Baking Season

With Thanksgiving quickly approaching, we are entering into the scariest part of the year for dieters . . . BAKING SEASON. This is especially challenging if the following factors are present:

1. you are sick of your diet
2. you have hit a "plateau" (code word for not losing weight for a while and maybe gaining a few lb back, which totally sucks)
3. you love to bake
4. you equate food with love
5. you equate fresh home-baked goodies with bestest love

So - anyone have any tips for me that I haven't heard a million times already? I'm not looking for safe, overused platitudes here, I'm looking for solid advice.

Meanwhile, I'm going back to bed for a nap before work (and to avoid thinking about baking.)

Important Things

I'm thinking today about what is important in life. What makes something important, and what level of sacrifice would you be willing to give for those things?

Oh yes, there are some "easy" answers to those questions. I would venture to suggest that each of us has at least one person, but often several persons for whom we would sacrifice a great deal. What I'm talking about now, though, is what, other than people, are you willing to lay on the line, say, for your job? Your car? Your food?

Backing up a little, let me explain how I got to these deep thoughts.

First of all, my favorite car has reached the point where it will cost more in repairs than I'm willing to sacrifice. I bought my nifty, purple PT Cruiser several years ago when we decided to downsize from a van and save some gas money. I've loved this car more than any other I've ever had. It looks cool (I mean, it's freakin purple!), it has a moon roof, it has SEAT WARMERS, and electric gadgets all over the place. I love love love this car! It gets decent mileage, it's quirky, it has great visibility from the driver's seat . . . and did I mention that it's purple? Anyway, it's reached the point, like all cars do, where fixing it would cost more than it's blue book value. Sigh. Most of the vehicles I've had, although I've grown somewhat attached to them, I really have just seen as transportation, but this Cruiser, well, it's sorta been a part of who I am for a while, you know? Silly? Of course it is! I love being silly, haven't you noticed? So we're giving it away, and I'm feeling a little blue about that.

Second, I work for the public library (as if you didn't already know that). I love my job, and I love my library system. I believe we do really important work. I believe, in my deepest of deep parts that the library is one of the most important institutions in our country, and indeed, that we cannot have a free and democratic society without a library. I believe that a good library (like ours) can be a major factor in changing the course of generational poverty and helping families break long, long cycles by helping them increase their literacy and job capabilities. I believe that everyone should have free, easy access to the internet, global information and intellectual freedom. But you know what? When the snow is coming down in big, fluffy flakes at a rate of 1/4 inch an hour and the roads are slick and freezing, I still wanna get me a snow day! I know, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but that's just the way it is. My good friend, Nick, said something on FB or Twitter that got me thinking about how vital our services and our availability are to our customers . . . and really, especially in the neighborhood I serve this is true. For some of my customers, the library is about the only thing they have to do on any given day, let alone a snowy one! If I can slowly and cautiously make my way there to open our doors, it's probably a very good thing, but I'm still not sure I want to sacrifice my life.

Third, I am thinking today about what makes a day special for me. Today I'm trying to make the day special for Simon by making him brownies to celebrate his early release day (due to snow). I gathered my special brownie-making bowl, my special brownie-making spoon, etc. I used the same recipe (well, with some alterations to make them less sugary and more dark chocolatey) I've used my whole life, from Mom's cook book. It is a special experience for me, and making the brownies cheered me up. Is there a recipe that cheers you up? I smiled, thinking that food always cheers me, and that is probably partly why I struggle with my weight. But then, who cares? Frankly, if it wasn't a health risk, I wouldn't care about the weight. It is, though, which sucks, so I won't be eating any of those delicious dark chocolate brownies with chocolate chunks. That sacrifice is worth it, and I got the pleasure of making them for my skinny kid.

So what is important to you? What do you sacrifice for your job? Is it worth the sacrifices you make? What do you sacrifice for your eating/drinking habits? Is it worth it? What would you do if you figured out that something you were doing wasn't worth the sacrifices you were making to do it?

Crisp Air, Delicious Flavors

Fresh raspberries and peaches were on sale at the grocery (sorry, didn't make it to the farmer's market this week). Don't they look delicious? Let me tell you - they are! I topped these babies with some shortcake batter and baked it all for about 50 minutes. Cobblery goodness, I tell ya!

Now, I know I was out of commission for a while with the brain leak, but how did it get to be Fall already? I don't just mean school starting, I mean the weather! We had our windows and doors open yesterday (and honestly, didn't everyone?) and I actually got COLD! It's still August! I'm having a hard time believing in Global Warming this Summer - anyone else?

Domesticity

A few weeks ago I felt an inexplicable craving for sweet rolls. Now, we go to a shopping center quite often that has a Cinnabun shop. All through the place you can smell that delicious cinnamon/butter smell. It always makes my mouth water, but we never buy any. They are delicious, don't get me wrong, but they're not homemade sweet rolls . . . the taste may be extraordinary . . . but for me, a key component of having homemade sweet rolls is the visceral experience of making them. I love working with yeast, watching the dough change it's properties while you knead it, let it rise, punch it down, let it rise, roll it out, form it up, let it rise again, and bake it. I love making sweet rolls, and usually I only make them once a year . . . at Christmas. But this time, I knew I had to make them for my book group potluck, which is tomorrow. When I was a kid we used to go to big family picnics several times each Summer, and someone would always bring sweet rolls (store bought, but as they were from great bakeries, they were very good), slathered in icing and butter.

So this morning I got out my favorite bowl, my favorite spoon, and let the ingredients all come to room temperature (just like my home ec. teacher taught me). It struck me, then, how very sensual and marvelous this whole process is for me. It's ritualistic, almost like some pagan right of nature. The perfect handmade stoneware bowl . . . the well-loved wooden spoon (oh, how many batches of brownies and cookies and sweet rolls it has made with me), the old pyrex measuring cup (inherited from my Grandma's collection when she passed away), and the recipe card, written out in by my mother in her perfect teacher's script. Then there are the ingredients themselves: yeast moistening in warm water, eggs rolling around on the counter, my luke-warm milk in the glass container, and of course, real butter (never used for anything other than cooking very special baked goods in this, The House of Heart Disease). At this beginning point, it is all about anticipation.

Then I mix - I put in all the ingredients, mixing them slowly together in the bowl at first. As the flour is added, I have to mix more strenuously, putting real muscle into the process as the dough becomes sticky and unyielding.

There is always a point in the process when I must move the dough to the counter, and when I think to myself "Oh, yes, this is why I don't do this very often." The dough is sticky and messy, I put my wedding ring into my pocket and start pushing and mixing the last of the flour in, on the counter. It is so messy that I nearly always falter, I think I may never get to the smoothness that I long to find.

But then, sweet bliss! The dough starts to take on that new quality of smoothness. It becomes elastic and firm at the same time. There is nothing that feels like this kind of dough at this point. It is beautiful - that transition into real dough. Soft, just a bit sticky, but not sticky enough to stay on your hands. This is when I fall in love with the baking again, and I love kneading this, my dear friend, the dough. But soon I realize that if I keep on kneading, it would make the dough too tough and chewy, and I must gather it into a smooth ball and place it aside to rise.

I put a thin layer of oil (today I used softened margarine) all over the inside of my perfect, beautiful bowl, and slather a thin layer all over my ball of dough so it won't stick or crust in the rising. Then it gets covered in my clean linen towel (another beautiful item that inspires me) and placed on in a warm spot. Now I am free for a few hours, knowing that soon, soon I will get to punch all the bubbles out. As the day goes by I'll let it rise another time before forming it into the delicious rolls.