Survival

I decided to make zucchini bread this afternoon. It was a tough decision, I can tell you. I had a long debate with myself.

• It’s SO hot outside. What are you thinking?
―But there is zucchini in the refrigerator.
• Do you even bother to READ anything you blog about?
―But there is zucchini in the refrigerator.
• Have you looked at the hall thermometer? It says 78 degrees. Inside. Before the oven has been on for 45 minutes.
―Only 78? That’s not bad.
• But it’s the first time it’s been under 80 inside, during the daytime, since … since I don’t know when.
―But there is zucchini in the refrigerator. If I don’t make bread I will have to eat green blobs in my dinner tonight.
• Oh, right. The green blobs. What was I thinking?

I baked. And I doubled the recipe and baked four loaves of zucchini bread because when I looked more closely in the vegetable bin, there were two zucchinis. I did not want to sweat in a hot kitchen for nothing. I needed a guarantee that for at least tonight, my dinner would be zucchini-free.

Here is my favorite zucchini bread recipe, courtesy of Dean’s mom.

ZUCCHINI BREAD

Cream:

3 eggs

2 cups sugar

1 cup salad oil

3 tsp. vanilla

Stir:

2 cups grated zucchini

3 cups flour

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. soda

¼ tsp. baking powder

3 tsp. cinnamon

Combine with creamed mixture. Add ½ cup chopped nuts. Pour into two greased and flour bread pans. Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes.

In the past I have added all kinds of nuts … walnuts, pecans, sliced almonds. Today I used up the rest of the sliced almonds and since I needed more nuts I also added pecans. A little coconut sounded good so I threw in about ¾ cup of that just for the heck of it. I didn't add them this time but you can never go wrong with raisins. Never.

Buen Apetito!◦

Survival

Best. Bread. Book. Ever.

Many, many years ago, before the age of bread machines and tangerine kitchen aids, my mom gave me this awesome little cookbook.

Sometime, somehow, it disappeared. I’m not sure how or when, but I can guarantee you Dean’s heart was not broken by the knowledge that there was one less food-splattered, page-sticking cookbook on the shelf defiling the pristine and glossy pages of his own collection. Until now, that is. Leslie recently discovered this little gem in the collection of cookbooks my dad gave her after my mom died. I’m not sure why Dad didn’t even want to attempt to bake his own bread…..he’s never said…but I suspect there was a flash of lightening one night and he heard, “Jerry, remember the dishwasher episode? Give the cookbooks to somebody who knows what they’re doing….” Anyway, this beauty was already broken in with its own share of stains and margin notes and fit right in with my own collection of dog-eared, and food-splattered cookbooks. (I’m thinking of giving Dean cookbook therapy for Christmas this year). Every recipe I have baked from this cookbook has resulted in sighs of contentment and pleasure when I eat it. Now all I need is to find another copy at a garage sale or thrift store, so when the food stains I add conceal the ingredients and instructions, I will be able to pull out my spare.

Without further ado….one of the many luscious (to quote my mom) bread recipes I have tried.

Cracked Wheat Bread (makes 2 loaves)

4 ¾ to 5 ¾ cups unsifted flour

3 tablespoons sugar

4 teaspoons salt

2 packages Active Dry Yeast

1 ½ cups water

½ cup milk

3 tablespoons margarine

1 cup cracked wheat

If you have, or can find, cracked wheat, the rest is simple. If not the following may apply:

First of all, sigh and look sad when you discover that you don’t have cracked wheat and you really, really want to bake this bread. Now. When your spouse/fiancé/significant other pulls out a container of bulgur wheat and announces that “this is the same thing as cracked wheat!”, point out that the bulgur wheat is not cracked and you don’t feel that the recipe was named “cracked wheat bread” because of the resulting cracked teeth those hard bulgur pellets would produce.

Allow for the extra time it will take for your spouse/fiancé/significant other to drag up the laptop, plug it in, login and then Google to prove to you that the bulgur wheat you have in the cupboard is the same thing as the cracked wheat called for in the recipe.

Give yourself time, lots of time, to gloat when your spouse/fiancé/significant other discovers the bulgur wheat will not crack, grind, or break up whether he tries the little food processor or the caveman tool that’s kept (and you all wish you had--come on admit it) on your kitchen counter.

Save the day by soaking the uncracked bulgur wheat in the milk mixture to soften it. Try not to gloat. Continue on with the recipe.

In a large bowl thoroughly mix 2 cups flour, sugar, salt, and undissolved yeast.

Combine water, milk, and margarine in a saucepan. Heat over low heat until liquids are very warm (120-130 degrees F). Margarine does not need to melt. Gradually add to dry ingredients and beat 2 minutes at medium speed of electric mixer, scraping bowl occasionally. Add cracked (or soaked bulgur) wheat and beat at high speed 2 minutes, scraping bowl occasionally. Stir in enough additional flour to make a soft dough. Turn out onto lightly floured board; knead until smooth and elastic, about 8-10 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover; let rise in warm place, free from draft, until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. (This isn’t part of the recipe, but I always use plastic wrap to keep the dough from drying out here in the land of no rain.)

Punch dough down. Turn out onto lightly floured board. Cover; let rest on board 15 minutes. Divide dough in half. Roll each half to a 12 x 8-inch rectangle. Shape into loaves. Place in 2 greased 8 ½ x 4 ½ x 2 ½-inch loaf pans. Cover; let rise in warm place, free from draft, until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Bake at 400 degrees F. about 30 minutes, or until done. Remove from pans and cool on wire racks.

Your bread will look like this.

Hungry?◦

Best. Bread. Book. Ever.

Portland Endings ... Harvest Beginnings

We had our first really hard frost this week which means the end to garden growth but the beginning to garden harvesting.  I would be just as happy if all our produce came from the grocery store.  I'm not saying I don't enjoy the fresh produce, I just don't enjoy it enough to put forth the work.  Dean, on the other hand, seems to love the back-breaking dirt preparation, seed/seedling planting, weeding (not that he does much of that), and the all-important harvesting.  That's what's been going on this weekend.  Yesterday he pulled some of the 5,281 onions he planted, chopped them all up while wearing his specially purchased onion-fume-preventing goggles, and made some kind of pickled onion thing.  Our house now reeks of onions.

note the steam in the goggles

This morning just as I had taken the first sip of my coffee and was sitting down to read the paper  I found out Dean would "probably need help digging the potatoes before it rains."  I left my steaming coffee on the table, put on my dad's old army coat, my earband and snow boots, tromped out, and with my freezing fingers, in a wind chill of 25 degrees, plucked potatoes forked up from some of the 798 hills of potatoes Dean had planted and placed them gently in a box. 

Today he has been making green tomato chutney from the 16,275 tomatoes he has picked from his plants.  During a break in the chutney action I slipped in and mixed up a batch of sourdough bread which is now rising peacefully on the counter.   I wonder how many times I'll have to punch it down until there's another opportunity to slip in so I can form the loaves.

So......since it's a cold, rainy, gloomy day and my husband has taken over the kitchen it seems a good time to finish up with our trip to Portland.

On Friday we took a scenic drive.   I don't think this was part of the "scenic tour" but we were almost as impressed with  this cabbage field as we were with the many waterfalls we saw along the way. 

Scenic Drive--Click for slideshow

We ended our drive at the Bonneville Dam just as a barge was preparing to go through the locks.  I spoke to an older (even older than me) gentleman standing next to me as we were watching and he said he'd lived in the area his whole life and had never seen the locks in action so we were pretty dang lucky.  Once the process had completed, we checked out the fish ladders. 

Locks and Fish Ladders--click for slideshow

Saturday we were downtown again checking out the arts and crafts market and walking through Chinatown.  It turned out that it was also "Operation Overcoat" day and there was a long line of homeless people snaking its way down and around a couple of blocks waiting to get into a large fenced off area with tables of free clothing and food.  It was an up-close and personal reminder of how lucky I am. But seeing this in front of a school on one of our walks made me feel hopeful and happy.

As I've been writing this, the smell of onion in our house has now been replaced by vinegar fumes.  My eyelids are sweating, my eyes are watering and my nose is pinched.  I managed to sneak in and form my bread loaves although they're probably going to taste like vinegar.  I might be forced to open doors and windows to clear the air.  With the stiff breeze I see outside it probably wouldn't take long.  And even if the temperature inside drops down to 55 or so Dean should be used to it since that's my preferred sleeping temperature these days and can only be obtained by sleeping with a window open year-round.  I have noticed that the past few mornings there have been miscellaneous bits of clothing thrown across his side of the bed which he must grab during the night .....shirts, bathrobe...., apparently to increase his warmth.  I can't yet bring myself to switch from the summer bedspread to the comforter so today I added a blanket.  He should be toasty now.

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Portland Endings ... Harvest Beginnings