Christmas!

This Christmas, I am thankful for my geeky family and for extended family and friends who understand just how eccentric we really are. 

An hour after breakfast saw me sitting in the kitchen with my feet up, drinking sinfully rich hot chocolate made in the hot chocolate maker my husband gave me, (milk and dark chocolate chips, with whipped cream.) while reading the book my sister, who has read this blog, sent me.

 

This book is full of all kinds of geeky facts such as the role of salt in yeast breads or what exactly makes gluten.  I kept squealing and reading parts to my husband, happily as geeky as I am, who enjoyed them every bit as much.  This book is going to come with me back to school when it starts up again, so I can show it to the biology teacher in the room next door, who has a special interest in microbiology.  (I tell my students that baking cookies, because they use chemical leavening agents, is kitchen chemistry, and yeast bread baking is kitchen biology.)

One thing I loved was finding the instructions for using wild-caught yeast (learning to my great surprise and fascination that what really matters is not just the yeast, but the bacteria caught in the process).  Calculating the time required to make a starter for this purpose, and recognizing the need to stir the mixture several times a day, I realized I'd better get it finished while school was still out, or I'd have a much more difficult time once school started again.

And here it is:  the start of my starter attempt!  (Behold the proof of my geekiness in the form of the notebook set to record the progression of this scientific experiment . . .)  I'm excited to see what I can do once the starter is really completed.  My husband is dubious that we can catch any sort of yeast and bacteria in the desert in winter, but time will tell.

Like many people I know, Christmas is a time of food and family, not necessarily in that order.  Here is a sample of the things we made this year for the holiday, a bit simpler than normal, since my school teaching schedule really cut down on the time I had available.

The Junior Taste-tester and the Master Kitchen Helper worked with me to make the gingerbread cookies.  The round iced ones are lebkuchen, a recipe my family picked up in Germany when I was a child, which must be carefully aged for a month to blend the flavors just right.  The tiny ones are pfefferneuse, a Danish cookie made with baker's ammonia, the existence of which I discovered only two years ago.  My husband has nicknamed them "Scooby Snacks", because they are tiny bits of buttery, spicy flavor, and very addicting.  The ones half dipped in chocolate are sugar cookies, made with peppermint extract in lieu of vanilla extract, with crushed candy canes mixed into the dough.  This was an experiment I did for the first time this year and while it was tasty by itself, the cookie was elevated to a step shy of genius after being dipped in a mixture of melting chocolate and semi-sweet chocolate.  The candy in the middle is dipped in the same mixture, with a center based on peanut butter.

On my kitchen counter are also some of my crackers, made with rye flour, at which my college daughter (who really does look very similar to the princess on "Brave", with slightly shorter hair) rolls her eyes in ecstasy and exclaims they are the best things ever.  Of course we still have Holiday Crescent Rolls left over from our Christmas Eve dinner, but I bet they'll be gone after breakfast tomorrow.  We still have a good deal of our traditional pumpkin pie in the refrigerator, as well as some chess pie, which I made for the first time this year.  ("Mom, what on earth is a 'chess pie'?"  "Good question, hun . . .")  And there is enough of the cheap ham I managed to doctor sufficiently to seem like a much more expensive ham for another meal.

All in all, we've had a very tasty and satisfying Christmas.  To my readers, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, wherever you are and whatever flavors you enjoy at this time of year!

The Reason For the Season

Prickly Pear Candy

Nope, it's not bread.  But I figured if I was going to make this foray into the unfamiliar world of candy-making, I'd go ahead and document the exercise.

In the effort to try to make a desert Southwest-specific type of culinary treat to send out to certain parties for Christmas, I decided to look up recipes for prickly pear candy.  After some searching, I decided upon this one, called Prickly Pear Delight, (the Junior Taste-Tester suggested "Desert Delight" would sound more alliterative) as the most intriguing.

Here we go!

Ingredients:

4 cups sugar
4.5 cups prickly pear juice, divided
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 1/4 cups cornstarch, divided
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 cup powdered sugar

First, oil the pan you are going to use.  The recipe suggested a 9-in square pan, but as I didn't have one, I made do with what pan I did have.  (Something to the tune of 9x11, I think.)  After oiling the pan, line it with plastic wrap and oil the wrap.  (THIS IS IMPORTANT.  I tried covering my candy with plastic wrap a little later and found out how much it really sticks to plastic wrap.  Fortunately, it only affected a small area.)

In a heavy saucepan over medium heat, combine the sugar, 1.5 cups of the prickly pear juice and lemon juice.  Stir over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture boils.

Reduce heat and simmer gently, without stirring, until the mixture reaches the softball stage (240 degrees Fahrenheit on a candy thermometer, according to the recipe.  My candy thermometer marked softball at 235, but I went ahead and hit the 240 mark, just in case).  Remove the pan from the heat.

Because I only had one pan I was willing to trust with making candy, due to materials and size, I had to fudge a little.  After the mixture was at the required temperature, which took over an hour, I poured it into a different saucepan and placed it over the tiniest flame just until I saw bubbles again.  I was a bit concerned that moving it to a cold pan might affect the way the chemistry worked and did this to hedge my bet, so to speak.

After washing and drying my original saucepan, I continued.

In a large heavy saucepan over medium heat, stir together 1 cup cornstarch and the cream of tartar. Gradually stir in the remaining 3 cups juice until no lumps remain. Stir constantly, until the mixture boils and is a thick, gluey paste.

I did not take a picture of it at this stage, because it really was a gluey paste, and I was rapidly trying to proceed to the next step . . .

Slowly pour the hot, sweetened juice and lemon juice syrup into the cornstarch mixture, stirring constantly. (This does take a bit of elbow grease.)  Reduce the heat and simmer, stirring often to prevent sticking, for about 1 hour, or until the color deepens.

My daughters all had fun looking at the mixture at this stage.  They said it looked like some kind of fantasy bog.  (Gu-LUP, gu-LUP . . .)

Although my picture doesn't show it well, I do remember noticing at one point as I stirred that the color had deepened, which surprised me, because I had neglected to pay attention to that part of the directions.  It was a comfort, then, to reread the directions after an hour of boiling and realize, "Oh, that change in color was supposed to happen?  I guess I'm at the right stage, then."  (Must be doing something right, right?)

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and spread evenly. Cool to room temperature and let stand, uncovered, overnight to set.

(This is before I made the error in judgement of trying to cover it with plastic wrap.)

It was a hopeful thing to notice, after pouring the candy into the pan, that the Junior Taste-Tester and the Senior Master Kitchen Helper were busily licking the saucer on which I had placed my stirring spoon . . .

Sift the confectioners sugar and the remaining ¼ cup cornstarch onto a large cutting board. Turn the candy out onto the prepared board.

It was something of a trick to actually maneuver the candy out, using the plastic wrap, because it is a very flexible substance, somewhat resembling finger Jello, but because it was oiled, the wrap came off easily.

Cut the candy into 1-inch squares with an oiled knife.  I found myself having to refresh the oil on the knife every two or three cuts.

Roll pieces of the candy in the sugar mixture to coat well. Store in an airtight container with sheets of waxed paper, dusted with the sugar mixture, separating every layer.

So this is what it looks like when it's first made!

As it sits, a good deal of that powdered sugar gets absorbed in the candy's inherent moisture, so I have no idea how well it will last like this.  At least it ought not stick . . . I hope . . .

The candy melts in the mouth (I thought it would be more chewy), with a flavor which is strong, but very, very prickly pear.  Overall, I think the experiment was a success.

I'm crossing my fingers that it will last without refrigeration . . . but as the recipe does not mention it must be refrigerated, hopefully it will survive its journey into parts unknown.  (Or, at least, unmentioned.)  Priority Mail, here I come!

Scottish Baps

Back in May, my husband headed out to London for a couple of business conferences.  We decided it was worth the money for me to take a few days off and join him for the interim between the conferences.

Our trip to London was great for many reasons.  It was fun to explore all the streets and places we'd heard about on History Channel specials or read about in classic literature.  (*ahem*  Sherlock Holmes . . .)  It was also great for the exposure to the bread.  Sausages on nice, chewy rolls, Danish-style pancakes (basically a giant crepe), so many lovely artisan breads at the bakery--it all seemed a bit like Heaven.

In the middle of it all, I learned I've actually been using Baps properly . . . sort of.  Baps are a recipe I found in a Scottish cookbook some years back, when I was still trying to re-create the Middle Ages and figured many traditional recipes from Scotland would probably be similar to what they ate then.

The note by the recipe states they are usually found on the breakfast table.

They take too long to rise for me to try to make them before breakfast, but I discovered fairly early on that the consistency is firm enough and the size large enough to make absolutely lovely hamburger buns.  (No more soggy, squishy buns!  The biggest problem might be opening your mouth wide enough after you dress up your burger with all the goodies, especially if you've loaded it with two hamburger patties.)  I had no idea how the Scots used them, but I figured as a citizen of the melting pot of cultures which is America, I was justified in adapting them to my need.

Well, I didn't see any Baps being used as hamburger buns in London, but they were used in breakfast or lunch sandwiches.  They came out of the kitchen sliced in half and filled with sausage or bacon.  (By the way, the bacon there is nothing like the fatty American bacon with which we're generally stuck when we go to the grocery store.  Americans would recognize it as closer to "Canadian-style" bacon.)

Ingredients:

1 lb strong plain white flour (3.5-4 cups--I use all-purpose flour, sometimes adding some whole wheat.)
a pinch of salt
1 oz fresh yeast (1 cake compressed yeast--I used a little less than a Tablespoon of yeast.)
1 level teaspoon caster sugar (this is regular sugar for Americans)
1/2 pint milk and water mixed (1 1/4 cups)
2 oz lard (1/4 cup--by the way, shortening works here)
a little extra flour

The first thing you might notice, if you are paying attention, is that the size of British cups and American cups seems to be different, as in America, 1/2 pint of liquid is 1 cup, while the recipe translates it to 1 1/4 cups.  I decided to just go ahead and pretend that the British cups were American cups.  (Bread isn't usually "rocket science", so some of the measurements don't have to be too exacting.  The amount of flour added always varies with atmospheric conditions, anyway.  What this means, of course, is that my Baps may be a bit bigger than the recipe intends them to be, as I am adding more liquid.)

First, warm the milk and water mixture to lukewarm, then stir in the yeast and sugar so they dissolve.  Set aside for a few minutes.  (Note:  if you do this with powdered milk, it is a lot simpler.  Just use water for this step and add some powdered milk in the mixing bowl with the flour.)

Put about half the flour, along with the salt, into the bowl of a stand mixer.  The directions say to "rub" the lard into the mixture of flour and salt, a process which involves, basically, putting your fingers into the mixture and, well, rubbing the lard into the mixture until it resembles a bowl full of crumbs.  I decided to try this with the wire attachment to the mixer.

Seemed to work well enough, to me!

Change the wire attachment to the dough hook, then add the yeast liquid and continue mixing in stand mixer, adding flour until the dough has formed around the hook well.  Allow the stand mixer to continue mixing at a slow speed, adding just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to the sides of the bowl, for about five minutes.

Put the dough into a lightly oiled bowl, cover it with oiled plastic wrap and leave the dough in a warm place to rise.  It should double in size in about 30 minutes.  Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and punch down, then cut it into eight pieces.  (If you are really picky, like me, you can use a kitchen scale to make sure the pieces are of similar weights.)

Shape each piece into a roll. I do this by slightly flattening each piece in my hand, then pulling up the sides to pinch together in the middle.  This seam goes on the underside when it is placed on the baking sheet.

Senior Master Kitchen Helper demonstrating the technique . . .

Flatten the rolls with a rolling pin and place them on greased or floured baking trays.  (I confess to flattening them only a little.)

Allow the baps to rise on the trays in a warm place for about 15 minutes.  (In my experience, it usually takes a bit longer than this;  it's a good time to preheat the oven to 425 Fahrenheit or 220 Celsius.)

Brush the surface of each bap with water and dust with flour.  Bake the baps for about 15-20 minutes or until golden brown.  Cool on a wire rack.

Who wants squishy hamburger buns, anyway?

The Baps I saw in England were a little flatter than mine, so I may be too timid when I flatten my rounds.  Perhaps I'll do so a little more aggressively the next time we're feeling like a good burger . . . or not.  There's something satisfying about opening your mouth to its limit to accommodate a giant stack of meat, vegetables, and very tasty bread.

Note:  I've also used this recipe in a pinch for bratwurst buns, too, rather than hot dog buns; I just shaped them differently.  Granted, I'd rather have German bread, but this will do until I learn how to make it.

A Brief Note

Contrary to what may be popular belief, this blog is not abandoned!

That said, it definitely has been a while since I posted anything on this blog.  Face it, May is an exceptionally busy month for mothers.  The end of school, coaching kids on getting their last papers done and preparing for finals, makes it busy enough.  And then, my husband took a trip to London for some business conferences and invited me to go along for the interim between them.  (It was great fun, but I caught a virus from someone on my return flight, which meant I didn't want to spend much time in the kitchen the next week.)

To top it all off, a few weeks later, our entire family was laid off, which required us to move, a three-week process.  Yep, you'll see a different kitchen counter in the newer pictures . . . After that was a family reunion . . .

In addition, while I managed to get a job lined up for myself, it is one which will keep me rather busy, so I will really have to focus on setting time aside for this blog.  You see, I'm going to be teaching high school, and as anyone who knows a teacher knows, this requires a lot of time out of school, as well.

Long story short, the time I've spent in the kitchen has been greatly reduced lately, aside from "Normal Bread" and some crackers for comfort food.

But I do have one more bread I need to write up and post, as well as plans to make other new recipes.  I'll get to 80 breads; it just might take a little longer than I originally anticipated.

Brazilian Pao de Queijo

In my search for bread recipes so far, I've made breads from North America, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.  While researching breads from South America, I discovered a few recipes for Pao de Queijo, a cheese bread from Brazil.

This bread is not made from wheat flour, but flour from the cassava root, also known as tapioca.  As I had never made any kind of gluten-free bread before, I was curious to see how this would turn out.

After a lot of reading, I decided to start with this recipe from allrecipes.com.  Following recommendations from the comment section and other recipes I had read, I changed some things.  First, I changed the proportions of oil and water.  Next, I omitted the garlic.  And finally, I substituted queso fresco of my own making instead of Parmesan cheese and increased the amount.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup olive oil or butter (I used the olive oil.)
1/2 cup water
1/3 cup milk or soy milk (I used milk.)
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups tapioca flour
1 cup crumbled queso fresco (or freshly grated Parmesan cheese)
2 beaten eggs

Pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.  Heat oil, water, milk, and salt until just boiling.  (This can be done on the stove or in the microwave.  I used the microwave.)   Mix in the tapioca flour until smooth and allow to sit for 10-15 minutes.

I had read the sitting time was very important, and I had guessed the batter would thicken somewhat, but I had no idea exactly how much it would thicken.  When I first started stirring it after the sitting time, I thought I had put my spoon into a bowl full of very thick and half-hardened glue.

Actually, it made me smile.  There was chemistry going on . . .

Mix the beaten eggs and crumbled cheese into the batter.

Here's where I ran into a problem.  The recipe said it should look like cottage cheese at this point, but mine looked more like pancake batter.  I allowed it to sit again, wondering if it would thicken once more, but at the end of the time, it looked as much like pancake batter as it had beforehand.

I knew at once there was no way this was going to keep any kind of a shape if it was scooped out on a baking sheet.

It was time for drastic measures!

I remembered another recipe I had read in which the batter really ended up looking like, well, batter.  As a matter of fact, this other recipe mixed the batter in a blender, instead of a bowl.  And the batter was "battery" enough that the bread was cooked in a mini-muffin tin, instead of being scooped out on a baking sheet.

Fortunately, among the various pans I own, I have a mini-muffin tin, which I pulled out, greased, and filled with batter.

The baking time indicated in the recipe was 15-20 minutes, so I started with 15.  When the timer beeped, I took a look in the oven and was delighted to see the bread actually rising and baking.  As it was obviously nowhere near done, I went ahead and set the timer for the extra 5 minutes.  I ended up keeping it in for yet another 5 minutes when I found the tops had not yet browned.

Finally, it was ready to be removed!  After a couple of minutes to cool, I removed the bread from the muffin tin.  It was work.  Although the tins had been greased, the bread had to be coaxed to release from the sides and bottom.

These are second batch breads.

If I was looking for a really foreign experience, this was definitely it!  I had read that the texture was rather rubbery, but I was not quite prepared for exactly how rubbery.  One comment stated that while the exterior was nice and crunchy, the interior was a bit similar to Japanese mochi, and I had to agree.  The flavor was also not like anything I was expecting, and I recognized it might take a little time to get used to this combination.

This one is from the second batch.

There are some things which should be noted about this bread.  If muffin tins are used, make sure they are very well greased, as only having them slightly greased may result in bread which does not release easily.  Also, while many breads can be cooked at a slightly cooler temperature without suffering ill effects, this one appears to be a bit more temperature-sensitive.  If the oven is even a little cooler than 375 degrees Fahrenheit, the bread will not turn out as well.  The first batch was cooked with my oven registering 375 degrees, but it did not brown in a timely fashion and the interior was overly rubbery, to the point where it squeaked on my teeth.  (The Kitchen Artiste in Training took one bite and called the texture "awkward".)  The second batch, on the other hand, was cooked with the temperature raised 10 degrees, which meant my oven was actually heating to at least 375.  (Guess I need to get my husband to see if he can calibrate it.)  Even so, it still took 25 minutes to do any browning, instead of the 15-20 stated in the recipe.  The texture did turn out a bit less rubbery in the 2nd batch, which I enjoyed better.

The Japanese Chef (eldest daughter) ate her piece, stating that the interior reminded her of something, but she wasn't sure exactly what--maybe the interior of the Russian Yogurt Pancakes.  The Kitchen Artiste in Training was perfectly happy to munch her piece from the second batch.  I was concerned about the Senior Master Kitchen Helper, as she is sensitive to textures to the point where she gags when eating stuffed pasta shells, but she ate hers without argument or enthusiasm.  And the Master Kitchen Helper just told me it was "good" when I asked her about it.  (Unfortunately, the Junior Taste-Tester was sick with a flu, so she didn't have the chance to taste this one.)

My husband was traveling when I made this, so he missed out, but when I told him about the texture, my face in some odd expression, he just laughed.

"Of course it's like that," he said.  "It's from the cassava root, the basic food staple of many people, which the Angolans use to make funge."

Noting my puzzled expression, he continued.  "When I was traveling in Angola, we saw this a lot, especially on the weekends, when we were invited to eat at people's houses.  They would make the funge, which would end up a bland, gelatinous blob.  It was served with various sauces full of meat and vegetables, which is what made it edible."

I've never been to Angola or eaten funge, so I would have had no idea.

I'm sure I will make it again, but first, I have to make more queso fresco, because I ate the rest of that batch sprinkled on scrambled eggs.  At least this time, I will know more about what to expect.

Paneer or Queso Fresco

I first stumbled on this recipe for paneer from showmethecurry.com when I was looking for recipes from India.  I wondered after first making it and observing its qualities if it could be used as we use queso fresco, down here in the desert southwest.  Although paneer is a cheese made in India, and queso fresco is a cheese from Mexico, it seemed they were practically the same thing.

Both cheeses are what is termed "fresh cheese", meaning they are made, then used immediately or soon afterward, instead of being set aside to cure.  Both are made using milk and an acid, but no "coagulator", such as rennet.  Both can crumble nicely.  Both can be cut, if you want.  And neither one melts when cooked.

A little more research confirmed it:  a recipe for a basic queso fresco turned out to be exactly the same!

As the next bread recipe I want to try requires cheese, and as one commenter said they had the best results using queso fresco, I decided it was time to take pictures and post this adventure, as well, on my way toward the next bread.

Ingredients:

2 quarts milk  (I've used whole milk before with good results.  This time, I used 1 percent.)
1/4 cup lemon juice or white vinegar (I used lemon juice.)
salt to taste

Seriously!!  That's all there is in it!  (I figured for this, I did not need an ingredient picture.)

Now, down to business.  First, put the milk in a heavy cooking pot and bring it gradually to a boil, stirring gradually at first and more consistently later on so the bottom doesn't burn.

 
This will be the one step in the entire process which has the risk of driving you insane.  At least, it drives me insane . . . every single time.  It could be that I'm heating it at too low a temperature, but I find it can take the better part of an hour for my milk to finally reach a boil.  By the end, I find I've been standing over the pot, staring maniacally at the surface, willing bubbles to rise.

After the milk finally reaches a boil, stir in the 1/4 cup lemon juice.  Keep stirring.  After about 10-15 seconds, the milk solids will start to separate from the whey.  Keep stirring until it appears to be completely separated.

Remove from heat and allow the "curds and whey" to sit for a few minutes.

 

Prepare a colander or strainer over a bowl.  Cover it with several layers of cheesecloth.  (I used four.)  A single layer of muslin can be used, instead.

Pour the curds and whey into the cheesecloth.  Pick up the four corners of the cheesecloth and tie the opposite ones together.  Remove this from the bowl.

Don't throw away the whey!  It's good for you and can be used in place of water in your bread recipes.  (You can see I used it in my "normal bread" recipe when I wrote that one up.)  Just store it in the refrigerator for a week or less until you are ready to use it.

Here's an overhead view of my cheesecloth hanging on the wooden spoon inside the 2-gallon beverage dispenser my husband picked up for me, which I never use because it's just too big to have taking up space on my counter . . . Makes a great place in which to drain paneer, though.

This is what you see after about 30 minutes.  Most of the whey has drained out.  (Isn't it amazing how little cheese actually comes out of a half gallon of milk?)

If you want a more firm cheese, you can take it off the cheesecloth at this point and knead in some flour.  I haven't done this, but I do knead in a bit of salt for flavor.  If you want to make your cheese herbed, you can add whatever you want here, as well.

Place the cheese back on the cheesecloth and shape into whatever general shape you want.

Fold the cheesecloth over the paneer neatly.

Place the paneer over something which will drain.  (This is a storage container into which my husband drilled holes to use as a makeshift steamer in our rice cooker.  The things we do, sometimes, to improvise . . . It photographs better than my other method of using my oversized steamer insert, placing an upside-down saucer beneath it to lift it from the plate.)

Add some weight on top of the paneer.  (You don't really need 3 whole pounds, but that was the weight of the can my daughter grabbed when I asked her for a weight.  I shrugged and figured it would do.  It's powdered honey, by the way, in case you were wondering.)

Let the weight sit on the paneer for about 30 minutes.  This time, I confess, it sat longer, because I had someplace I had to be . . .

And that's all there is to it!  You can see from the edges that the texture is crumbly, but the area more toward the center is stuck together well.  As it sat under the weight longer than I usually do, it is more dry than I usually make it, but that will be to my advantage, I think, for my planned bread recipe.

At this point, if you're ready to use it, you can crumble or cut it.  If you want to store it, use a container with a lid, and add some water, according to the Show Me the Curry ladies.  (I've never seen queso fresco stored that way, but it seems to work.)  This is, incidentally, why I tend to form mine in a square, because it fits neatly into one of those cheap "entree-sized" food storage containers.

Now the challenge will be not eating it all before I try out the bread recipe I want to try . . . This is, after all, the cheese I spread on my Simple Wheat Crackers the night I was dying for crackers and cheese . . . So yummy . . .

Afterward:

Live and learn!  One thing I did not understand when I posted this is that the homogenized milk purchased at the store does not make this as well as milk which has not been put through this process.  As I did not have a source of raw cow's milk, I could only use the store-packaged, homogenized milk.  Just recently, I tried this recipe using our own home-produced goat milk, and it came out much differently.  The texture was smoother, the curds stuck together more completely (I could actually slice it better), and the flavor, of course, was richer.  <shrug>   Now I know.

Rieska

My office at work used to be a one-bedroom apartment.  (Yes, the place at which I work is rather unique.)  Some of the apartments have been remodeled  to either connect apartments into larger office areas or to at least remove the kitchen, but my kitchen remains.  While the original range is defunct, I have at my disposal a refrigerator, a sink (with hot water), a microwave oven, and a countertop oven my husband picked up for me at Christmas.  The company is gracious enough to allow us to use these kitchen facilities, within reason.

I figure if the smokers can go outside and spend 10 minutes or something puffing away at tobacco several times a day, I can take a few minutes to do a little baking here and there.  So I have at times mixed up bread dough at home, then brought it down to my office to rise, be quickly shaped into loaves, and bake.  This means my office usually smells absolutely wonderful . . . a fact which has not escaped the notice of the guys who have the office next door.  (One day, after hearing them exclaim over and over about the smell in my office, I shaped cinnamon rolls at home, then brought them to my office for their final rise and baking, specifically so I could share.)

The other morning, I had wanted to make a kind of sweet roll, but as my kids had kept me busy in the morning, I found myself thumbing through my Sunset Cookbook of Breads after they had gone on the bus, looking for a quick bread, instead, sweet or not.  I found one:  Rieska, a barley or rye bread from northern Finland and Lapland.

I was struck by the ease with which I could transport this particular recipe to my office, so I quickly assembled the ingredients.

Ingredients:

2 cups barley flour or rye flour  (I had rye.)
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup undiluted evaporated milk or light cream
2 Tablespoons butter, melted

At home, I mixed the dry ingredients and put them in a plastic zipper storage bag for transport.  I then grabbed a couple of 5-ounce evaporated milk cans and a stick of butter, put the whole thing in a plastic bag along with my cookbook, and headed down to my office.

After turning my oven on to 450 degrees Fahrenheit, checking my e-mail and doing the little things which needed to be done right away, I pulled my mixing bowl from my cupboard, grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer where I keep all my kitchen implements, and emptied the plastic bag into the bowl.

As I do drink hot chocolate in my office, various mugs have found their way to my cupboards, so I measured two Tablespoons of butter into one of them, covered it with a paper towel, and melted the butter in the microwave.  With the remaining butter stick, I buttered the baking pan I keep in my office.

I mixed one of the cans of evaporated milk in with the melted butter and poured it into the bowl, then poured about 3/5 of the other can in, as well.  (I guessed.  I figured if the dough was too stiff, I could always add a little more.)  Mixing with a wooden spoon resulted in a reasonably smooth, but not too sticky and not too stiff dough.

I only had normal white flour in my cupboard, so after turning the dough out onto the baking pan, I floured my hands with that and started pressing it down to about 1/2 inch thick.  The recipe said to make it a 14-inch circle, but this pan would not allow that, so I ended up with a rectangle, more or less.

Time to prick it all over with a fork!

Baking time is supposed to be about 10 minutes or until lightly browned, but I goofed and ended up with closer to 12 or 13 minutes.  Sure smelled good!

When I pulled it out of the oven, my first thought was that it was going to be a brick.  It didn't look like it had risen much, if at all, and with the whole grain flour, I wondered what the texture would be.  (Of course, given that the recipe had directed me to prick the dough all over, it really is no wonder the bread didn't rise a lot.  That's usually the effect desired by pricking the dough.)

I was surprised to find that while the texture was not exactly fluffy, it was soft enough, especially when spread with plenty of butter, as the recipe suggested.  The hearty flavor also partnered well with the honey I coaxed out of my underused honey bear.  I justified eating three pieces by the fact that it was whole grain and therefore good for me . . . (right?) . . .

It actually feels fluffier than it looks.

I will probably make this bread again sometime, as it is very fast and easy to do.  This could even be made first thing in the morning, when I am getting the kids ready for the bus, to eat alongside their hot chocolate as we hold our morning scripture study.

But if not, it is a great addition to my "office cooking" list.