lazy baking

Baking is the best way to spend a lazy sunday afternoon. After church this sunday I spent the day baking at my friends house. Sometimes it's aggravating to bake in someone else's kitchen.  "Where are the spices?" I find myself asking.  "Where are the measuring spoons? And why don't you have a microwave?" We discovered that leaving frozen butter out in the hot June sunshine proves more profitable than microwaving it.

Microwaves aren't always good to me.  I've learned to keep my eye on that rotating stick of butter.  One minute it's a dry pasty stick, the next minute a pool of golden liquid. To keep it from melting completely I normally watch the top center.  When it starts to sink like a whorl pool, I take it out.  All the same we managed without a microwave, and softened enough butter to cover three loaves of Country French bread from work.  But of course we didn't soften the butter for toast.  We used it to make some two dozen cookies and a delicate white cake.  It sounds easy enough when I put it that way, but for a long silent while, we sat at the kitchen table searching through recipes.

I was surprised at the number of cookbooks they had.  Some were even from the 1940s!  But O how I love looking through cookbooks. The smell of cake flour resinating from the pages gets me in the mood for baking.  I stroke the thin, white, printed pages between my fingers.  I think about where this cookbook has been.  What dusty shelves has it inhabited? What little child's fingers have pawed through it, looking for delightful pictures? And most of all which of its recipes have inspired some of the most extravagant cooks and bakers?

We lingered a little longer around the table before we finalized our decision.  Two cake pans came out of the corner cabinet, while a mixing bowl came down from the one above it.  We beat butter and sugar, separated eggs, and fished out the accidental yokes. I toyed with the egg shells, tossing the yolks back and forth between shells.  The stubborn egg whites separated from their yokes reluctantly.  With a handheld mixer I whipped the whites.  The rapid spinners threw my arm back and forth.  I took a tighter grip.  A few moments later I checked for a stiff peak.  The frothy whites where Colorado's snowy slopes.  Maybe more like Alaskan slopes or an arctic waste land.  They folded perfectly into the ready cake batter.  The batter was unusually thick.  While folding the whites, the batter climbed up the mixer with intensions to destroy the machine.  We giggled and laughed at the seemingly alive batter.  The mixer fought back seeking to keep the cake batter in it's place. A little while later found the cake baked and cooling on a rack. To top it off, we iced it in black and white.  White frosting piped in chocolate icing.

Salmonella Poinsoning, Fact or Fiction?

Eating a warm freshly baked cookie is delicious. But eating cookie dough is even more so. We all grew up eating cookie dough while baking. Aside from enjoying the sweet batter, tasting it was part of the baking process. You add a little flour to a creamy batter and taste it. With my chocolate chip cookies, I taste it to know if they're ready to go in. But research shows that eating cookie batter has high risk of internal infection. Everyone has heard this statement at one point, and since I've never gotten sick, I thought it was just parents trying to kill the fun. Salmonella poisoning is the most popular infection. But what exactly does that mean? Salmonella can get into raw cookie dough because it can contaminate the eggs used to make the dough. It's a bacteria that can cause atrocious symptoms like vomiting, nausea, cramps, fever, diarrhea and headache.  About 142,000 (reported) Americans are infected each year with Salmonella poisoning from chicken eggs, and about 30 die. Should this scare you? Maybe so. But living in fear of catching some disease all the time is no way to live life. If doctors say don't eat it, we may say, then why do you put it in ice cream? Anyway it's not just the raw eggs that carry this infection. A friend of mine said her mom got Salmonella from eating unwashed lettuce! Other reports say uncooked flour may give you infection! Take precautions, do some research, think twice before you take another spoon of cookie dough. But don't live in fear of bacteria contaminating your body. Remember the one who's in control of all the molecules and atoms that make up this world. http://melissaraydavis.hubpages.com/hub/Eggless-Chocolate-Chip-Cookie-Dough-Recipe-VeganDough-Recipe-Vegan Check out this recipe I found! ^

http://www.delish.com/food/recalls-reviews/danger-of-eating-raw-cookie-dough-can-result-in-e-coli

A Glimpse of Heaven on Earth

The early morning chill formed goose bumps on my arms as I stepped outside for a run.  Running used to be my favorite thing.  It was my time alone with God and his creation.  I'd watch the sky change as the morning sun rose.  Cold air always triggers my asthma.  Twenty minutes into my run I started breathing more heavily.  The pressure in my chest increased immensely.  My head pounded with rushing blood; I needed a break.  It was then that I noticed, in the clear blue sky, a hot air balloon.  It sat there perfectly, like a toy on the ceiling of a child's bedroom.  The balloon was ocean blue with white and black stripes.  The sight was breathtaking.  Unfortunately my breath was already short enough with the slight asthma attack.  I stood still and watched it sail.  It moved harmlessly through the open air.  I sighed aloud at the amazing sight. The huge balloon was sailing right over my neighborhood.  How far away was it?  It seemed as if I could reach out and touch it.  It grew closer as I started up running again.  Soon it was so close I could see the glimmer of the flame.  The seemingly little flame flickered on and off shooting hot air into the enormous balloon.  Turning a corner I shook my head.  My neck was beginning to cramp from staring up so long.  Far off in the distance I heard a soft motor.  It resolved into the sound of a helicopter.  The balloon continued silently as the annoying chopper grew near.  Soon they were both in sight, the chopper heading straight for the balloon. My imagination flew like a kite in the Kansas wind.  What if the two collide?  What an explosion they would make.  How much of each would survive?  Would I maybe see two parachutes drifting down? Not likely.  Of course nothing happened.  The chopper stopped in the air as if it were watching the balloon.  The balloon drifted on caring little for the loud exciting spectacle.  Imagine if we all traveled by balloon.  We'd see the world in such a different way.  Life would be moment to moment, catching a glimpse of heaven on earth.

My Day Off

So I realize putting together an apple pie or a batch of peanut butter cookies is a lot easier than putting together a video.

One of those days

I'm exhausted from another long day at the bakery. Most days I'm able to sneak in a sandwich at lunch time, but today a steady stream of costumers flowed in like a line of ants on the back porch patio. The heat only adds to my exhaustion.  93 degrees is not a comfortable temperature, and even more so when I am taking trash to the dumpster.  O how I hate the screeching noise the lock makes on that dumpster door. It cries out as if it too cannot bare the scorching heat.  My hand burns as I lift and drop the heavy lock.  The cruel sun has brought the metal handle to an untouchable temperature. While walking back inside after dumping the trash I try to catch a gust of wind that races across the crowded lot. Everything outside reflects the hot sun: The bakery windows, the car windshields, the bleach white sidewalks. They cast back the sunshine just like our floors inside do after I've mopped them. Though it's fatiguing, I like mopping the floors.  Their copper red color turns to a glossy cinnamon shade. I see my face staring back at me as I run the sloppy mop over the sticky floors. Like a mirror reflection, the gleaming floor catches the windows and even the rare birds that pass by them.  It catches the hanging black ceiling lights and the counter of sweets. But this upside down world lingers but a short while.  As the floors dry up,  the glimmer of lights disappears too.  

picture taken from http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/04/090419170112.htm

Sometimes I imagine the bread in my bakery is alive.  A little scone waits for a buyer.  It sits on a clean white tray among eight other scones. Below it sit the chocolate chip scones.  These are exceedingly popular.  By closing time there are usually no more than three left.  So this little blueberry scone waits with little hope.  Small children peer into the sneeze guard, the glass window.  Some press their noses up against it.  Old ladies press a shaky finder, while hungry business men just give a nod to the one they'd like. The biggest scones go first.  Next are the ones with the most cream cheese. The cream cheese is swirled into the scone like a marble design. Beside it sits a Red White and Blue scone.  Inside this delicious treat you'll find white chocolate chips, blueberries, cream cheese, and cherries.  In this patriotic season with the fourth of July coming up, these scones sell faster than you can say Uncle Sam. But along comes a somebody. They order a coffee, small of course.  For some odd reason no one ever orders a large coffee.  Along with their coffee they ask for a scone, and I give them the little blueberry one.

Homemade Granola Bars

Twenty boxes of SOS DVDs came in the mail this week.  SOS stands for The Sound of the Spirit, a movie my Dad produced last summer.  Check out the movie website at http://www.soundofthespiritmovie.com/  Anyway, seeing the DVDs reminded me of all the baking we did for the movie crew.  My sister Madelyn and I were the catering crew for a team of some 40 cast and crew members.  A daily favorite was our granola bars. It started out with a marshmallow base. The white fluff melted perfectly in the sizzling butter.  The pads of butter were a hot sun in the August sky.  The marshmellows were fluffy clouds, growing bigger every moment.  My favorite part was grinding up all the grains.  With a simple coffee grinder I made hard sesame seeds crumble to dust. I also ground up peanuts and sunflower seeds. The grainy powder mixed in well with the marshmellow.  A cup of oats, and some crushed up graham crackers added more texture, followed by raisins, dried cranberries and chocolate chips. My wrist would burn while I stirred the stiff mixture.  The sticky marshmallow began to cool on my wooden spoon, like a stick of honey blown through a cotton field.  Just like cereal treats, I would then press the sticky substance into a pan.  Usually I would coat my hands with cresco so they wouldn't stick to the granola bars. Like I said this was a healthy favorite.  Try it yourself with a marshmallow base and crushed up graham crackers. You can add any other seeds or grains to your satisfaction. 

Little Black Lumps

  Dusty powdered sugar clouded my face as I whipped it up with some soft butter.  A gush of vanilla extract added some flavor to the frosting.  The icing resulted in a stiff white mixture.  The taste was much to my satisfaction until I noticed the little black lumps.  I soon discovered they were bugs, ants to be precise.  I found little legs and tenticles. The ants were dead of course, but all the same, DISGUSTING. I was completely grossed out and had no trouble dumping spoonfuls of icing into the trash can.  I cant believe I tasted that.  All the same I still  had unfrosted, bland, lemon cookies.  My result was chocolate icing.  At least I knew that was safe.  My family came home with Riley, a blind girl from church.  In a half hour we would all be headed over to a BBQ.  I explained the ant fiasco to Riley.  She approved of the chocolate icing.  Apparently when your blind, bugs come to your attention by other means than seeing them. Riley comes across bugs by feeling them.  While washing dishes centipedes run across her fingers trying to escape the flooded sink. I hate bugs, ants especially. We have them all over the kitchen.  Im not a bug hater, but without a flinch I can swat an ant to death with pleasure.  Nevetheless  baking and bugs are not a good mixture. 
Here is the recipe I was using from the "Baking with the Cake Boss" cookbook
Black-And-White-CookiesChttp://abcnews.go.com/GMA/recipe/cake-boss-black-white-cookies-15136441

Music and Mishaps

I had a great violin lesson today.  My teacher gave me the Mendelson violin concerto to work on this summer.  It's passionate, it's beautiful, it's perfectly written for violin.  My lesson right before work forced my to bring my violin to the bakery.  I didn't mind at all, it gave me a chance to play something for my coworkers.  Performance is the best part about playing an instrument.  Music danced through the dusty, floury bakery air.  I turned the heads of every costumer and every coworker. The sound of music is almost as powerful as the scent of freshly baked cookies. The acoustics in the bakery dining room were kind to me.  They hid all my trip ups and mistakes with their echoey vibrance. 

There's never a dull moment at Great Harvest. Today somebody claimed they gave me their money and I had lost it. I'd never seen the lady in my life nor the money.  My coworker, January, and I both searched around in a panic until the lady found it herself.  The excitement wasn't over yet.  Her two $20 bills had fallen between the register counter and the cold soda vender. "Drat!" I thought inside. There's no way I am fishing those bills out of there.  Luckily Sallymae professionally yanked the vender out and returned the money to its rightful owner. We also had to toss some 36 loaves in the trash today. One of our bakers forgot to add salt.  

I received some beautiful cooling racks as a graduation present from my bakery crew. Believe it or not I've never had my own cooling racks. Cookies are my favorite treat to bake and as far back as my memory goes, I've always just let them cool right on the pan. I remember scraping some, flatter than pancake, cookies off of a pan, like ice on a wintry driveway. The cookies were soft in the middle but hard as the dried cinnamon sugar I often scrape of the bakery floors, on the outside. Now I can say goodbye to dried out, overdone cookies and keep my cookies as fresh and delicate when they come out as they are going in.

From working at Great Harvest, I've discovered that cookies cool best on wax paper, gently laid out on a rack.  This way there isn't a crisscross pattern imprinted on the cookie's backside. At work, the cooling racks are shelves on wheels.  Im sure they weigh a few dozen pounds on their own, but the nifty wheels make them easier to move than a caution cone on an ice rink.  One thing I've thought of trying is stepping up on that rack and gliding across the floor. Im sure it wouldn't be much different than gliding down the grocery isle on a grocery cart. When you put the two together, grocery carts aren't much different than cooling racks.  They both have that wired material set on a pair of wheel.  All the same I am thrilled to finally have my own racks and will be sure to note how my next batch of cookies like them.

A Day At The Bakery

Not everyone finds the odorous scent of honey whole wheat bread greeting them at the door of their work.  Its not only the smell of freshly cooked bread that greets me each morning, but also the nods and smiles of my coworkers. I love working at Great Harvest Bread Company.  Im not a baker, but I do pretty much everything else.  My mornings fly away with slicing, bagging, tagging, and helping costumers.  My bread slicer sounds like a 1916 biplane.  It rattles like an old engine, vibrates like a giant cellphone and adds just another noise to the morning chaos.  My coworkers always heave a sigh of relief when I'm done slicing a batch of bread.  Slicing bread is only a fraction of my day's work. Today found me wiping tables, sweeping and mopping floors, and of course, doing the dreaded dishes.  I pass by the back sinks on my way to dump out the coffee pots.  I breath a sigh as I see the mountain of dishes waiting for me.  Sometimes I think they're mocking me.  They pile up so high that if I go to take one down to wash it, the rest slide like children on a snowy hill into the hot soppy water. I must admit one of the best parts of the day is clocking out.  I slip a soft chocolate chip cookies into my bag and slip out of the bakery.