Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Kiss The Cook, Bang The Baker


Call it a mid-life crisis, call it whatever you want, but I’ve been possessed by a new obsession and it’s baking. I’ve always loved freshly-baked bread and live right by one of the greatest artisan bread bakeries in California, La Brea Bakery. Consequently, the thought of baking my own artisan bread was exciting to me. I stayed away from supermarket mixes like Pillsbury but dabbled with Duncan Hines and Ghirardelli mixes just to get oriented.

Insofar as baking bread, I bought a Rosemary & Basil Ciabatta mix and it turned out okay but I wanted to get more radical. I went on the internet and printed out baking recipes from thefreshloaf.com, a site dedicated to artisan bread baking and has a pretty awesome forum where people trade bread baking tips.

My baking obsession continued with classes at Sur La Table at Hollywood’s legendary Farmer's Market. In the dead of summer I slaved over a hot oven learning how to bake focaccia, braided challah – which reminded me of The Wicker Man because that’s how a challah is designed, and pumpernickel, which is considered in some circles as an artisan rye bread.



You can buy millions of cookbooks but until you’ve attended a few cooking classes you’ll never really learn how to bake bread properly. At my classes I learned all the appropriate tools used for baking: the dough scraper, the standing mixer (for making dough), much faster and more efficient at mixing, egg wash, pizza stones, etc.

The classes also provided valuable perspective on the chemistry needed for successful baking, case in point being that yeast is a bacteria, so using iodized salt will kill the bacteria, so always use kosher salt. For the very same reason distilled water should be used and not tap water, tap water has fluoride, which also kills bacteria. You don’t want to fight yeast, you want to allow it to work in the production of baking.


PIZZA: Pictured above is a pizza that I baked with dough seasoned with basil and sprinkled with olive oil. I used a store bought pizza sauce (sorry) and topped it with parmesan and mozzarella cheeses, mushrooms and lamb sausage to give it a wonderful Middle Eastern accent. I made enough for two pies, both of which were demolished in less than a week.




DESSERT: Pictured above are double fudge brownies with vanilla topping and semi-sweet chocolate chips to give it that Las Vegas dice effect.


Pictured here is a Punk Rock Spice Cake, where I baked a Betty Crocker Spice Cake mix and put in some blue food coloring making the brown cake mix turn green (!). I topped it with pink strawberry icing and even threw in some raisins to make it extra chewy. This one got chomped pretty fuckin’ fast, too.

The kick in baking your own stuff is that you can be as inventive as you want. My Lamb Sausage Pizza was a big hit and it still conformed to the classic pizza format. My next project will be a Green and Red Pesto Pizza with big buffalo mozzarella clouds and I’ll be baking that next weekend. Call for samples!

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Hungarian Kitchen Fight Club


Every Sunday my Uncle Alex would have cooking parties with his sixty-something Hungarian bachelor pals, just about supper time. The boys would come by with their favorite cooking ingredients and cook up a storm in his kitchen while the old Hungarian creaky vinyl albums would be turned up Metallica-level loud. They'd bust out a bitter Hungarian red wine named "Egri Bikaver" (translated: "Bull's Blood").
The cooking party would begin with the sappy records playing and all the dudes talking about the good old days in Budapest and how they miss it. Then they'd brag about all the Hunk chicks they fucked, I got a good chuckle out of that.
In between Cold War locker room tales they'd race in to the kitchen and check up on their dishes: Stuffed Bell Peppers with Rice and Pork, Paprikash Chirke (Chicken Paprika), and of course Goulash (the heavier, the better). Gotta keep that sturdy frame ever sturdier.
Of course the Bull's Blood took it's toll as Hungarian time marches on and the next thing you know some of the boys got a little sarky with each other and fists started flying. Uncle Alex had to step in and stop it-it would get stopped. Alex was a motorcycle mechanic from the old country from way back and even the bikers in New England were in awe of him. His thumbs were all smashed in from mechanical accidents and he walked with a permanent limp from hydraulic jacks mangling his body 100's of times. But he still kept stomping about, and would wind up breaking up countless fights between the guys.
Our dinners would end up with some of the guys bruised from the fights voraciously eating their heavy but tasty Hungarian dishes. These guys cooked like the fucking devils they were. I miss those guys!