One Year of Real Bread.

It's hard for me to believe that it has now been an entire year since I grew my sourdough culture. I thought of this since my Parents came to visit me this week, bringing with them grapes, tomatoes, and pumpkins for me to play with. When we first moved as a family to the farm in 1988, we were excited to have a variety of already established, old-timey things like apples, grapes, and raspberries right in our yard. Grapes in particular were exciting to us, since they can't really thrive up north where we had come from. We had both wild grapes and Concords, and my Mom has canned grape juice and grape jelly pretty much every year since. I was busy most of the day today with grapes, and will likely talk about them at length later, but smelling that deep purple of them just reinforced my love of bread - how grapes remind me now of the symbiotic relationship between wild yeast and fruit, fermentation and bread.

While I have always had a deep love for all things carbohydrate, and have never been shy of yeast bakery, I never would have dreamed that it was possible for me, amateur home baker, to turn out wild, natural leaven breads one at a time with relative ease. Those grapes that assisted me on my favorite fermentation adventure ever are a continual reminder of the relationship between the baker and the ingredient, and the realization that what comes from my hands is really maybe only half skill and the other half a credit to the powers of the unseen world. No wonder bread has such mystical and spiritual connotation - the more I make it the more I am solidly convinced in the power of the Almighty.

While I have written many posts on bread and my experiments with it, I wrote them all with the passion of new discovery. As I have worked my way through different books, different methods, various ratios and flours, I have found little tips with each loaf. Having baked through an entire year with wild yeast, I can say (from my personal experience, anyway) that Summer bread is tough to master. Now that the air is thinner, crisp with impending Autumn, my excitement for bread making is again in full swing - the past three or four loaves in particular knocking my proverbial socks right off.

firm starter, just out of the fridge.

I am still using the ratios in Peter Reinhart's book Crust and Crumb, and yes, I am still available if he'd like me to personally go door to door and promote it. All Summer, I had been making his recipe for Country Style Levain (which a few other loaves interspersed in there too). Generally, it was good. Big, airy holes and a nice round sour flavor, sometimes it felt a little wet in the middle... but I chalked it up to a "custardy interior" and ate almost all of it regardless of the varying degrees of perfection.

But a week or so ago, I went back to his slightly different "San Francisco" Sourdough, and I am newly smitten, as if I had never had such success with bread before. Both aforementioned breads use a base Peter calls a Firm Starter. The build begins with the firm starter a day or two prior to mixing up bread, and the firm starter remains viable for about 3 days in the fridge (longer if you refresh it with additional water and flour). I'm not quite sure if it is a combination of the weather, the hint of malt extract, or my decision to autolyse my loaves, but these breads have been so great they deserve their own billboard. The crumb is tight, absent of airy holes, but still with a bit of that wet custard feel. The crust is particularly amazing: crisp and caramel-y, making a proper mess of my floor when I go to slice into it. It's the best of all bread worlds, at least for now.

it windowpanes like nobody's business...

I have made this recipe before, though the results were not mind-boggling, and hence I had moved on to the Country Levain. Why it has decided to work for me now, I am not sure. I am beyond excited that for the first time ever, I have been able to use a well-floured brotform without having the loaf stick at all. The loaf does not deflate when I gingerly tip it over, even though each time I fully expect it to. I invert it onto the counter, then slash and move it to my preheated cast-iron pot, and it stays proudly puffed, living and breathing like I remember Nancy Silverton referring to it doing - and I never understood what she meant until now.

Since I usually have 100% hydration starter in largish amounts, because the firm starter lasts a few days in the fridge, and because I like using the firm starter in things besides bread (like this pizza dough), I usually mix up a larger batch of it. I'm still working on the optimum feeding schedule for my starter(s)... since I don't keep my main (100% hydration) starter in the refrigerator unless I absolutely have to, I feed it every day which sometimes can feel a tad wasteful. The build time for this bread can be shortened, and flavor sacrifice is minimal, so go ahead and bake it if you need bread!

Maybe I'm not really a true bread baker since I let my KitchenAid do my mixing. Had I the resources of a sturdy wood bench, I would likely do the hand kneading since I probably do need the exercise. You can make this bread by hand, just make sure to knead it until the gluten develops enough that you can spread a thin windowpane without tearing, and you'll be fine. This loaf is a good size for a standard 5 quart cast iron pot, which is how I prefer to bake to get a good crust. You can use a different baking method, and then form other bread shapes.

"Wisconsin" Sourdough (adapted for volume and method from Peter Reinhart)

For the Firm Starter:

• 1 c. 100% hydration starter
• 1 c. bread flour
• enough water to make it form into a ball - a few tablespoons

To make the Firm Starter: mix the starter ingredients in a mixing bowl. When they form a ball, turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead just until all the ingredients are incorporated, and dough forms a smooth ball. Place dough in a clean bowl, cover, and let ferment at room temperature for 4 hours. Then transfer to the fridge overnight or about 8 hours. The firm starter will be active for about 3 days. (If you leave it longer and need to refresh it, add 1 c. flour and 1/3 c. water or as much water to bring it back to roughly the same consistency. You can easily double the ingredients to allow for additional firm starter.)

For the Bread:

• 9 1/3 oz. firm starter, taken out of the fridge at least 1 hour before you want to use it
  
• 10 oz. bread flour
• 1/2 t. barley malt extract
  
• 6 oz. water
• heaping t. salt

Take the firm starter, break it into pieces, and combine it with everything else *Except Salt* in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook or, if working by hand, in a bowl. When it just comes together into a ball, cover the mixer with a towel, and let it rest for 20 minutes.

Sprinkle the salt over the top, and start the mixer. Knead for 8-10 minutes, until a golf ball size piece of dough will pass the windowpane test. (The dough is a little sticky, just drop it into the flour bin before trying to pass the test.) Transfer the dough to a lightly floured board, and give it a couple of kneads by hand to form it into a nice ball, then put it in a clean bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, or a plastic bag, and let rise at room temperature for 4 hours. It should show "signs of swelling", it doesn't need to truly double in size. If it seems to be rising faster due to a warmer room temperature, still let it ferment for the full 4 hours.

Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured board, and shape into a round loaf. (Try to "pull" the dough tightly, so that it forms a nice, compact ball. Pinch the bottom seams together if need be. It shouldn't spread out on you after you've formed a tight ball, that "skin" is what prevents the loaf from growing into a less desirable and larger shape.)

Lightly dust the loaf with flour, and place it in a floured brotform or circular colander lined with a linen towel that has been rubbed with flour. (Be sure that you have the smooth size facing down, and the crimped bottom side facing up.) Place the formed loaf in a plastic bag and let it ferment at room temperature for 3-4 hours, until about 1 1/2 times it's original size.

(You can now bake it... or let it sit overnight in the fridge well wrapped in the plastic bag. I've left it in the fridge for as long as 16 hours, and it still baked up fine.)

Remove the loaf from the fridge 1 hour before baking. Preheat the oven to 475 with a lidded cast iron pot inside. Carefully tip the loaf out onto a lightly floured surface and slash the top.

Transfer to the cast iron pot, and bake with the lid on for 30 minutes. Remove the lid, and continue to bake 10-15 minutes longer, until the crust has the color you like.

Let cool for at least an hour before cutting into it...

hot bread.

More than any other bread I've made, this one really "sings". Singing bread is the ultimate reward and one you can quiet your 5-year-old son with; it is the reaction of the hot loaf hitting the cooler room temperature air, the process of the exterior cooling and contracting. The fissures it creates in the loaf are pretty interesting, the cracks appearing in this particular bread are deeper than any other I've made. And like I said earlier, I can't be sure if I can take credit for any of it.

cool bread.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I can enjoy wheat. When I run into more and more people with gluten allergies, I really feel a particular sadness that I can't share this kind of bread epiphany with someone. When I stand proud over a cooling bread, when I try to identify that wheaty, toasty smell and can't find the proper word, when I can't stand it any longer, and cut the crusty end off the loaf to eat before dinner... I really remember to appreciate this ancient thing that no longer seems unattainable to me. I enjoy every single bite. I still have so much to learn, but now I feel empowered with competence: a year of wild yeast under my belt, and the world is my oyster.


This post has been YeastSpotted.

Daring Baker Challenge September 2011: Croissants

The Daring Bakers go retro this month! Thanks to one of our very talented non-blogging members, Sarah, the Daring Bakers were challenged to make Croissants using a recipe from the Queen of French Cooking, none other than Julia Child!

Before you read any further, you must watch this. Really. Take 29 minutes, and really enjoy it. I sat for a rare half hour and watched it, smiling the whole while. Not much more could entice you to give croissants a whirl for yourself, after watching it yesterday I certainly felt well equipped to tackle these pastries.

I have never made croissants before, but thanks to the Daring Bakers, I have made one other laminated dough: puff pastry. Other than being extremely fun to say, laminated doughs are fun to work with - enormous rewards coming not from intense labor, but from a fair amount of anticipation. Julia Child's recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking is, according to our host (and her copy of Larousse Culinary Encyclopedia), technically more Viennese than French, but wherever it hails from, it is absolutely perfect.

I started my batch of croissants yesterday around 11 a.m., and by 9 o'clock this morning, I was enjoying the first fruits of my patience. The yeast dough is incredibly active for only containing 1 1/4 t. of active dry yeast, twice it forced it's way through the plastic wrap when it was under refrigeration. The first 3 rises happen without the butter, then the flattened butter is made malleable with a mallet and rolled out encased in the soft. This was the first time I used a small rectangle of my Mom's countertop as a substitute for a marble slab. (It was leftover from her kitchen renovation, and I have had it for quite a few years now just taking up space really...) I wished it were larger so I could have rolled directly on it instead of on my maple board, it keeps it's coolness well, and aids in keeping the butter cool too. If I can ever build a dream kitchen, I will include a marble slab for rolling pastries.

The best thing about the Julia Child video above is her descriptions of her rolling pins. The rolling pin I have is the pin she describes as useless, the one she doesn't know why she keeps at all. It's about 7 inches long, and I don't even know where I got it. I've had it so long in part because I just never bought a large pin and in part because I like that the small size works in my small counter space and fits in my small drawers. This challenge, however, makes me confident to invest in a new, heavier, pin. A pin with some heft would have helped me have an easier go of rolling out this dough to be sure.

prior to rising.

There are many points during the making of these croissants that you can pause the process until you have time to get to it. I'd suggest making them on a day that you'll be home, then holding them overnight until you can bake them for breakfast, since the final roll and rise takes just over an hour. I loved that there were more than 50 steps to this process - so I have included them here. You can also find a printable version of this recipe here. It really reads more complicated than it is.

Croissants (Julia Child via the Daring Kitchen)

• 1¼ t. dry-active yeast
• 3 T. (45 ml) warm water (less than 100°F/38°C)
• 1 t. sugar
• 1 3/4 c. (225 g.) of strong plain flour (bread flour)
• 2 t. sugar
• 1½ t. salt
• ½ c. milk
• 2 T. tasteless oil (I used grapeseed oil)
• ½ c. (1 stick) chilled, unsalted butter
• 1 egg, for egg was

1. Mix the yeast, warm water, and first teaspoon of sugar in a small bowl. Leave aside for the yeast and sugar to dissolve and the yeast to foam up a little.
2. Measure out the other ingredients
3. Heat the milk until tepid (either in the microwave or a saucepan), and dissolve in the salt and remaining sugar
4. Place the flour in a large bowl.
5. Add the oil, yeast mixture, and milk mixture to the flour
6. Mix all the ingredients together using the rubber spatula, just until all the flour is incorporated
7. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface, and let it rest a minute while you wash out the bowl
8. Knead the dough eight to ten times only. The best way is as Julia Child does it in the video (above). It’s a little difficult to explain, but essentially involves smacking the dough on the counter (lots of fun if you are mad at someone) and removing it from the counter using the pastry scraper.
9. Place the dough back in the bowl, and place the bowl in the plastic bag.
10. Leave the bowl at approximately 75°F/24°C for three hours, or until the dough has tripled in size.

11. After the dough has tripled in size, remove it gently from the bowl, pulling it away from the sides of the bowl with your fingertips.
12. Place the dough on a lightly floured board or countertop, and use your hands to press it out into a rectangle about 8 by 12 inches (20cm by 30cm).
13. Fold the dough rectangle in three, like a letter (fold the top third down, and then the bottom third up)
14. Place the dough letter back in the bowl, and the bowl back in the plastic bag.
15. Leave the dough to rise for another 1.5 hours, or until it has doubled in size. This second rise can be done overnight in the fridge

16. Place the double-risen dough onto a plate and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Place the plate in the fridge while you prepare the butter.
17. Once the dough has doubled, it’s time to incorporate the butter
18. Place the block of chilled butter on a chopping board.
19. Using the rolling pin, beat the butter down a little, till it is quite flat.
20. Use the heel of your hand to continue to spread the butter until it is smooth. You want the butter to stay cool, but spread easily.

21. Remove the dough from the fridge and place it on a lightly floured board or counter. Let it rest for a minute or two.
22. Spread the dough using your hands into a rectangle about 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
23. Remove the butter from the board, and place it on the top half of the dough rectangle.
24. Spread the butter all across the top two-thirds of the dough rectangle, but keep it ¼ inch (6 mm) across from all the edges.

25. Fold the top third of the dough down, and the bottom third of the dough up.
26. Turn the dough package 90 degrees, so that the top flap is to your right (like a book). (Photo 19)
27. Roll out the dough package (gently, so you don’t push the butter out of the dough) until it is again about 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
28. Again, fold the top third down and the bottom third up.
29. Wrap the dough package in plastic wrap, and place it in the fridge for 2 hours.

30. After two hours have passed, take the dough out of the fridge and place it again on the lightly floured board or counter.
31. Tap the dough with the rolling pin, to deflate it a little
32. Let the dough rest for 8 to 10 minutes
33. Roll the dough package out till it is 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
34. Fold in three, as before
35. Turn 90 degrees, and roll out again to 14 by 8 inches (35 cm by 20 cm).
36. Fold in three for the last time, wrap in plastic, and return the dough package to the fridge for two more hours (or overnight, with something heavy on top to stop it from rising)

37. It’s now time to cut the dough and shape the croissants
38. First, lightly butter your baking sheet so that it is ready
39. Take the dough out of the fridge and let it rest for ten minutes on the lightly floured board or counter
40. Roll the dough out into a 20 by 5 inch rectangle (51 cm by 12½ cm).
41. Cut the dough into two rectangles (each 10 by 5 inches (25½ cm by 12½ cm))
42. Place one of the rectangles in the fridge, to keep the butter cold
43. Roll the second rectangle out until it is 15 by 5 inches (38 cm by 12½ cm).
44. Cut the rectangle into three squares (each 5 by 5 inches (12½ cm by 12½ cm))
45. Place two of the squares in the fridge
46. The remaining square may have shrunk up a little bit in the meantime. Roll it out again till it is nearly square
47. Cut the square diagonally into two triangles.
48. Stretch the triangle out a little, so it is not a right-angle triangle, but more of an isosceles.
49. Starting at the wide end, roll the triangle up towards the point, and curve into a crescent shape.
50. Place the unbaked croissant on the baking sheet
51. Repeat the process with the remaining squares of dough, creating 12 croissants in total.
52. Leave the tray of croissants, covered lightly with plastic wrap, to rise for 1 hour

53. Preheat the oven to very hot 475°F/240°C/gas mark 9.
54. Mix the egg with a teaspoon of water
55. Spread the egg wash across the tops of the croissants.
56. Put the croissants in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until the tops are browned nicely
57. Take the croissants out of the oven, and place them on a rack to cool for 10 minutes before serving.

These smelled delicious as they baked, were feather-light and buttery, crispy and flaky: perfect croissants. After they cooled ten minutes, I ate only one. To mark this occasion, I opened the first of the Summer preserves, choosing the Limey Rum Cherry Preserves to eat with such a powerhouse of a pastry. It seemed French enough to me!

In the Moments before Autolyse...

This morning after I had just got home from church, and was standing over my KitchenAid to continue a bread that began yesterday, I got the text message than my Gram had passed away a half hour before. I knew this day was close, and that her body was rapidly failing, but I still read the words with a tinge of disbelief. I haven't lost many people in my family, none so close as she was to me, but the grief I felt seemed somehow laced with joy. Joy that she is in a new and better place, joy that she is no longer in pain, joy that a flood of good memories could overwhelm me.

I think grandparents are so tremendously important, and my Gram was certainly an amazing woman and an important fixture in our lives. Since our houses were only about a half mile apart, we saw her nearly daily all throughout my childhood. She provided us with goat's milk in glass bottles with paper stoppers, she knit us woolens from her flock of sheep, she shared the bounty of her garden and her pantry. After I started 1st grade, my brother and I would get off the school bus at her house after school, where there would be remnants of lunch for us to pillage from the Shop kitchenette for a snack. (My Gram and my uncles ran an upholstery business, and my Gram brought lunch over from her next-door home every day. There were always leftovers.)

My Mom was the only girl, the middle of two older and two younger brothers, and even as a child I could sense the bond between a mother and her only daughter, something I have come to know with my own Mom, but something I'll never know with a child of my own. It somehow felt very fitting that I read this news when crafting a bread, the backbone of my daily life, the staple I am most proud to make myself and one that my Gram was very proficient in herself.

There isn't a whole lot that hasn't already been written about bread, sometimes I feel like it's a subject that is somewhat exhausted though nonetheless interesting. The bread I have made for the past year has been mostly "slow" bread, wild yeast bread that is at the mercy of it's environment, a product as much of the weather as of my contributions to it. I can never tell if it will work the way I want, but strangely it is always edible - something good always coming from what at times seems like disaster. The loss I'm feeling now is not that different, the timing of mixing a new loaf just as the old one was down to it's last slice: it is the inevitable circle of life that propels me forward as a cog in it.

It could feel insignificant, each person moving in his or her own circles, briefly moving along the motions of life that sometimes connect us and sometimes do not. But people like my Gram bury themselves deep inside you, the twinkle in her blue eyes that never dimmed even as she could no longer see. She had a profound love of life and the ability to make the most of it, be it with meager rations or with plenty. I have a feeling that she touched more people than she realized, and I know she meant more to me than I ever probably conveyed. She has left an incredible impression on me, a stellar example of how to be independent and productive as well as faithful and diligent.

The bread that continues to rise now and will bake later tonight will continue to remind me of her, and I'm figuring the number of loaves out of the oven for the next several weeks will as well. Let them be a testament to her life, her steadfast and sureness, all of her reminders to me through her quiet ways to live my life well, so that I have no regrets at the end.

On (Home) Butchery.

I well remember my last tetanus shot. It was Fall of 2003, and I was making a pizza after arriving home late from work. I was slicing some green pepper when my hand slipped, and I sliced an incision in my left thumb so deep that it made my eyes well up with tears. The reason I remember so vividly is that I have a phobia of hospitals, needles, and anything medically related in general, and I remember trying to convince the doctor who looked at my swollen, still bleeding digit that I didn't need one.

"It's a clean cut," I said. "I just have some really sharp knives." My clever argument didn't work, and I clearly remember him assuring me that I would recall that the last tetanus I had would be in 2003. Those knives are the ones I still have, a Christmas gift from my parents the year prior, a Wusthof classic 7 piece set. And almost the same number of years later, I still bear a small scar on my left thumb to remind me not to chop hastily.

Since I spend so much time in the kitchen, I rely most heavily on my chef's knife. I probably use it more than I should, and in reality it is maybe just a tad too big for my hands. But over the years I have adapted to it, so much so that if I were to spring on another, smaller, perhaps Asian knife, I would certainly have a learning curve. As much love as I have for my current knives, there were always some tasks that I felt I could accomplish better if I had better tools, breaking down chickens, in particular.

It has been several years since I have purchased meat from anywhere other than a farm. Longtime readers will remember that I split beef and pork with my Parents that is raised near their place in southwestern Wisconsin. Local Amish raise the animals for us in the way we would raise them if we had the resources to do so. We order chickens early in Spring, that are ready and butchered in Fall. Communication is done by U.S. Mail, or by a pop-in visit my Mom does to find the date of the butchering. Last year, I got 5 chickens and I have to say that outside of Christmastime, they were the only chicken we ate at my house. Even though we aren't overly carnivorous around here, I only really left my long time (mostly) vegetarian lifestyle after my marriage to a burger and brat man.

When I look back at the reasons for my meaty aversions, I really think that I was just afraid of it. I was afraid of packages of parts, I was afraid that I wouldn't get my counters clean enough. I was afraid of under cooking it, and so most things I made were overcooked and didn't really taste that great. After we began sourcing good meat, I felt none of those concerns... and while I still don't eat a meat-heavy diet, I feel good about having an entire healthy animal to work with.

Now, I have a lot to learn about breaking down animals. I have never seen a whole side of beef and marveled at the anatomy of an impossibly large cow. But I have watched my Mom cut a bird into 8 pieces, moving the joints to find the places to cut through. Going through the motions that (with 5 birds a year) are still rather new to me, I found it was infinitely easier with this Wusthof butchery set. The poultry shears nipped through easily as I cut out the backbone, the hefty cleaver broke the sternum swift and neat. But what I am most in love with is the boning knife that made quick work of removing the skeleton parts from the pale pink flesh. I tried not to feel bad for not making such a neat work of it, but seeing as I have never removed bones before, I think I did all right. (I also take comfort that any remaining meat on the bones I discarded will enrich my stock all that much more and not really be wasted.)

spring loaded!

Since for the past couple of years I have dealt more in chicken than chicken parts, I have to say that I enjoy most a chicken in a pot (check out this one!). Roasted chickens are great, that burnished brown skin so alluring and crisp. But to make a whole bird in some kind of sauce, braising it in the oven for an hour or two until you have the best of all worlds? I almost prefer that to any other kind of meat. Tonight, I dredged my chicken pieces in flour speckled with minced rosemary, paprika, salt, and pepper and after wilting 3/4 lb. of mushrooms with some green onions in butter (and removing them from my pot), I added a little more butter and browned the chicken. I added just a little more butter and the leftover flour, and made a roux with vermouth, leftover veg stock that needed using, and half a lemon. I added everything back, topped it off with the last of the veg stock, and baked it in the oven for an hour until it was bubbly, perfectly cooked.

We'll have several days of leftovers, and something for the freezer before this chicken is gone completely.

As we were eating dinner, I thought how my next big cut will likely award me with another tetanus shot. The ten years between them seems to have gone lightening fast, and still my thumb has the little knot of scar tissue that will never quite go away. My thumbprint is actually altered there, part of my identity forever changed by my devotion to wielding sharp knives. I actually need to find a good knife sharpening service, since a shy decade of my honing has likely taken a toll on my set.

I wonder if I will be brave enough to ask my Parents' neighbor if I can help butcher chickens. If I could learn to accept the most visceral part of responsible meat eatery. I suspect I will. And when I do, I'll be sure to be careful of my fingers.

Disclosure: I did receive a Wusthof 3-Piece Poultry Set (available exclusively at Williams-Sonoma) for review. My opinions are my own, and are not embellished.

Everything's Rosy.

About a year ago I read somewhere about a woman who said that she likes to wake up at least a half hour before her household. Thirty minutes hardly seems like enough time to accomplish anything, but recently I have successfully implemented this myself - even if it requires me to be ripped from my sleep and dreams, and even if it makes me feel blurry eyed for several minutes before actually getting out of bed.

For the past 5 years, I have not really set an alarm. We got up when we woke up, I got up actually when the Kiddo woke up since I am rather night-owlish. But getting up at the crack of dawn isn't really so bad. This morning, I had already thrown in the first load of laundry and prepped some beets to roast before my son was even poked gently awake. My entire morning seemed rather pink after dropping him off at school. I walked in the door, (washed my hands), and took the roasted beets out of the oven. It's our last hot day, and I had the oven on early so I could welcome Fall tomorrow with beety fresh baked goods.

When they were cooling, I ran the Watermelon Jellies down to the basement shelves. I made two batches over the weekend using Marisa's recipe, one plain and one with fresh cayenne peppers. I have never made watermelon jelly before, but I have to say that it has grown on me. Especially the cayenne version. I am most excited to make some crackers, get some good sheep's milk feta, and enjoy this warming sweet melon flavored jelly to it's full capacity. I tried the skimmed off foam on frozen scones, and was appropriately amazed. Watermelon Jelly is completely worthwhile and deserves a place on the jam shelf, and don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise!

I also strained out the elderberry vinegar. It had been sitting for several days (I've lost count), but tasted well rounded and earthy so I figured it was time. Using the workhorse nut milk bag, I let it hang for about a half hour before squeezing the pulp nearly dry. My hands briefly stained light purple, I measured the finished vinegar at 4 cups. Using the same method as the Cherry Vinegar (which was adapted from Pam Corbin's Raspberry Vinegar), I added 1 c. of sugar for each cup of vinegar and warmed it just enough to completely dissolve the sugar so that my cider vinegar remained raw. It is lovely. I have the jars bottled, labeled, and transferred to the basement shelves. I just drank a couple of tablespoons over ice, diluted with seltzer water, and it is fantastic. But since elderberry seems to be more in the medicinal family than the gustatory one, I'll be sure to curb my consumption. However, drinking 2 T. a day throughout cold and flu season seems like it could be very easy to do.

I peeled the beets, and pureed a couple of them. When looking up the link for the Ground Cherry Hot Sauce I made last week, I ran into a beet doughnut recipe that Sarah Nett posted. They were baked doughnuts, and I have not made dessert over here in what seems like forever (in reality, it has only been a week or two). In the back of my mind I thought perhaps I could make these camouflaged enough that my boys would both eat and love them, but after trying them, I'm not completely certain they would be fooled.

I love the flavor and color, but the texture needs some work. Had I baked them in a doughnut pan (I don't have one), I think they may have worked better actually, since the texture did remind me of doughnuts. Making them as muffins instead left the bottoms slightly gummy - and I suspect I should have added a bit more flour or leavener.

If you are a baker, will you take a look at my recipe in progress and give me a couple of suggestions? I have a feeling these could be fantastic with a tweak or two...

WORK IN PROGRESS Beet Muffins (adapted from My Culinary Sanctuary)

• 1 c. AP flour
• 1/2 c. whole wheat flour
• 1 1/2 t. baking powder
• 1 t. cinnamon
• 1/4 t. nutmeg
• 1/4 t. salt

• 1/2 c. pureed beets
  
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 c. brown sugar
• 1/2 c. yogurt
• 1 t. vanilla
• 1 T. vegetable oil (I eyeballed)

Preheat oven to 350. Line a muffin tin with papers, or grease them well.

Sift dry ingredients together in a large bowl.

In a medium sized bowl, beat eggs with brown sugar for several minutes, until the sugar is partially dissolved. Mix in yogurt, vanilla and oil, and beat well.

Scrape the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, and mix well by hand, but do not overmix. Portion into the waiting muffin tin.

Bake for 25-30 minutes until a tester comes out clean.

slightly gummy.

I am not about to give up on these beet muffins. On looks alone, they have captured my Autumn-ready heart. I glazed them using a quick doughnut glaze that I remembered loving from the Daring Baker Donut Challenge a while back. I eyeballed small amounts into a little bowl and stirred it with a spoon. After dunking the photographic one, I just spooned a little over each. (I am frustrated with my favorite muffin papers. They used to be amazing and non-stick and now the only thing they have going for them is that they are compostable...)

So I feel productive and maybe a little less lonely on this second Monday of the school year. I'm saving my yard work for tomorrow when our weather will quickly turn to more Fall-like temperatures. My morning went fast, which I know is how these school years will go.

Please remember if you have an idea for these muffins to let me know. Could it be that they need a stick of butter? When I'm so tired tonight from getting up so early, I'm sure I'll be wide awake thinking about how to fix them.