The Yummies

So, for dinner tonight, we had bef stroganov. Homemade. Delicious. Thank God for cattle (genus Bos).

But that's not the best part—not by half. No, I made blueberry clafoutis for desert.

(Is that confectioner's sugar on top, or did it snow? Answer: yes. Sweet-fake-snow is the best kind.)

This is the part where I would, and perhaps should, provide you with a recipe. However, I don't really remember my exact process (I rarely make deserts the same way twice, relying on copious amount of improv tempered only by experience.), so it would be a bit vague. Besides, there are already many delicious recipes out there from which one can get a basic idea. I am of course being lazy, but I trust all of you know how to use google. Or Bing. Whichever's your preference.

And for maximum fun, I suggest you pick the hardest and easiest looking recipes (or any three), make them both (all), and then  experiment as you please. That is my challenge. 

Have fun. And I wouldn't mind hearing about it.

Go mbeannai Dia duit,

M. S.

Why am I awake?

Actually, the title of this post is a rhetorical question. I now exactly why I'm awake. I think. Mostly... Let me explain.

I'm still up now because my cinnamon bread is about to go in the oven. I was still up before because, at about 2:30, I decided: hey, since I'm up, why don't I make bread for bible study and puppets? (puppeteers, actually, but whatever) Before that, though? I'm not really sure. I was probably up because everyone one else was, but I don't think that's really reason enough. Is it?

Lately, this has been happening alarmingly often. It's like I have second hand insomnia, which I must say is quite annoying. It's one thing to stay up when no one else is awake, to listen to the house creak and the wind blow, to let my imagination run wild. On nights like those, I write like a madmen; although, sometimes I clean and brood. But when EVERYONE stays up late... Then I end up sitting around eavesdropping, or listening to music by myself; either way, I'm not doing much productive. (I think I may be over using semi-colons here? I don't even know anymore. It seems the tireder (Is that even a word?) I get, the sloppier my sentence structuring becomes. Or maybe that's just my imagination.) This actually how I seem to be whenever I'm in the presence of people: I lurk in the background—doing general lurky things—whilst trying not to be noticed. At times, it's extremely frustrating. Especially when I'm actually trying to interact, but failing…

And that paragraph got away from me. It should probably be broken up. Or cut up. My internal editor isn't on the clock this late—probably one of the reasons writing is so productive when I'm up by myself.

Anyway, the fact is I am awake, and I am baking. In fact, if you'll excuse me one scend… There, bread is in the oven! Mmmm, if only you could smell what I'm smelling.

What else? 3 more hours and church starts!

Is there even a point to this post?

Methinks not.

Good morning—or night, as the case may be.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

I'm in heaven…

Okay, not really, but that's not not the point. The point is that my experimental baking has once again paid off :)

At least once a month, I like to go to the counter without a specific plan or recipe to follow. That's what I did to day. I ended up starting with a basic whole wheat yeast dough enriched with eggs, milk, and butter. Then I decided I wanted to add oats to it.

I'd used a honey oat filling a couple times before (just last month, in fact), but not in a whole wheat dough. Still, I didn't want to do the same thing. So instead of mixing honey and oats, I used 2 parts trad. oats, one part brown sugar, and enough heavy cream to create a spreadable mix. As I was spreading the filling onto the rolled out dough, I got the idea to add a little nut meg, too. So add I did.

The bread came out of the oven a few minutes ago, and I got the idea to glaze the crust with honey. It was simple, nothing special, but after devouring almost half the loaf by myself, I'm very pleased. It's like candy, and I'll probably be making it again some time. My new favorite creation.

Sorry, no pictures. I don't have a camera at the moment, but maybe next time I will. In the mean time I'm going back to the second best part of baking: eating the finished product.

What about you, bake or cook anything delicious? Any creations or achievements you're particularly happy with? Any woeful tales of failure? Surprising results?

Happy Baking, have and nice week, and
Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

Baking Bread

happens to be one of my favorite activities, especially shortly after I awake. Working the dough provides something to do with the hands, a slow introduction to activity in the early morning hours. It's meditative as well, requiring me to relax, to get inside the dough and feel when it's ready to rise.

There's a quote, I'm not sure who said it,  that goes: "Clean out a corner of your mind, and creativity will instantly fill it." This is exactly what happens when I make bread. During the kneading process, thoughts of stories fill my head. Whenever I'm stuck, it helps me to work out plot problems, build backstory and character, even realize flaws I didn't know were there.

Then, when it rises, I sit down and write until it comes time to work the dough again. I write again when it enters the often, only stopping when it's time to come out. But even after it comes out of the oven, it isn't done helping me write. It provides me with a reward, a delicious treat at the end of a work period that soothes my mental muscles. It reminds me that I am truly blessed.

As I try to write more often, I also bake more often—it has become an essential part of my writing process.

Well, internets, what activities have become essential for you? What do you do that helps creative thoughts flow?

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
M. S.

A Breakfast Experience.

Day old scones make an excellent breakfast, if I do say so my self (I've never understood the purpose of that phrase, it seems redundant) especially with good, and by good I mean decent, orange marmalade and a cup—or two—of strong black tea. It wasn't anything special, but it was delicious, refreshing, and filling. (why did I make them so massive?)

And to think, I came so close to killing those scones yesterday—thank God I didn't make any fatal mistakes. First, I added way too much milk (an easy fix—just doubled the dry ingredients); then, I forgot to rotate them in the oven, so the ones on the bottom rack burned on their…bottoms.

Anyway, they're still very much edible, and butter or marmalade makes the burnt ones equally yummy, maybe even more so. Perhaps it's a square-tailed cat. Again, thank God.

I think I'll bake ordinary bread today. I can't stand store bought stuff, and I feel like having a sandwich tomorrow.

Go mbeannaí Dia duit,
Gorby