Simple Country Pleasures

Stretching toward spring

Spring comes slowly to the north. It creeps up the valleys where rivers once sheathed in ice now rush swift and black with melt water from the deep woods.  This morning the back field is framed with the last remnants of melting snow. Although the midday temperatures rise to the fifties, the mornings are still cool, the air thin and clear as water. Along the dirt road, the hard packed mud is pocked with prints – deer and moose, coyotes and the occasional lynx.  We rarely see them, but when we do, we are all startled, and freeze wide-eyed for a few moments, staring, and then they disappear into the dark woods like ghosts. 

The days lengthen; the sun stretches across the broad sky, and the hills beyond are blushed pink with new swelling buds.  Popples on the edges of the fields and the shoulders of the roads are furred with catkins that will soon litter the ground, pushed off the bare limbs by new leaves. As the temperatures climb, crackling wood fires are forsaken for morning coffee in the backyard as the sun breaks above the tree line or a few moments of rest in the lee of the garage as we bask in the caress of new warmth.  The kitchen is crowded with what grandson Silas identified as a grow operation.  Folding tables, covered with trays of new seedlings, line the windows and the dogs are frustrated that their view of the world is blocked by these silly human efforts.  There are Brussels and leeks, peppers and tomatoes, onions and herbs, bright sprouts of summer pushing up through the dark soil, stretching toward spring, all the result of hours spent pouring over the bright seed catalogs during the dark of January.

The run-off from melting snow in the woods beyond the edge of the dun fields has eased, but the ground is still spongy beneath our rubber boots. We make our way cautiously around the ragged garden beds, inspect the blueberries and raspberries for winter kill and moose nibbling, take stock of mulch and shavings, and inspect the rock piles from last summer with new walls and boundaries in mind.  The dogs stand, noses in the air, ears cocked, staring into the distance, imagining new adventures.  Bruce and Emerson spent one whole day clearing the asparagus and iris beds where new green pushes up through the dark, cold soil.  They loaded the dead leaves into the wheelbarrow and piled them on the compost, then climbed ladders to the roof, much to Kasey’s horror, to inspect the shingles and chimneys for winter damage.

Emerson is a busy boy whose heart is filled with adventure and the outdoors.  He likes high places, he told his grandfather, but clung tightly to Bruce’s hand during their lofty adventure, and warned that they should stay away from the edge because it is so high. And, he was glad to be on the ground, walking the dogs, taking delight in the gravelly mud and finding wedge shaped rocks perfect for axes. It was a good day.

Spring was late this year, or so it seemed, and has come in fits and starts, first warm then chill. For a month, we have gone to bed with bare grass in the front yard where the afternoon sun bakes it warm, and then risen in the morning to find the world coated in snow that fell silently throughout the night.  We made it through March only because of Salmon Brook Valley Maple Producers’ great Maine Maple Sunday breakfast.

While Vermont may be known for its syrup, we find this locally grown product every bit as good as any from the Green Mountain state, and we like that it is local. We packed my mother up in the car and made our way across the valley to the narrow dirt road that traverses a ridge of maples linked with tubing that feeds the sap downhill to the sugar house.  The Connelly clan does a stunning job with this breakfast, making everyone feel welcome by serving up terrific pancakes and warm organic syrup, maple baked beans and plenty of good Maine coffee, all at a remarkably low price. And for those, who aren’t quite sated after that feast, they also offer vanilla ice cream with warm maple syrup on top!  It’s a wonderfully indulgent feed served to guests who crowd into the series of dining rooms that are steamy and sweet with the aromas of boiling sap and wood smoke.  The company sells syrup and other maple products throughout The County, and we try to make sure we are never without a quart of the sweet stuff that we use through the year.  Of course, it’s easy for us to run up the road and pick up syrup, but for those farther afield, they offer mail order with details available by emailing info@ MaineMapleSyrup-SBV.com.

Although, this breakfast is a sure sign of spring, we are restless with the continuing cold and snow and anxious to get on with the procession of chores and projects that move us forward through the summer. There’s the greenhouse to set up, clearing dead plants from the herb beds, pruning winter kill from roses, tuning the tiller to open up the rows for early plantings, but most of all, harvesting new foods to spark our jaded appetites.  Last night’s supper was Roasted Vegetable Pizza, which I made often as the kids were growing up, and it meets all the requirements for an early spring meal: easy, light, and delicious. 

It starts, of course, with the crust, which is easy if there is Light Bread dough in the refrigerator, but even if there is not, pizza dough is among the easiest doughs to make because all it needs is 3 cups of flour, 1 and 1/3 cup of hot water, 2 and ¼ teaspoons of yeast, and ¼ teaspoon of kosher salt.  Bruce made it this week, dumping the water, flour, salt and yeast into the pan of the bread machine and setting it on the Dough cycle.  While the bread was processing, he preheated the oven to 400 degrees and chopped the veggies:  two baby eggplant, skin on, sliced lengthwise in half-inch thickness; one yellow pepper seeded and sliced in rings; two red onions quartered’ a cup and a half of mushrooms sliced; and a cup and a half of broccoli florets, coarsely chopped.

Combine the veggies in a large bowl, then mix together 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar, 1 teaspoon dried thyme, and ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper.  Place all the veggies into a large baking pan and drizzle with the oil and vinegar mix, then pop it into the oven and roast for about 20 minutes, or until the veggies are tender.  Remove from oven and set aside. Turn oven temp up to 500 degrees.

Now take the dough and divide into four sections and roll out to eight-inch circles.  Sprinkle a cookie or pizza sheet with cornmeal, and place the dough on the pan as they will fit.  For starters, we top the dough with about a quarter cup of our homemade spaghetti sauce, but any good sauce will do, right up to a half inch from the edge of the dough.  Sprinkle up with shredded mozzarella cheese – we use low-fat – and then pile on the veggies.  Now bake in the hot oven for about 12 minutes. You should know by the smell when it is done.  Remove, cut and enjoy!

While such meals satisfy our longing for fresh produce from our gardens, as they days lengthen, we begin to dream of new greens: dandelions, lambs quarters, and the queen of forage crops, fiddleheads, to add to salads, omelets, soups, or just eat on their own.  Dandelions come first. For a few years we gathered enough dandelions to give away bagsful to some of the older residents here in town, but in recent years, we are lucky if we can find time to harvest enough for a few meals of our own. As for the fiddleheads, we leave that wet rigorous work to a young friend who makes a few dollars every year seeking out, harvesting, and selling the tender fronds.

Our ancestors regularly foraged for these wild plants as a way to supplement spring meals when the pantries and larders were thin, but many people today don’t know the pleasure of gathering these wild foods. It’s always a toss-up as to whether dandelions or fiddleheads will come in first, and often we find ourselves scrambling to take advantage of both.  While it’s always important to use care as to where one harvests wild foods, and proper care must be taken in processing it,   we are lucky that dandelions grow all around us and we have a friend who harvests fiddleheads which spares us from the hard, cold work such a venture can be. Thus, dandelions become our plant of choice, and we wait until Brock delivers fiddleheads to us rather than stalking them ourselves.

Harvesting dandelions is easy, and usually Bruce undertakes this job. Clad in rubber garden boots and armed with a bushel basket and a sharp knife, he starts at the far edge of yard where lawn meets field.  This is where the grass is the shortest and it gets plenty of water from melting snow so the greens come in early and big.  Dandelions are especially healthful, high in Vitamin C and carotenoids and Vitamin A that all have a variety of benefits.  Most of us think of dandelions as nuisances, but the toothed greens that give the plant its name – literally lion’s teeth – are delicious in a salad when very small and equally good boiled as a pot herb as they grow larger.  One critical point is that the greens must be picked before buds or blossoms develop or they become too bitter for all but the most diehard fans. 

To pick dandelions, first scope out the spot where you’ll dig, and if necessary, get permission from the property owner.  It’s also a good idea not to pick too close to things like roadways or power lines where there might be chemicals in the soil and on the plant.  We use only the leaves, so Bruce cuts the plant off just at the soil line, shakes off the dirt and plops them into the basket.  We find it takes about a half bushel of greens for a feed big enough for the three of us. We’ve even gone as far as picking the blossoms and making wine, but that is another tale!  If I am just picking leaves for salad, I choose the smallest and most tender leaves, usually from the center of the plant, and separate and wash them twice in cold water and then set them on paper towel to drain before adding them to salads.

For boiling as pot herbs, the greens get a first wash on the same screen where we wash lettuce, beets, and carrots later in the summer, and we use a fine mist spray from the hose.  Let the greens drain a bit and then bring indoors. My great grandmother always said that dandelions need two boils to get them table ready, and I continue with this practice.  I first rinse the plants again in cold water, then put them into a large kettle, and add about two inches of water. Cover, place over medium heat, and bring to a boil. Stir the greens once or twice then drain thoroughly.  This first boil helps eliminate some of the bitterness that people often complain about.

For the second boil, I dice a piece of lean salt pork, about one-inch thick by two inches long, and then add it and a tablespoon of olive oil to a large pot. For vegetarians, add another tablespoon of olive oil.  Place over medium heat and slowly render the salt pork – you want the salty-smoky flavor.  Sometimes I add a medium onion minced, but more often, I’m happy with just the greens.  When the lard is rendered, toss in the parboiled greens and add water to cover.  Bring to a gentle boil, cover and reduce heat.  Cook for 10 to 15 minutes, drain and serve with good vinegar or butter.

There are those who say that dandelions can be frozen and eaten throughout the winter, and that may well be true, but for us, the digging and cleaning and boiling of the first batch of greens marks the real beginning of spring, and we do not want to dilute that joy by making dandelions part of our regular diet. So when you reach the point where you think spring will never come, get out a knife and a basket and go pick some of these spring greens. They are well worth the effort.

Bread and other yeasty things

Yeasty things

My daughter doesn’t eat store-bought white bread. As a small child, Kasey patently refused, and as she grew older, she would either choose wheat or whole grain bread or politely decline. She carried her preference right into adulthood, and for most of her married life, her family has eaten only homemade. The blame clearly lies with me, and it’s a blame I’ll take willingly, even proudly.

 Like so many other first-time mothers, when my daughter was born, I was determined to ensure that she ate the best that I could manage.  With a limited budget and plenty of time, I took to making much of what we ate from scratch, and that included the bread we used for toast, sandwiches, and along with our main dishes at the supper table.  Over the years I have learned to make everything from this light bread to bagels, the result of input from friends Bobbi and Toby who I knew from college and my days in Boston. It was all part of our efforts to eat healthy at a reasonable cost.

With a few exceptions, we have always been fortunate to have a large enough yard to grow most of the vegetables we ate, and we traded labor and skills – guitar lessons, barn building, sewing – for those we could or did not grow.  We raised chickens for eggs and turkeys for the table, and the small rural town in which we lived was populated by a handful of farmers from whom we bought milk and much of the meat we ate. There were orchards nearby where we could buy berries, apples, peaches and plums, and we spent long hours canning, pickling, jamming and jellying.  But bread and other baked goods, that was a different story.   There was a co-op that took orders from members once a month, and many of the dry goods we needed came organic from that, so making my own breads, pies, cookies, and cakes seemed natural. While sweets added to our diet, bread was more essential so I started there.  I never dreamed it would start a family tradition that Kasey would embrace. 

Bread is an essential part of the human food experience worldwide. Scientists have found evidence of bread – a paste-like concoction of grains and water, likely baked on hot stones – as part of the diet of populations living 30,000 years ago, and the craft has evolved over time, with bakers an essential part of every civilization. No matter the form, each culture has had some sort of bread.  Baking bread is simply a matter of finding the right combination of grains, liquid, leavening agents to produce food, so all the recipes for bread have common roots, but finding the right one for your family is essential.  

For daily bread, ease of preparation, flavor, and versatility is critical, and when I first began making bread, each batch was a matter of trial and error.  Some worked; some didn’t.

I tried sour dough, potato bread, salt-rising, and a multiple of others before I finally found an all-purpose dough that is perfect for everyday loaves, dinner and cinnamon rolls, and pizza dough.  The initial recipe came from Stillroom Cookery written by Grace Firth and published by EPM Publications in 1977, and I found it on the shelves of our tiny local library. It was a trove of practical cooking and making your own food, but more than anything else, it set the standard for my bread making, although I must admit it has been modified over the years.

Light Bread, as it is called and Firth identified as “the work horse, the everyday bread of many American homes” is not tremendously different than other white bread recipes that I have found over more than three decades of regular bread baking. I suspect it is the same basic dough that my great grandmother used for her bread baking, and the heady smell of the combined ingredients always brings me back to her kitchen was dominated with a large gas stove and a window lined with bright red geraniums. Although I have modified this recipe to suit my purpose over the years, the essentials, yeast, sugar, water, milk, oil, and flour, are unchanged.  It’s not a quick bread to make, taking five to six hours and lots of kneading, but it is well worth it.

Bread making was a Saturday morning activity, done along with the weekly laundry.  It is part of the process of homemaking.  With the first load of clothes and bedding sloshing around in the washer, I gathered the ingredients.

LIGHT BREAD INGREDIENTS and DIRECTIONS

Into a large glass or ceramic bowl, never metal because it seems to slow the marriage of yeast and sugar, measure and combine with a wooden spoon:

1 package of yeast or 2-1/2 teaspoons bulk yeast

1 cup warm water, and

1 teaspoon sugar (or honey).

The mix would foam and bubble as warm water activated the yeast that then fed on the sugar.

Next add in three cups of room temperature milk, or three cups water to which a half cup of dried powered milk has been added.  Add:

4 teaspoons kosher salt

4 tablespoons sugar (or honey)

4 tablespoons canola oil

Mix together gently, and then stir in 10 cups of all-purpose flour, a couple cups at a time, and mix until well blended. Now turn onto a large floured bread board.  A dedicated bread board is well worth having as it serves a variety of baking purposes, but make sure you use it only for bread, and it is not essential. A clean counter top dusted with flour works just as well.  Knead in about two more cups of flour, a little at a time, and continue kneading until it is smooth, satiny and elastic.  Firth claimed that well kneaded dough had “the sheen of a baby’s bottom,” an image that appealed to me as a new mother, and that description has done me well over the years.  Each baker seems to find their own sense of when dough is ready, and it comes with practice and trial and error. 

Hand-kneading such a large batch of dough is not for the faint of heart; it can be physically grueling, and in recent years, I have let the bread machine, set on the dough cycle, do this difficult part.  When I first began making bread, I found kneading physically satisfying and a good way to work out frustration as well as psychologically rewarding: I had done it with my own hands.  If you choose this approach, add the ingredients to the pan in the order indicated in the machine’s manual. 

This bread takes three risings to get the right texture.  If I use the machine, I let the bread knead and rise once, then stop the cycle and turn the dough out. This counts as the first rising. I knead it slightly, then grease the top lightly with oil, and put it in a lightly greased bowl, cover with a tea towel, and set it in a warm place to rise to almost double.

If I am kneading by hand, I lightly grease the dough and turn it into a greased bowl, cover it with a tea towel and let rise to double – usually about 1-1/2 hours in a warm place. When it has risen, punch the dough down and knead briefly, then grease, cover, and set to rise again until almost doubled.  Two risings

In years past, that warm space has been both iffy and critical.  Too cool and the dough rises slowly; too warm and it rises too fast.  You want to watch the bread and let it rise only until about doubled in size.  This is the second rising.  The time can range anywhere from an hour to two hours.  Our new stove has a “proofing” feature, which warms the oven to the perfect temperature for rising bread, and I love it.  There’s little worry about whether it will rise or not.  Generally it has risen enough when you can poke your finger into the dough and it doesn’t spring right back.

After the second rising, for both machine and hand preparation, I turn the bread onto the lightly floured bread board, knead briefly, and then divide into five pieces.  Depending on the week’s menu, all five pieces might get shaped into loaves, but more likely, one will be shaped and wrapped in a plastic bag for refrigerator storage as pizza dough, while the others will be shaped into loaves.  Two of these are usually wrapped in plastic wrap and then in freezer bags to be stored for future use when I don’t have time to bake from scratch but need bread. I’ve even made fried dough, the kind you get at the county fair, as a midwinter treat for the kids when they were younger, but that’s another recipe.

The remaining two pieces are shaped into loaves and placed into greased pans, greased on top, covered, and let to rise to double again, before baking at 450 degrees for about 30 minutes. Nothing beats the aroma of baking bread, and be prepared for men, children and dogs to come hovering around in the kitchen while it bakes.

Bread is done when the top is golden brown and sounds hollow when it is lightly thumped with your knuckles.  Place the loaves on a rack and cool for a few minutes before turning out the loaves.  Let these cool before cutting; no matter how good, hot bread is hard to cut!

Potato Rolls

Nothing is quite as wonderful as fresh, fragrant rolls fresh from the oven. Whether for Sunday dinner or as an accompaniment to a good soup of chowder, rolls are a staple, and for me, old fashioned potato rolls are among the best.  I’m not sure where the original recipe came from. Maybe it was in one of the antique cookbooks I collect, or perhaps from a great aunt who lived on a potato farm in northern Maine, or maybe even from the green hills of Vermont.  Its origin doesn’t matter, as most potato rolls have the same basic ingredients and an easy process which makes them quick to make and great to eat.  

Potatoes have been used in breads and rolls for centuries. I remember my great grandmother, who was of Irish ancestry and came to America via New Brunswick and the shoe shops and fabric mills that flourished in New England a century ago, saving the water from boiled potatoes and later adding it to bread dough. She believed that the water helped the yeast leaven the bread, and there is little to dispute that belief.  Potato flour is now available in most markets, and there are several good organic brands, but until processed foods became popular in the middle of that last century, many housewives, especially those who lived on farms where potatoes were plentiful, made their own flour, a relatively time-consuming chore that must have been well worth it to undertake the labor. Potatoes do add nutrients and flavor, and that is part of what makes these rolls are so good.

While my original recipe, a list of ingredients on a scrap of paper, made enough rolls for a whole family, with just two of us home now, I’ve cut the ingredients in half so I get eight terrific rolls per batch, and the results are just as good.  On holidays, when the family gathers around the table, I double the amounts, and either way, there are never any rolls left over.

Ingredients

 

1 ¾ cups all-purpose flour (you could substitute white whole wheat)

1 teaspoon yeast (not quick yeast)

1 tablespoon potato flour

1 ½ tablespoons nonfat powdered milk

1 tablespoon sugar (I don’t substitute honey because the flavor isn’t quite as good)

¾ teaspoon  kosher salt

2 tablespoons soft unsalted butter (yup, butter, but you could use a good vegetable margarine)

1/3 cup lukewarm water

¼ cup lukewarm skim milk (whole is okay; we just use skim to cut fat)

Directions

As with bread, I let the bread machine do the work here, so I put the ingredients in the pan in the order recommended by the manufacturer and use the Dough setting.  I also let the machine go through the first rise, which is about an hour and a half in my case.  While that is processing, I can take care of other dinner preparations, and lightly grease an eight-inch cake pan with canola oil.  You can do the kneading by hand, if you have the energy, and again you are looking for a supple dough with a smooth satiny look to it.  These rolls need only two risings.  After the first rise, I turn the dough onto a lightly floured board and gently shape it into a ball. 

With a sharp knife, I cut the dough in half, and continue cutting each subsequent piece in half until I have eight pieces.  Again, I gently roll the pieces into balls and place them in the cake pan – seven around the outside edge and one in the middle.  Cover with a tea towel and set in a warm place to rise to double.  About halfway through the rise, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

When the rolls have doubled, bake on the middle rack for about 12 to 15 minutes, or until golden brown.  Remove from oven and cool on a rack briefly then turn onto a plate.  If you like, you can brush the tops with butter, or serve them plain. You may have to hold off the family with one hand just to get these to the table.

A few final thoughts

Any time you make bread, you should use the best ingredients you can buy. In my early days of baking, I bought my flour through the co-op, which I still do now when I can, but I always try to use King Arthur brand, because I find it most reliable and I get the best product.  I buy my bulk yeast at a nearby Amish store and keep it in a glass canning jar in the fridge, and it’s also available through King Arthur.  You can substitute good honey for the sugar in most recipes, and I often do now that I have a good source from friend Sigrid. It’s a light, nicely flavored honey that works well in an equal conversion: one teaspoon honey for one teaspoon honey, one tablespoon.  It’s really only when you are using quantities larger than a cup that you have to adjust, but that’s not important here.  I use organic canola oil, and if using dry milk, I use organic from the co-op.  

Even if you can’t use all organic, nothing beats homemade bread, and with practice, anyone can learn to make good bread that will satisfy body and soul.  In fact, Kasey used to say and still holds the belief that store-bought white bread is like eating plastic.

Baking bread offers many rewards. That Kasey has chosen to take up the family tradition of bread making is evidence not only of the culinary value in making one’s own bread but also the role that it plays in establishing home. And, it’s always wonderful to be able to pull a fresh loaf of bread, a pan of rolls, or a homemade pizza from the oven just as guests arrive. There is no better way to say “Welcome to our home!”