hours rising and baking next day Makes one large loaf

6 grams/0.2 ounce instant dry yeast 400 grams/16.8 ounces unbleached all-purpose flour 100 grams/4.2 ounces whole wheat flour 60 grams/2 ounces warm water 90 grams wet sourdough starter* 3 large eggs, plus 1 yolk for glazing 8 grams/0.3 ounce table salt 55 grams/1.9 ounces vegetable oil 85 grams/3 ounces mild honey or 70 grams/2.4 ounces granulated sugar approximately 10 grams poppy seed, optional

1. Measure ingredients except egg yolk and optional poppy seeds into a bread machine, stand mixer, or large bowl. 2. Mix until they come together. 3. Knead until dough is smooth and elastic, about ten minutes. 4. Let rise in an oiled and covered bowl overnight in cool place. 5. Divide dough into thirds and roll into 18 inch long ropes. Braid ropes and place on a silpat-lined baking sheet. 6. Beat egg yolk in a small bowl. Brush yolk on the top of the loaf to glaze it. Sprinkle on optional seeds. 7. Bake at 325 F for 20-30 minutes or until top is browned and bottom sounds hollow when tapped. Tent with foil if you desire a lighter colored crust.

*Sourdough starter is a topic that deserves its own post, but for here's the pertinent info for this recipe: We keep our white flour starter fairly liquid-y, about the consistency of cultured buttermilk. Local folks, we share our starter freely so contact me or see me at the Swainway Urban Farm booth at a farmers' market if you want some.

Buckwheat Almond Buttermilk Pancakes {Recipe}

I have a problem with pancakes. It seems to run in the family because my father has the same issue. We can't eat a stack with syrup without a dramatic drop in blood sugar that makes our tummies feel sick and our heads spin.

But like every good child, Lil loves pancakes. Alex likes them too - as long as they are light and fluffy.

I've tried adding ricotta or pumpkin and using whole wheat flour, but pancakes always got the best of me. Until last Saturday when I created a buckwheat pancake recipe.

I combined samples of Shagbark Mill's local, organic, freshly milled buckwheat flour with Bob's Red Mill new almond flour as a base with buttermilk, melted butter, and eggs. The resulting buckwheat almond buttermilk pancakes are light and airy with an earthy, slightly soured taste. Fat + higher fiber and protein flours = a breakfast I can enjoy! Alex liked the fluffiness and Lil approved of the flavor.

As a bonus, this recipe can be naturally gluten-free if you use flours that aren't processed on shared equipment.

Buckwheat Almond Buttermilk Pancakes Makes: 24 3-inch pancakes Time: 20-30 minutes

1 1/2 cup freshly ground buckwheat flour 1/2 cup almond flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 cup unsalted butter 1 1/2 cup cultured low-fat buttermilk (you may need to add 1/4 cup additional buttermilk if not using freshly ground buckwheat flour) 2 eggs Fat or oil for frying (I used lard)

1. In a large bowl, mix together flours, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. 2. Melt butter in a glass liquid measure in the microwave or small pot on the stove top. Stir buttermilk and eggs into the butter. 3. Pour wet ingredients into dry, stirring just until combined. 4. Heat a cast iron pan or griddle on the stove over medium. Melt fat or oil over the surface and drop batter by 1/4 cup fulls. Cook for 1-2 minutes, flip once, and cook an additional 1-2 minutes.  Serve immediately.

Thanks to Bob's Red Mill for providing samples of their new line of nut meals and flours.

Buckwheat Almond Buttermilk Pancakes {Recipe}

I have a problem with pancakes. It seems to run in the family because my father has the same issue. We can't eat a stack with syrup without a dramatic drop in blood sugar that makes our tummies feel sick and our heads spin.

But like every good child, Lil loves pancakes. Alex likes them too - as long as they are light and fluffy.

I've tried adding ricotta or pumpkin and using whole wheat flour, but pancakes always got the best of me. Until last Saturday when I created a buckwheat pancake recipe.

I combined samples of Shagbark Mill's local, organic, freshly milled buckwheat flour with Bob's Red Mill new almond flour as a base with buttermilk, melted butter, and eggs. The resulting buckwheat almond buttermilk pancakes are light and airy with an earthy, slightly soured taste. Fat + higher fiber and protein flours = a breakfast I can enjoy! Alex liked the fluffiness and Lil approved of the flavor.

As a bonus, this recipe can be naturally gluten-free if you use flours that aren't processed on shared equipment.

Buckwheat Almond Buttermilk Pancakes Makes: 24 3-inch pancakes Time: 20-30 minutes

1 1/2 cup freshly ground buckwheat flour 1/2 cup almond flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 cup unsalted butter 1 1/2 cup cultured low-fat buttermilk (you may need to add 1/4 cup additional buttermilk if not using freshly ground buckwheat flour) 2 eggs Fat or oil for frying (I used lard)

1. In a large bowl, mix together flours, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. 2. Melt butter in a glass liquid measure in the microwave or small pot on the stove top. Stir buttermilk and eggs into the butter. 3. Pour wet ingredients into dry, stirring just until combined. 4. Heat a cast iron pan or griddle on the stove over medium. Melt fat or oil over the surface and drop batter by 1/4 cup fulls. Cook for 1-2 minutes, flip once, and cook an additional 1-2 minutes.  Serve immediately.

Thanks to Bob's Red Mill for providing samples of their new line of nut meals and flours.

Tackling the Oddest Cut & Making Head Cheese

In all our charcuterie practice, there's one part of the pig that we've never fully explored. We finally faced the meat and it returned a couple pounds of tender succulent pulled pieces, 7 quarts of stock, and one specimen for anatomy study. What was it?

The head.

When we contracted with a butcher to eviscerate and skin our last pig from Six Bucket's Farm, it arrived head on. "What will we do with that?" we wondered as we dutifully packaged it for the freezer. Our next pig is growing large and almost due to head to the butcher as well, so we're clearing out the freezer. The head demanded our attention.

Making Head Cheese

Alex started the cooking by simmering the head and a ham hock in a large pot of water with onions and garlic overnight in a low stove. (This is the way we make all stock now, by the way.) Next, he picked the meat off the bones, reserving the liquid stock. Lil loved these meat pickings, eating two meals of pork chunks alone.

To make the terrine, Alex combined the meat with spices and a bit of stock. He compressed this mixture in a mold overnight. Find a full recipe in Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing, though Alex adapted for the winter season by using stronger clove and allspice seasonings.

"Why does this have to be called head cheese?" I moaned to Alex. It's a seriously delicious potted meat with a name that turns so many people away. The 'cheese' part is a complete misnomer because it's not made of milk or cured with lactofermentation or melty or anything like cheese. Pork terrine is a generic but adequate descriptor. Charcuterie friends also suggested pig parts terrine, souse, or braun.

We're fortunate to have culinarily curious friends who were able to get over the name and try our head cheese. Served on homemade baguette with sour cherry spread, they loved it.

Using Every Last Bit

Later, I reheated the strained stock, sanitized jars, and pressure canned it. Our selection of nourishing stock makes warm meals simple - open a jar, add veggies, meat, noodles, and/or dumplings, and soup is served.

Finally, we needed to dispense of the large skull and jaw bone. The chickens would love cleaning the bones, but instead we delivered them to Alex's mom, a teacher at the School for Young Children, a play-based preschool. She sanitized the bones and added them to the SYC nature table. Lil demands that the next skull can't be given away because she wants it for herself to study.

Meat is Meat is Meat

In processing the pig's head for edible meat, we concluded again that there are no 'good cuts' and 'odd cuts'. It's all just meat.

Some choose not to consume animal flesh, and that's OK. But for those of us who do, what's the difference between eating an animal's thigh versus the cheek? Flesh and fat can be enjoyed from any part of the animal. Bacon, the revered 'makes everything tastier' meat, is from a belly that wallows in mud, if the animal lives a good life.

If you're eating meat at all, you owe it to the creature to use every part. Now we know that the head isn't just an odd cut to be conquered, but one full of succulent meals.

Have you made or eaten head cheese? 

Tackling the Oddest Cut & Making Head Cheese

In all our charcuterie practice, there's one part of the pig that we've never fully explored. We finally faced the meat and it returned a couple pounds of tender succulent pulled pieces, 7 quarts of stock, and one specimen for anatomy study. What was it?

The head.

When we contracted with a butcher to eviscerate and skin our last pig from Six Bucket's Farm, it arrived head on. "What will we do with that?" we wondered as we dutifully packaged it for the freezer. Our next pig is growing large and almost due to head to the butcher as well, so we're clearing out the freezer. The head demanded our attention.

Making Head Cheese

Alex started the cooking by simmering the head and a ham hock in a large pot of water with onions and garlic overnight in a low stove. (This is the way we make all stock now, by the way.) Next, he picked the meat off the bones, reserving the liquid stock. Lil loved these meat pickings, eating two meals of pork chunks alone.

To make the terrine, Alex combined the meat with spices and a bit of stock. He compressed this mixture in a mold overnight. Find a full recipe in Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing, though Alex adapted for the winter season by using stronger clove and allspice seasonings.

"Why does this have to be called head cheese?" I moaned to Alex. It's a seriously delicious potted meat with a name that turns so many people away. The 'cheese' part is a complete misnomer because it's not made of milk or cured with lactofermentation or melty or anything like cheese. Pork terrine is a generic but adequate descriptor. Charcuterie friends also suggested pig parts terrine, souse, or braun.

We're fortunate to have culinarily curious friends who were able to get over the name and try our head cheese. Served on homemade baguette with sour cherry spread, they loved it.

Using Every Last Bit

Later, I reheated the strained stock, sanitized jars, and pressure canned it. Our selection of nourishing stock makes warm meals simple - open a jar, add veggies, meat, noodles, and/or dumplings, and soup is served.

Finally, we needed to dispense of the large skull and jaw bone. The chickens would love cleaning the bones, but instead we delivered them to Alex's mom, a teacher at the School for Young Children, a play-based preschool. She sanitized the bones and added them to the SYC nature table. Lil demands that the next skull can't be given away because she wants it for herself to study.

Meat is Meat is Meat

In processing the pig's head for edible meat, we concluded again that there are no 'good cuts' and 'odd cuts'. It's all just meat.

Some choose not to consume animal flesh, and that's OK. But for those of us who do, what's the difference between eating an animal's thigh versus the cheek? Flesh and fat can be enjoyed from any part of the animal. Bacon, the revered 'makes everything tastier' meat, is from a belly that wallows in mud, if the animal lives a good life.

If you're eating meat at all, you owe it to the creature to use every part. Now we know that the head isn't just an odd cut to be conquered, but one full of succulent meals.

Have you made or eaten head cheese? 

Cinnamon Almond Crunch {Recipe}

 

Growing up as the oldest of four girls, I remember my mother cooking for nutrition and the efficient use of her time and food budget. We ate well, and mostly from scratch, but meals were not complicated. We rarely ate dessert and when we did, it was almost always homemade.

That's why summertime pool snacks were always a huge treat. Mom would buy sugared cereal especially for this purpose, the only time we ever ate Fruity Pebbles or Lucky Charms or Cinnamon Toast Crunch, my favorite. She'd send us off on our bikes with towels and a box of cereal.

Looking back, I realize what a brilliant coup this was - snacks from the snack bar used cash she didn't want us carrying around and weren't filling. Cereal was undoubtedly cheaper, a little more nutritionally balanced, and still satisfied our desire for a treat.

Fast forward to my birthday this fall. The idea was to have ice cream sundaes for dessert and my mom asked my sister Heather, a pastry chef, to make a nutty topping. She tossed together these simple baked almonds. The sugary, crisp nuts made me start snacking like I was back at the pool with my hands in a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Beyond an awesome part of a sundae, Cinnamon Almond Crunch makes a lovely gluten-free bit of crunch on top of a pudding, fool, or crisp. Add a pile to a fruit and cheese appetizer. I like eating them right out of the jar.

Cinnamon Almond Crunch Makes: 1 quart Time: 1 hour

1 egg white 8 ounces blanched, slivered almonds 1/3 cup sugar 1/8 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1. Whip egg white in a large bowl just until fluffy. 2. Fold in almonds until they are evenly coated. 3. Stir in sugar, salt, and cinnamon until almonds are well coated. 4. Spread in an even layer on a parchment- or silpat-lined cookie sheet. 5. Bake at 250 degrees F for 30-45 minutes or until almonds are slightly browned and the sugar is crisp. 6. Cool at room temperature. Store in an air-tight container for up to two weeks. Keep away from curious cats.

Homemade Celery Powder {Recipe}

Swainway Urban Farm grew beautiful, strong celery this year. The stalks were dense in flavor and texture and sold with the abundant tops. This variety isn't well suited to eating as a veggie stick but perfect for cooking. I roasted it, added it to stock, and made a cream of  celery soup that even satisfied picky Lil. One bunch of celery yielded almost eight cups of leaves. Thanks to my friend and fellow farmers' market junkie Jenn, I knew just what to do with them so that I could savor the local organic celery flavor for months to come.

I made a spice!*

After a simple wash, zip in the hated food processor, and 12 hours in the dehydrator, the kelly green leaves reduced to mere ounces of dried celery powder.

Celery powder, like celery itself, is a natural source of sodium nitrate. Sodium nitrate is what turns into sodium nitrite in our digestive system. And sodium nitrite is the reason bacon tastes like bacon and corned beef tastes like corned beef - it's antimicrobial and piquant and completely delicious.

Anything you cook with a sprinkle of celery powder becomes more tasty. Add some to a rub for meat or a stew for another layer of flavor. Keep it on hand for soups when you run out of celery. Make it a part of dressings, sauces, and dips. I aim for my pantry to never be without celery powder again.

Celery Powder Makes: 2 ounces Time: 12.5 hours total, 20 minutes active

8 cups celery leaves (very fresh, organic celery is best because it has the best flavor) 1/2 cup water

1. Wash celery leaves and place in food processor while damp. 2. Pulse in the food processor, adding up to 1/2 cup water, until leaves are finely chopped into a thick puree. 3. Spread in a thin layer on fruit leather tray in a dehydrator. (It may be possible to dry the puree in a very low oven on a parchment- or silicone- lined cookie sheet.) 4. Dehydrate for 8-12 hours at the dehydrator's lowest setting, stirring to ensure that all leaves are dehydrated completely. 5. Crumble in your fingers as you fill a spice jar with the powder. For a finer powder, mill in a mortar and pestle.

*Semantics among you might argue that celery powder is a dried herb. But I put it in a spice jar in the spice drawer, so I'm calling it a spice.