I made this soup:

If you look hard enough you can see my (unshowered) reflection in that spoon, so consider it you’re reward for the lame title.

As some of you know, I’m currently eh- between jobs.  My unemployment has led to a 10 lb-ish weight gain thanks mostly to Nigella Lawson and my decision to re-watch over 100 episodes of LOST while sitting on my couch wrapped in a slanket (the poor man’s snuggie), Bailey’s spiked coffee in hand, shoving delicious things into my mouth.  This is how I spent my winter, people.  Now spring is a-coming and it’s time to shed that extra weight.  And because I’m an old lady at heart, I subscribe to a bunch of women’s health websites and this healthy and delicious recipe for dilled buttermilk-pea soup recently came across my inbox.  It’s only about 80 calories per serving and it’s high in fiber (read low in Weight Watcher’s points) so it’s ideal to get things back in order.  It was especially appealing to me since I happened to have loads of frozen peas on hand (leftover from the mini Jack Shephard’s pies served at our LOST premiere party) and some buttermilk (from those pumpkin cranberry muffins last week).  I will say I don’t particularly love peas.  I don’t mind them, but they’re certainly not a favorite.  I did enjoy them in this though- I like them better all mushed up and the addition of spinach (I suspect for color) really enhances the flavor.

The best part is that this soup is- one more time- easy PEASy.  It’s the easiest soup I’ve ever made.  Granted, I used store bought stock, which I never do.  It was organic and low sodium so I was able to justify it just this once and I recommend you do the same.  I also got to use the nifty immersion blender I got for Christmas.  My sister was re-gifting some of her wedding presents this year.  No one has ever been so happy to receive a blatantly careless gift as I was when opening that beauty and I am happy to whip it (pun entirely intended) out every chance I get.  If you’re not lucky enough to have a thoughtless sister you can just give this a whirl in the ole’ blender, just remember to leave it only 1/3 of the way full when working with hot liquids.  

Dilled Buttermilk-Pea Soup from Everyday Health

Ingredients

1 can broth, reduced-sodium chicken, 14 ounces

2 cups peas (fresh or frozen)

1 cup spinach

1/4 cup onion(s), chopped

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon pepper, black ground

1/2 cup buttermilk

1 tablespoon dill

sprig(s) dill, with flowers (optional)

Preparation

1. In a medium saucepan, combine broth, peas, spinach, onion, the snipped or dried dill or savory, the salt, and pepper.  (I added two crushed garlic cloves). Bring to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes for fresh peas (5 to 6 minutes for frozen peas) or until peas are very tender. Cool mixture slightly.

2. In a blender, blend the pea mixture, half at a time, until smooth. Return the pureed mixture to the same saucepan. Stir in buttermilk; heat through. If desired, garnish with fresh dill sprigs.

Oh and- did I mention the LOST beach cupcakes?  They were red velvet with a cheesecake center, cream cheese frosting, and a crushed graham cracker dusting:

Posed with the LOST menu:

Hell, while we’re at it- more LOST food:

And yes, that is a “Jacob’s cabin” in the center of the table.  It’s complete with a smoke monster and made from homemade gingerbread courtesy of my also unemployed roommate.  Now you see why I need a healthy soup back in my life.  And a job.

 I bought an ice cream maker.  Did you catch that?  I am the proud owner of an ice cream making machine.  A very high-rated, and Martha Stewart approved ice cream making Goddess.  This.  Could.  Change.   EVERYTHING.  My life (give or take 300 lbs) might never be the same.

I was shopping off of a bridal registry in the housewares section of a department store.  I was trying to decide between an immersion blender and a Pyrex set.  It’s likely that I was mumbling to myself about soups and sauces when the sales associate approached me.  She happened to be a part-time personal chef partial to the immersion blender.  Learning this led to a conversation about soup which somehow led to me explaining garlic scapes to her. 

Before long she was furiously feeling my hand.  She stopped abruptly asking, “no ring?”  I thought, None.  I’m not married, not engaged, not seeing anyone special, still waiting for the guy from the farmer’s market to call me with dinner, but I probably just sourly said, “no.”  She tried to assure me that it was fine. I looked young, I had time.  I explained to her that the lack of a partner was one thing but the lack of kitchen supplies was torturous. 

It’s completely unjust that I have to shop for friends and family buying flour sifters, cupcake devices, and espresso machines that they may never use.  One person, who I’ve never known to so much as boil water to make tea, registered for a dutch oven.  I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know what a dutch oven is for!  They just happen to come in very appealing colors. I explained this to the saleswoman.  She agreed that I was the one who needed an ice cream maker, a juicer, and a kitchen aid not them.  She called me trouble, “You’re a lot of trouble and you’ll be even more trouble when you do get engaged.”  She then suggested I move, throw myself a housewarming party, and register for housewares.

I decided she was right.  Not about the party, but about my deserving an ice cream maker.  That was afterall, the point that she must have been trying to make.  This sort of buying is something I started doing a while back.  A crock pot, a french press, nice muffin tins, things like that.  Purchasing an ice cream maker didn’t even seem that impulsive.  I’ve been researching them since last summer when I became obsessed with the idea of lavender ice cream.  Living in New York City it isn’t even difficult to find lavender ice cream.  In fact, I know exactlywhere to acquire it, but that isn’t the point.  The point is that thinking of lavender ice cream (with honey) made me think of honeyed ricotta ice cream which led to my envisioning goat’s milk ice cream with sour cherries which made me dream of buttermilk sorbets which all meant that it was necessary I buy an ice cream maker.

So here I was, conveniently in the housewares’s department during a big sale with a basketful of kitchen supplies for other people.  Surely, I should at least look.  The ice cream maker that I’d been lusting after was 50% off.  Done.

 My first order of business was ricotta ice cream that would be loosely based on the ricotta ice cream served at one of my favorite, favorite, favorite local restaurants.  They put it in a little terracotta pot (charm factor) and cover the top with some sort of honeyed almond slices.  Before I got a chance to attempt and recreate, I was reading a food website that was having an ice cream recipe contest and I thought that maybe my creation should be more original.  With ricotta still on the brain, I decided to create “cannoli” ice cream.      

I always forget how much I love ricotta.  It’s really the perfect blend of creamy milkiness and tangy cheese.  And it can be dressed salty or sweet.  It was risky creating my own recipe the first time using my ice cream maker, but I did a little research and felt that my ratios were relatively accurate.  This recipe is great because it required no heating or cooking during the massive heat wave we were having, and it’s cold and delicious.  The cream is sweet and indulgent while the subtle lemon going throughout makes it sublimely refreshing. 

In a blender or food processor blend ricotta, cream, and milk.   Add remaining ingredients, except for chocolate, and blend until well mixed.  Pour into ice cream maker and freeze according to manufacturer’s instructions.  Add in chocolate during the last five minutes of  churning; after ice cream is already thick.

That is such an overused expression but perhaps it’s because there’s so much truth in it.  I mean, what would pancakes be without pure maple syrup?  What’s the ice cream sundae without the cherry on top?  What’s my day without a single cup of coffee?  Sometimes it’s the little things that make the big things bearable.

It’s no secret that I’ve been having a rough time these days.  And the thing that keeps me going?  Thursday.  Every Thursday there is a small but beautiful farmer’s market directly outside my office building.  There’s also a rather attractive man who operates one of the produce stalls but that’s an entirely different matter.

Each Thursday, rain or shine, I look forward to it being there.  For some time, I was lured there by the sweet garlic scapes.  Then I became curious about some lemon basil (a single item).  Later there was purple basil (I still don’t understand).  After that there was green garlic, organic honey, and now there seems to be squash on the horizon.   Each week I go out there on my lunch and prowl the entire market. I usually return to my desk with my purse stuffed full of potent smelling stalks and herbs.  I’m still too embarrassed to just bring a proper shopping bag, although I think my new co-workers are finally catching on to the fact that I come back from my “lunch” only to eat lunch at my desk.

Anyway, this farmer’s market is probably the highlight of my work week.  I’m giddy out there.  If you could see the pure and simple joy that the market brings me you would expect that I would smarten up and spend all my waking moments there.   Recently, it’s become a friend date with my only co-worker who is clued in on where I disappear to each Thursday afternoon.  This is a man who is not even particularly interested in such things yet each Thursday he walks in with extra pep in his skip.  He cheerfully smiles big upon seeing me and says, “Thursday!  Farmer’s market, later?” in his jolliest voice.

He knows that it means to me.  He’s also recently discovered the baked goods stall.  You know all the bits that break off when transporting cookies?  The edges and crispy parts?  Well, they call ‘em “cookie crumbles” and sell an entire heaping parchment bag full of them for one single American dollar.  One dollar, people!  One U.S. dollar gets you all different sorts of cookies- chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, etc.  I usually buy with the intention of sharing but that doesn’t always work out.

Last Thursday we embarked on our weekly farmer’s market walk and we were deep in conversation.  Let’s be honest, I was probably deep into my list of complaints while my co-worker friend was politely obliging me, when this man with an outstretched arm, causally offered us a tortilla chip with some sort of salsa piled on top.  We dutifully accepted, mumbled an obligatory “thanks” and kept walking.  As we  moved on I heard salsa man trail off, “it’s made entirely from ingredients that can be found right here at the market…”  It was mid-bite when we both stopped dead in our tracks.  I looked up and said, “oh. wow.  oh. wow, this is good.   Really.  Good.”  Just like that, in incomplete sentences.  My friend turned toward me wide-eyed and said, “This IS good.”  We immediately marched back in hopes of a recipe.  We met chip man, who stood with a knowing look in his eye, and offered us another one.  I shoved it into my mouth while complimenting him and snatching up as many “farmer’s market recipes” as I could.  I professed my love for his salsa and he smiled kindly and said, “happy you like it.”  That’s the thing about those farmer’s market types- they usually know how good they have it,  although I suspect they still secretly love people gushing about it.

The recipe was for “Stone Fruit Salsa with Tomatoes and Basil” and while it included all incredibly common ingredients that I love, respect, and use daily, it’s not the sort of thing that I would have ever been tempted by if I were just flipping through recipes.  There’s just something about combining peaches and tomatoes that wouldn’t have necessarily sparked interest in me.  But I’m wrong for that, and I don’t mind saying so.

It’s so refreshing with just the slightest twinge of tartness.  I opted to use the ginger and it adds the most subtle spice while rejuvenating all the other fruit.  There is also something insanely delightful about the slight bitterness of a perfectly ripe tomato when paired with the sweet mellowness of apricot.  I used a combination of apricot, nectarine, and peach because I couldn’t choose among them.  The lemon creates little bursts of brightness throughout but they are quietly tamed by the underlying cilantro, sweet basil, and mild parsley.  I can only imagine what a wonderful addition this would be to any salad.    It’s perfect for summer.  It was also perfect for me- no measuring!  Just quantities and some instructions for half of this and a bit of that.  I thought the chopping would be a bit of a hassle but the fruit was so perfectly ripe that it was effortless- it just fell away from the pit and practically diced itself.

The only trouble is I might have mentioned to co-worker friend that I’d be making some this weekend and that I’d bring him some.  The unfortunate truth is we ate all.  This is sort of astounding considering my surprise at how large the quantity of salsa it actually made was.  Next time, co-worker friend, next time.  And there will certainly be a next time.  Oh, and if you’re reading this adorable-man-who-works-at-the-Lincoln-Center-Farmer’s-Market-from-some-farm-in-upstate-New-York,  I’m available for you to cook me dinner anytime.

Stone Fruit Salsa with Tomatoes and Basil

by Neil O’Malley

3 ripe but firm stone fruits: nectarines, peaches, or apricots (4-5), or any combination, pitted and diced

3 large tomatoes, cut into large dice

1 red onion, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

20 leaves basil, ripped

1/2 small bunch cilantro, roughly chopped

1/2 small bunch parsley, roughly chopped

1 Tablespoon minced fresh ginger (optional)

3 lemons, juiced

1/4 olive oil

Salt & Pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl.  Let sit for 15 minutes while flavors combine.

*Great with salad greens or underneath grilled fish, chicken, or pork.  If making ahead, add fruit just before serving.

The Herbs

The Fruit

More Fruit

Garlic, Onion, & Ginger

Preparing for a mix

Finished Product

From Sticky, Gooey, Messy, Chewy by Jill O’Connor

Makes 30 – 40 Pops

Ingredients

Directions

Position oven rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 325 degrees F. Set some water to boil.

In a large bowl, beat together the cream cheese, sugar, flour, and salt until smooth. If using a mixer, mix on low speed. Add the whole eggs and the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well (but still at low speed) after each addition. Beat in the vanilla and cream.

Grease a 10-inch cake pan (not a springform pan), and pour the batter into the cake pan. Place the pan in a larger roasting pan. Fill the roasting pan with the boiling water until it reaches halfway up the sides of the cake pan. Bake until the cheesecake is firm and slightly golden on top, 35 to 45 minutes.

Remove the cheesecake from the water bath and cool to room temperature. Cover the cheesecake with plastic wrap and refrigerate until very cold, at least 3 hours or up to overnight.

When the cheesecake is cold and very firm, scoop the cheesecake into 2-ounce balls and place on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Carefully insert a lollipop stick into each cheesecake ball. Freeze the cheesecake pops, uncovered, until very hard, at least 1 – 2 hours.

When the cheesecake pops are frozen and ready for dipping, prepare the chocolate. In the top of a double boiler, set over simmering water, or in a heatproof bowl set over a pot of simmering water, heat half the chocolate and half the shortening, stirring often, until chocolate is melted and chocolate and shortening are combined. Stir until completely smooth. Do not heat the chocolate too much or your chocolate will lose it’s shine after it has dried. Save the rest of the chocolate and shortening for later dipping, or use another type of chocolate for variety.

Alternately, you can microwave the same amount of chocolate coating pieces on high at 30 second intervals, stirring until smooth.

Quickly dip a frozen cheesecake pop in the melted chocolate, swirling quickly to coat it completely. Shake off any excess into the melted chocolate. If you like, you can now roll the pops quickly in optional decorations. You can also drizzle them with a contrasting color of melted chocolate (dark chocolate drizzled over milk chocolate or white chocolate over dark chocolate, etc.) Place the pop on a clean parchment paper-lined baking sheet to set. Repeat with remaining pops, melting more chocolate and shortening (or confectionary chocolate pieces) as needed.  You can criss cross two normal cooling racks- I’ve noticed it takes significantly longer than the recipe says to bake through but this could be because I keep the oven on for so long while trying to carefully get the water bath in.

Refrigerate the pops for up to 24 hours, until ready to serve  (says the recipe, I say they last up to a week or so just make sure they’re well covered so they don’t get freezer burn).

Mixing up the batter

Getting ready to go into the oven

Just Baked

Pretty babies waiting to go back in the freezer

One pop’s ready for his closeup

And the chocolate melts

And the caramel melts too

Casually posing with some toppings

Lay them out there

Drizzle it, just a little bit, come on now drizzle it

Tropical variety

Left to dry

Monster Balls

For me, as for most people, holidays are about time with family.  And for me, time with family has always been time for food.  This is not something I was always necessarily aware of.  In fact, it wasn’t until recently that I realized I couldn’t think of a single holiday without thinking of multiple associated treats.  Growing up and having delicious dishes designated to each holiday was something I took entirely for granted, much in the same way that most of us take family for granted; it’s a given, it’s expected, it’s what we know will always be there.  There is a certain amount of comfort to be found in things that can be taken for granted.

It is in this way that change sometimes feels uneasy.  In my adult life, as I’ve become obsessed with food, I’ve been anxious to introduce new dishes and appetizers to family holidays.  Even when the food is exceptionally good it’s often met with a fair amount of skepticism.  Sure, I’ve successfully sneaked in some biscuits at Thanksgiving and a cheesecake or cookie during Christmas, but with the exception of my penne vodka which simply sassed up the previously existing penne with homemade tomato sauce, I haven’t gotten much to stick.  It seems that good traditions are meant to be continued not reinvented.  It also seems that that my family is relatively resistant to change at their table (little do they know they’re getting deviled eggs with crab for Easter this year).

Change, as it relates to food, is something that we can control; my family can roll their eyes when I try to talk them into mulled wine at the holidays and Mexican corn at BBQs but with family, and what constitutes it, the changes aren’t always up for debate.  Sometimes they just happen.  This year our table at Easter brunch will be down one and not because of a rejected recipe.  Our hearts will be heavy but we will be grateful, that for a long time at least, our family changes were mostly happy additions and at our own will.  There were new babies and recently inducted in-laws, found again family and always there were friends.  It is after all, a great cliché that friends are the family we choose for ourselves. 

Easter has always been a flexible holiday for us.  We’re not terribly religious so there’s not necessarily pressure to be there.  My family has an Easter brunch with or without me.  In college, when Easter was too close to spring break and I didn’t want to travel again I would simply go home with a friend.  Last year, when Easter fell during my week off I decided to spend it in London with a family of friends.  To this family I brought my family’s Easter staple, the bread.  I’m willing to say that of all the holidays and of all the many foods and sacred recipes in my family, Easter bread is the single most coveted.

No one seems to know where the recipe originated yet everyone on my grandmother’s side of the family has the same one and has made it each year for as long as any of them can remember.  This year I just found a photo of my grandmother, uncle, and mother, likely from before I existed, with the bread prominently displayed on the table.  The bread, in this thirty year old photo, looks exactly as it does these days.  It’s remarkably golden on the outside yet has an inner consistency of dense cake.  It’s heavenly rich, perhaps something to do with the dozen egg yolks, and also a bit sweet (2 cups of sugar, I’m looking at you), and it takes really well to being eaten with salty things.  My favorite thing to do with it is to slather it with warm salted butter, add a piece of fresh mozzarella and top with a thin slice of prosciutto.  I’m melting just thinking about it.   You can toast it and pile on the egg salad.  It also likes leftover ham, fried, and paired with sunny side up eggs.  I think my fascination with this bread comes more from its reliable presence in my life more than anything else but it tastes like no other bread. 

What’s more is that Easter Bread is Easter Bread.  It’s considered blasphemy to make it at any other time of the year.  I have one vague memory of my mother attempting it one summer but I think she was just practicing.  She failed, anyway.  Easter bread is for Easter.  That’s how it is; that’s the rule.  Don’t try it any other time; we could disown you.

The other thing about Easter bread is that despite using the same recipe it comes out differently for everyone.  My grandmother’s is the Golden Standard.  Each year she carefully rations my sister who is known to devour multiple loaves in one sitting.  We all used to get frozen loaves to take home (to be eaten only around Easter) and they always took priority over my mother’s fresh loaves.  I remember, as a child, my mother and her friend laboriously and repeatedly trying but rarely succeeding in producing that special loaf.  They’d go shopping for the long hours it took the bread to rise and this always led to disaster.  I also remember long phone conversations between my mother and her cousin, during which they agonized over every detail of their respective efforts, trying to figure out where they went wrong.  Because of this history with the bread and because Easter in London was Easter with my foodie friends, Easter with my bread baking expert friend, the only thing I insisted upon at Easter brunch was Easter bread.   

I packed a tub of Crisco into my suitcase and boarded the redeye.  I arrived on Saturday morning and was soon whisked away to a Tapas dinner.  We had a strict eating schedule and limited time so there wasn’t room for a wasted night of Easter prep.  Don’t misunderstand me- there were weeks of menu planning through emails, of debating exactly how many dips were too many, of ham filled dreams, and of bread baker extraordinaire, Jane, getting peered at through confused faces when she asked various food counters for dry mozzarella (I had requested wet).  Yet somehow, there was little time for the actual food prep and so when we arrived home, flushed with Sangria cheeks, we began our bread making around 1 am. 

Hating recipes, as I do, I hadn’t looked all the way through the bread recipe beforehand.  It turned out that there were a few things I had overlooked.  You know, like how a flour well was involved.  Like how we would be melting butter without a microwave.  Like how the eggs were supposed to be room temperature.  Worst of all, I had wrongly assumed that someone who makes as much bread as Jane would have a mixer with a dough hook.  Upon finding out we were out of luck on this one I repeatedly muttered, “This is bad, this is bad,” while remembering the graveyard of failed Easter Bread, all at the hands of people well equipped with Kitchen Aids.  Jane shrugged undeterred, “Breads have been around forever.  What did the good Italians use before electric mixers?  Love.”  And so into the wee hours of the morning she loved the dough, kneading and kneading until her arms were sore. 

It rose beautifully.  BEAU-TI-FULLY.  We baked it off the next morning (accidentally burning the largest loaf) and sat down to a brunch that became a dinner that ended again in the wee hours of the next morning. Our friend, Cait, arrived shortly after the last loaf came out of the oven.  She came with watery red eyes from early morning salsa making for Scott (her husband stupidly refuses to eat her sausage dip).  She came with candies, cakes, and toting an extra oven rack.  Jane, Caitlin, and I are used to such elaborate well planned meals.  It is our “family” tradition to prepare glorious plentiful meals every time the three of us meet which isn’t that often considering we’ve always lived in different states, now in different countries.  It is in those hours of food shopping, chopping, and waiting for things to simmer that our catching up is done, our intimate secrets are shared and our future plans are made, all with relentless laughter.  All of this, for us, was natural but our guests were put off.  They couldn’t understand why we would put in so much effort; give up so much sleep, use so much time. 

They stopped questioning when they started eating.  We ate sausage dip, guacamole, meat and cheese plates (with us there is always a cheese plate), Easter Bread, boiled eggs, ham with clove and pineapple, Brussels sprouts with mushrooms and a caramelized onion topping, Dutch oven root vegetables with a maple glaze, carrot cake, angel food cake, Italian Bonata cookies, chocolate wheat baskets stuffed with malted eggs, and oh was there chocolate!  English chocolates, American chocolates, nuts and raisins, and dark chocolate speckled with crystallized ginger.  This is only the food I remember a full year later.

Eventually, members of our American families called to wish us “Happy Easter” and laughed uproariously when they realized their dinner was done and cleaned up but we, five hours ahead of them, hadn’t even sat down to the main event yet; we were still too full from previous courses.  In our own time, and several bottles of wine later, we got to it.  I think that day and night was probably the best part of my trip.  Aside from all of the obvious reasons, there was something immensely satisfying about bringing a bit of my real family to my friend family.  And to pass on this satisfaction I share with you my Grandma’s Easter Bread recipe.  Let me just warn you though, Grandma is NOT keen on recipe sharing and I have hesitated about posting this but truly, if she really thought about it, I don’t think she’d mind some sharing among friends. 

Easter Bread

12 cups of unbleached flour (the family insists on Hecker’s)

2 sticks of butter, 1 salted and 1 unsalted or both the same* at room temperature

3 packets of fast rising yeast

1 dozen eggs at room temperature, plus 3 beaten egg whites for brushing

2 cups of sugar

Crisco

Melt the 2 sticks of butter plus 1 heaping tablespoon full of Crisco in a small pan stirring occasionally.  By “heaping” I mean stick a giant spoon in and sloppily pull it out, getting as much stuck around it as you can.  This is probably the equivalent of three massive (not level) tablespoons. Remove from heat until warm NOT hot.

Using a large measuring cup, proof your yeast by adding the 3 packets of yeast plus one teaspoon of sugar to 1 1/4 cups of warm water.

In the meantime, pour out 12 cups of flour and make a well.  Add the 2 cups of sugar to the well.  In a separate bowl beat together the dozen eggs.  Add the egg mixture approx 1 egg at a time to the center of  the well.  Use a fork to stir around the inside of the well (near the freshly added egg) to gradually incorporate the eggs with the flour/sugar.  Pour the warm butter and then the yeast mixture into the well, mixing together without letting any liquid escape out of the well.

When it’s just mixed separate the dough into four balls.  Beat each ball 10-15 mins in a mixer fitted with a dough hook.  If the balls appear very wet, add a little flour.  You can tell if it’s “too wet” if it makes a splashing sound against the side of the mixer.

Use the Crisco to grease a 20 quart pot.   As much as possible, try to set the dough balls next to each other rather than stack them although some stacking might be unavoidable.**  Wrap the pot LOOSELY with plastic wrap, taking care to make sure the wrap does NOT touch the dough and will NOT touch the dough as it begins to rise. My family insists you wrap the pots in bath towels.  Set it in the warmest spot of your house to rise for about 10 hours.

After ten hours, separate the dough into six distinct pieces.  With your hands gently form each piece into an oval, touching it as little as possible as not to deflate the dough.***  Put each piece on a parchment lined cookie sheet (or parchment lined plate) and allow each piece to rise for at least another 45 minutes.  You can loosely throw some plastic wrap over the top and cover with a dish towel but to prevent disruption in rising make sure nothing is actually ever touching the dough directly.  Once your oven is preheated to 350 degrees, bake on bottom shelf.  After ten minutes, remove the bread and use a pastry brush to brush with beaten egg whites.  If egg mixture isn’t spreading well you can add a splash of water.  Return bread to the TOP shelf of the oven and bake for another 10-15 minutes until golden.  Once you remove it from the oven, gently lift the parchment paper off the tray with the bread still on top, and set onto a cooling rack.  Do not remove the bread from it’s baking parchment for 10 minutes.

Extra loaves are great for giving or FREEZING for later.

*You remember my mother’s recipes, don’t you?  I used one of each to increase my odds of getting it right and it worked just fine but if you care to try it alternate ways go for it.

**The family likes one big pot but stacking makes me nervous so I usually divide the dough into two pieces and put each in a slightly smaller (but still large) pot.  After the ten hours I can divide each pot into three loaves.

***This gets sort of complicated but Grandma halves each loaf and loosely twists them together so that when they bake they appear braided.  I’m going to watch her do it this year and I’ll get back to you with more details but if it’s your first go at this I might stick to the oval loaf for best predicted results.

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon minced onion

1 garlic clove, minced

1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomato

1 teaspoon dried Italian seasoning

Salt and ground pepper, to taste

Procedure

Over medium heat, heat oil in a saucepan until hot. Add garlic and onion and cook until translucent.  Add all remaining ingredients and bring to a mild boil. Allow to simmer for 30 minutes.