Cheese bread interlude

Before the big garland reveal, I must show you that asiago cheese bread I made back on Super Bowl Sunday.

 

It was made of win, not only because of its tastiness, but also because of its uncanny resemblance to an overstuffed bird and/or a blowfish.

Right?! You see it. The beak. The gills. It's all right there!

A crusty, soft, and cute little loaf of bread with chunks of cheese inside. Effing yum! 

It had a nice hint of black pepper flavor to it, and I'm told it went really well with the chili that our friend made. I recommend! 

Recipe is in this book. Super easy to make. If you like bread and you like cheese (and who doesn't), you should make it. 

And that's what the blowfish bird cheese bread and I have to say to you about that. Make it!

On snafus

Jim Lahey's got me. He's really got me.

That's how I was going to start the blog post called The Cheese Bread. I was going to go on and on about this asiago cheese bread I made from Jim Lahey's book. All about the cheesiness and the glory of it all. But the little elves in my computer weren't having it. They were absolutely not interested in supplying me with the necessary photos that I know are in there.

I won't bore you with what didn't show up where and who cursed at what. But I will say that I decided to treat it as an exercise in equanimity. It just is what it is. No cheese bread photo. No cheese bread post. For now.

I took the opportunity to sit here quietly and look out my window into my new backyard. Thinking about what a beautiful day it is and how lucky I feel about that and so many other things, I spied a little grey bird sitting on a post back there.

That little bird is a regular on that post. Well, I see a bird out there every day, and I've decided it's the same one. As I watched him, he flitted from the post to a branch and back to the post again. I was struck by the loveliness of the idea that it might be the same bird -- some little guy who flies all over the city but then comes back here to this post. You know, to chill before he heads back out into the world. As I thought that, he looked right at me. And I felt a very sweet connection with that bird in that moment. I really did. And it was in that quiet moment, that moment of perfect stillness, with our eyes locked in a peaceful and seemingly loving gaze that he pooped on my lawn and flew away.

True story.

I would've never had that experience had the computer elves complied with my wishes. So, see? It's all to the good. Now, whenever I'm having a sweet moment of appreciation, I have a bit of shtick I can employ that I didn't have before today. It's like a free gift from that bird! I have to come up with a good name for it, though, because "the poop and fly" really isn't up to the very high standards I have for my bits. Any and all suggestions welcome.

The Bread

Baking is weird.

First of all, it's mostly washing dishes, I'm discovering. What no one tells you is that Sewing is mostly ironing, Football is mostly getting up off the ground, and Baking is mostly washing dishes. That's ok. That's cool. I can handle that. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all.

What's really weird, though, is the anxiety about whether or not something is gonna turn out ok. With other crafts, I certainly have the same anxiety (see all my posts about being sure I'm on the verge of ruining something completely). But here's the difference: you're not going to feed a quilt to somebody. If you make a scarf that has a weird flaw in it, no one's going to actually throw up. Different game, different stakes with the baking.

Since I don't cook, I don't spend any time with this I-might-be-poisoning-people fear, and I imagine it passes. (I should say on the record that I really appreciate the fact that my Sidekick hasn't poisoned me yet, what with my not cooking and everything.) To be fair, I am exaggerating about how big a deal this particular fear is. I follow instructions closely, and I mostly figure it'll all work out. But still, the outer edge of failure here is poisoning. With other crafts, it's just humiliation.

That being said, I've made bread.

 

My first go at bread ever was using this recipe. As it turns out, there's a major craze associated with this bread and its no-knead method. I am quite late to this crazy party, but it doesn't make me any less enthusiastic about it. (I had a similar experience over Thanksgiving when I took a train from New York to Boston and was all, "Traveling by rail is absolutely delightful!" Super late to that party.)

 

These are pictures of my third try with this recipe. Forgive me for asking that you imagine the first two, since no blog meant no photos.

My very first try was marked by the bread being partially burned. When you think your Sidekick has put the rack on the very bottom of the oven explicitly for you, and he hasn't? You get a burned bread bottom. Don't think I wasn't real salty about this. In spite of this flaw, the bread did make for the most delicious grilled cheese sandwiches of all time. What really kicked it over was the Cougar Gold cheese, courtesy of my wasband. My Sidekick, my wasband, and I could not believe our good fortune eating those sandwiches. Highly recommended!

The second try at the bread was less eventful and totally delicious. And as you see here in try number three, I scrapped the oat bran and went with only flour on the outside. Fantastic in its own right.

What's not weird about this whole baking thing and me is that I've now bought the cookbook by the bread guy and a new dutch oven to make all kinds of this bread, and all I want to do is make more bread. In fact, a loaf of asiago cheese bread from that book is cooling on my counter right this moment. Photos to follow, provided everything goes according to plan. May no one be harmed in the eating of that bread. Amen.