Eating from a Memory

In the book Once Upon a Tart Frank Mentesana mentions "eating from a memory". What that means (in my words) is that there are moments in your past where a certain food item stuck out to you. Not only was it solely because of what you ate, but also the moments leading up to, the moment of occurrence, and the moments immediately after; many mini-memories are often involved in that one event to create a whole. Mentesana goes on to say that when you try to recreate that moment by eating the food that you had back then, it's never quite the same and sometimes mars the pleasant memories associated with the past event. Sometimes, you are afraid to eat it again for fear it won't live up to how good you remember it being. Yesterday, that happened to me.

Last year, I remember spending a few hours walking along the paths at the Indianapolis Museum of Art with my mom. Although I brought along a Clif Bar to tide me over, we both were pretty hungry afterwards and decided to see what they had at the museum's cafe. We noticed a basket of cookie with the word "Puck's" on the baggy and I knew I simply had to try them. The variety we bought included oatmeal-raisin, white chocolate-cherry-possibly macadamia, and peanut butter cookies. They were all stellar, but the peanut butter was pure gold. The texture was chewy, moist, and nowhere close to being overcooked and dry, it had a very deep peanut flavor, different than any I had tasted or made before, and was buttery without being greasy. It literally melted in my mouth. Sadly, it was before my blogging days so I didn't think to take a picture of it with the camera we had.

Fast-forward to the present, I was brought a peanut butter cookie from said museum's cafe by my mom. At first I was thrilled, then I looked at the cookie and knew something wasn't right. My mom did say that it wasn't the same as she remembered and deep down I knew it was true, though I still hung on to that memory of the past.


This cookie's outtards looked different and there wasn't "Puck's" on the front. I may be wrong, but I thought there was a cross-hatch pattern on top and the surface had more of a crinkled look. There were whole peanuts in the old cookie, so that hadn't changed.


One bite and I knew it wasn't the same. The peanuty depth was nonexistent, the innards were cakey and dry, and it was too thick. It lacked any buttery taste, the epitome of a well-made cookie. This was nothing but a typical run-of-the-mill cafe cookie that you eat not because it tastes good, but because you are desperate for something sweet.

(Yes, that's right, I eat my cookies with a fork if possible.)


Here you see the innards. The original cookie was about half the height that this was.

There you are, reliving my crushed memories with me. At least I have and had solace in company that has experienced the same feelings and disappointments that I have.

What is one favorite foodie memory that stands out to you above all others?

Daring Bakers and Julia Child's Baguette

This month's challenge, posted on Leap Day, comes from our brilliant hosts Mary from The Sour Dough and Sara of I Like to Cook. Always curious as to what the challenge will be, I was thrilled to see they chose Julia Child's baguette recipe. It made it even better that it was something relevant to what I am doing now, which is learning the art of the baguette.

In the past, my go-to baguette recipe was ACME Baguettes from the book Artisan Baking and even though I always mean to try another, I usually stick with what I know when I need the end product to come out well. The difference between the ACME recipe and Child's recipe is the former has an old dough and poolish, as well as foldings interspersed throughout the rising time, whereas the latter is just a straight dough with two fermentations, form the shapes, then rise and bake. I was curious about this recipe ever since I had watched Julia Child making baguettes with Danielle Forestier in these videos.


After the initial mixing and resting for a few minutes, this is what the dough looks like. Very shaggy and wet, but you can tell it's not an entirely soft dough that lacked any shape.


After the kneading time, which took me 20 minutes and created an ache in my right bicep (yes, I have been far too lazy...), I produced a gluten-developed dough with a taught skin, though still soft. (This was after the kneading, a brief rest, and 1-2 more minutes of kneading. It's amazing how that short resting time really made a difference in the texture of the dough.)

I do not know why I couldn't tell this picture had a pinkish hue when I was editing it. Annoying.

After the first rising time of 3 hours, the dough pretty much tripled in size and developed a lightness when you gently press it.

There was a second fermentation, about 1 ½ hours, after which:


The dough is weighed into three equal pieces, shaped into a ball, and left to rest for a bit.

After the folding session, which is done to develop a taut skin and help hold the shape.

The baguettes are placed into my makeshift couche and covered to rise. (I pressed and sprinkled the towel with brown rice flour, as I find it keeps the dough from sticking better than regular flour does.)


I then moved one piece onto my makeshift baker's peel, also sprinkled with rice flour, and proceeded to slash and brush with water. (I need to work on my slashing skillz so it won't deflate the dough as much as it did here.)



The first is a picture of the baguettes during the last water-brushing time, the second is right after the baguettes finished baking.



A close-up on the crust. Remember the loaf of bread insect in Alice in Wonderland? This is what the insect version of a baguette would look like.


Fast forward past my patience, aka the cooling time, I was anxious to see the crumb development so I sliced and stared in awe. Look at the webbing!

I was very please with this recipe and am glad it was chosen. The finished product produced a crispy crust, magnificent innards with a slight fermented smell and a beautiful off-white color due to the long fermenting process. The flavor was great, too. Thanks again to Mary and Sara!

Be sure to read the other Daring Baker's blogs and see what they thought of it. The link is on the sidebar.

I'll leave you now with two closing pictures to whet your appetite until next month! ;)

The Panettone That Couldn't

The following took place on Christmas Eve of December 2007.

Three years ago (2005), I made my first panettone from The Bread Book by Linda Collister and Anthony Blake. Looking back on it, my success was due in part to constant bread baking despite being a beginner, and going into it with no apprehension because I was a beginner. Basically, beginner's luck. This time, however, wasn't quite like that first, successful experience.


The deep, yellow hue is because of the many egg yolks in the recipe. This is an extremely rich bread.

After the butter was kneaded in.

Kneading in the sultanas.

A somewhat sticky, otherwise smooth ball of dough.

Fast-forward past the first two risings, the dough is re-shaped into a ball and placed in the greased 1 gallon coffee tin.

After it has risen, the dough is slashed and a pat (to be technical, a tablespoon) of butter is pushed ¾ of the way into the middle.

You would think that I'd be stoked at the incredible rise and magnificent, Everest-like grandeur of my panettone, but just wait until...

What you are seeing is what I prefer to call "Epic Failure". I'm thinking it wasn't cooked long enough to stabilize, which was evident by the soggy innards. Sigh. The only way to fix it was to place it on a baking sheet and continue to bake it.

The resulting texture was dry and straw-like, though still buttery and decently flavored. I can't even describe the texture of the crust.

In the end, I noted what went wrong so at least I came away with answers to any questions that may arise in the future. Despite the epic failure, it was still enjoyed by one and all.

And to all, a goodnight.