A little over one year ago I purchased my first bread baking book ever: The Bread Baker’s Apprentice, by Peter Reinhart. Up to that point challah was the only yeasted bread I’d ever made, and as I flipped through Reinhart’s collection of gorgeous recipes I remember feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. I was so excited by the prospect of being able to create breads like this in my kitchen someday, but wondered when ’someday’ would arrive, if ever. I looked around my tiny apartment kitchen and, for a moment, was tempted to scoff at the idea of becoming a home baker. But then I turned to my husband and said, “One year from now, I’m going to be able to make a loaf of artisan bread.” Without batting an eye he replied, “Of course you’ll do it baby! And I’ll help you eat all the breads you bake between now and then.”

Since that day, every loaf of bread I’ve made has been a little piece of magic. People sometimes laugh at how excited I get when I talk about bread but for me it’s a passion. The smell of bread baking in the oven makes me feel content, the feel of dough beneath my hands relaxes me, and that first bite - the crunch, followed by the soft, resilient texture - there’s nothing like it. When I was visiting my family this past December my father told me that my great-grandfather was a baker who owned a panaderia (bakery) in Salinas, California. Then he went into the back room and emerged with a decades old photograph of this man, whose life was bread and whose blood ran through my veins. I must confess that a romantic part of me wondered whether there was such a thing as a “baking gene,” and whether it was possible that my way with dough was somehow connected to this man I’d never met.

Around 3 o’clock this afternoon snow started falling outside, the temperature dropped, and after several days of unusually warm weather winter returned to Connecticut. I sat near the window and watched the flakes fall for a while, then decided that tonight’s dinner would feature fresh bread and hot soup. After all, what is more comforting in winter? Chilly winds may be blowing, ice may be drifting down, but steam rising from a bowl and the welcoming scent of bread makes even the coldest evenings cozy.

A few hours later a rustic loaf of spinach feta bread emerged from the oven. As it cooled I prepared a pot of potato and leek soup, then gently fried sage leaves in a mixture of olive oil and butter. When my husband got home we sliced the bread, toasted the pieces, then dipped each one into the fragrant olive oil and butter concoction. It was a delightful combination, and as we sat down to enjoy our meal I found myself feeling grateful for the gift of bread, and glad that I didn’t give up when the prospect of making it seemed so daunting.

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Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day contains a wealth of delicious bread recipes and makes artisan home baking seem not only approachable, but easy. All the tricks I learned over months of baking are gathered together in this book. The authors teach you, for instance, that you don’t need to make fresh dough every day to have fresh bread every day, that you don’t need to proof your yeast, and that you don’t always have to knead your dough. These aren’t new ideas, but while I had to read many baking books to learn these helpful tips, “Artisan Baking in Five Minutes a Day” condenses them all into one highly accessible text. I will admit that having a solid background of baking experience helped me make the recipes I tried from this book, and that at times I kneaded the dough a bit or proofed my yeast - old habits die hard - but even when I didn’t give in to the temptation to knead or proof, the resulting breads were remarkably satisfying. I especially enjoyed the “Tips and Techniques” chapter, which explains moisture content and how to successfully modify doughs. It also tackles problems associated with underbaking or overbaking your loaves, giving you a helpful breakdown of signs to look for and how to improve your baking as a result. Though photos do not accompany the majority of the recipes, a handful of color photos are included in the middle of the book along with how-to photos in the “Master Recipe” section. The 5 minutes a day part stems from the fact that the authors often have you mix a big batch of various kinds of doughs, then give you instructions for making different breads from the initial batch throughout the week. I thought this technique was successful, with the exception of the Raisin Bread, which I felt would have been improved if it were based on a sweet, rather than a buttermilk, dough. But that’s a matter of personal preference, as is my wish that the authors hadn’t included quite so many “accompaniment” recipes, such as bean dips or soups to eat with certain breads. I would have preferred it if even more scrumptious bread recipes were featured on those pages instead. Yet, overall this book is an excellent addition to any library. I highly recommend the “Foccacia with Onion and Rosemary” and the “Spinach Feta Bread.”

Chapters include: Introduction; Ingredients; Equipment; Tips and Techniques; The Master Recipe; Peasant Loaves; Flatbreads and Pizzas; and Enriched Breads and Pastries.

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Spinach Feta Bread
Reprinted with permission from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois.

Ingredients: Makes four 1lb loaves

• 1 cup packed cooked (lightly steamed, boiled or sauteed), chopped spinach
• 3 cups lukewarm water
• 1 1/2 tablespoons granulated yeast (About 1 1/2 packets)
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 2/3 cup crumbled feta cheese
• 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
• 6 1/2 cups all purpose flour
• Cornmeal for pizza peel

Mixing and storing the dough: Squeeze the cooked spinach through a strainer to get rid of excess liquid. Mix the yeast, salt, spinach, cheese and sugar with the water in a 5-quart bowl, or a lidded (not airtight) food container. Mix in the flour without kneading, using a spoon, a 14-cup capacity food processor (with dough attachment), or a heavy-duty mixer (with dough hook). If you’re not using a machine, you may need to use wet hands to incorporate the last bit of flour.

Cover (not airtight), and allow to rest at room temperature until the dough rises and collapses (or flattens on top), approximately 2 hours.

The dough can be used immediately after the initial rise, though it is easier to handle when cold. Refrigerate in a lidded (not airtight) container and use over the next 7 days.

On baking day: Dust the surface of the refrigerated dough with flour and cut off a 1-pound (grapefruit size) piece. Dust the piece with more flour and quickly shape it into a ball by stretching the surface of the dough around to the bottom on all four sides, rotating the ball a quarter-turn as you go. Allow to rest and rise on a cornmeal-covered pizza peel for 1 hour (or just 40 minutes if you’re using fresh, unrefrigerated dough).

Twenty minutes before baking time, preheat the oven to 450 degrees F, with a baking stone placed on the middle rack. Place an empty boiler tray on any other shelf that won’t interfere with the rising bread.

Sprinkle the loaf liberally with flour and slash a cross or tic-tac-toe pattern into the top, using a serrated bread knife. Leave the flour in place for baking; tap some of it off before eating.

Slide the loaf directly onto the hot stone. Pour 1 cup of hot tap water into the broiler tray, and quickly close the oven door. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until deeply browned and firm. Smaller or larger loaves will require adjustments in baking time.

Allow to cool before slicing or eating.

I first learned about madeleines about three years ago while my husband and I were watching “The Transporter” on television. There amidst scenes featuring crazed, gun-wielding villains, was a cozy little kitchen moment where the woman Frank Martin is protecting repays his kindness with a batch of freshly baked madeleines. “My mother used to make fresh madeleines every morning, ” she tells him, “I smell them and my whole childhood comes back in one big flood, like Proust.” I enjoy guy-flicks with their explosions and car chases as much as the next gal, but this is the scene I remember from the film. What were these delectable little things, these madeleines? Therein began my love affair not only with madeleines but with culinary history.

Though madeleines are often called “cookies” in America, they’re actually miniature sponge cakes. Traditionally baked in shell-shaped tins, they come in a variety of flavors such as honey, chocolate, lemon, orange and cinnamon. In this post I’m sharing two madeleine recipes, one for Honey Madeleines from Indulge: 100 Perfect Desserts, and a personal recipe for Rosewater Madeleines. Since that fateful day when “The Transporter” introduced me to these sweets I’ve spent many an afternoon playing with different flavors, the result being that brunches in my home often include a tray of madeleines flavored with things like chai tea, orange-flower water or Mexican chocolate. I can’t help putting a mix together when company is over - how could I pass up an opportunity to bake dozens of madeleines without having the responsibility of eating all of them myself?

Ever since Proust wrote about madeleines in his “Remembrance of Things Past” the cakes have been associated with him, something even the writers of “The Transporter” saw fit to include in their script. Beyond that, a definitive association of anyone with madeleines is sheer conjecture - many chefs have tried to claim credit for their creation but the history of these cakes is a mystery. Back in 2004 ‘The Food Section’ featured an informative post about the origin of madeleines. Here Josh recounts two of the most popular legends about madeleines: the first attributes their creation to Jean Avice, pastry chef to French statesman Charles Talleyrand, who had the idea of baking a pound-cake mixture in aspic molds; the second traces madeleines to the French town of Commercy, which was then a duchy under the rule of King Stanisław Leszczyński of Poland. According to this legend, when the king visited the region in 1755 he was taken with a cake made by a peasant girl named Madeleine. So much so, in fact, that he ‘officially’ named the cookies madeleines and encouraged his daughter, Marie, to introduce them to high-society in Versailles. In Ladyfingers & Nun’s Tummies, author Martha Barnette offers yet another history, writing that “legend credits this elegant little cake’s creation to a nineteenth-century French chef, Madeleine Palmier.” However, culinary tomes such as “Larousse Gastronomique” think Palmier’s involvement was “doubtful.” The truth is that there are only three things that can be said about madeleines with any certainty: that “madeleine” is a French form of the word “magdalen” (as in Mary Magdalen, the disciple of Jesus); that madeleines are always associated with Commercy, France; and that nuns in 18th century France often supported their convents by making and selling madeleines. Indeed, up until the French Revolution, Commercy had a convent dedicated to St. Mary Magdalen. (source)

Whatever their origins, madeleines are delightfully easy to make - the perfect treat for lazy Sunday mornings, or harried afternoons when all you want is something sweet with a cup of steaming coffee. This week both situations applied to me: I made rosewater madeleines this morning to celebrate the snow day at school (no teaching today!), and I also made them this past Thursday, when I stumbled into my apartment, exhausted after taking my Biblical Hebrew Grammar exam. I mentioned this dreaded exam in my last post, and the time between that entry and this one is due largely to the fact that I was studying biblical grammar 6+ hours a day for an entire week. Oy! Let no one question my determination to perform well on the test and please God let it have been worth it. By Wednesday evening I was dreaming in Biblical Hebrew and even suffered from a particularly disturbing nightmare where I desperately wanted to bake chocolate cupcakes but all the instructions in my cookbook had been changed into Hebrew verbs. “Noooo!” I shouted, as I realized that each verb had to be parsed before I could find out, for example, how much chocolate was needed. “Just give me chocolate!” my dream self screamed at the cookbook, “I need cupcakes!” Ahem. The test is over now though, and the restorative effects of honey madeleines and a honey-vanilla latte soon set things to right. Behold the awesome power of miniature sponge cakes and caffeinated beverages. I have included my recipe for a Honey-Vanilla latte below, in case you find yourself in need of spiritual revival in the future.

I have two more papers to write for school, but before I get back to work there is one piece of important business: I must announce who won a copy of Indulge! Once again the random number generator came to my rescue, saving me from the daunting task of choosing the winning number… which was #42, Astra Libris! Congratulations to the winner and come back soon because I’m giving away 6 copies of Food to Live By next. (Hint: This giveaway will be announced in one of the sidebars, not in a post.)

Honey Madeleines
Reprinted with permission from Indulge: 100 Perfect Desserts, by Claire Clark.

Ingredients: Makes 14 large or 40 small madeleines.

• 3 1/4 oz unsalted butter, plus 1 oz melted butter for greasing the tins
• 2 teaspoons clear honey
• 2 medium eggs
• 2 3/4 oz caster sugar (superfine sugar, though I used confectioners sugar)
• 1/4 oz soft dark brown sugar
• a pinch of salt
• a few drops of vanilla extract
• 3 1/4 oz all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Brush the madeleine molds with the melted butter. Put the 3 1/2 oz of butter in a small pan with the honey and melt it, then cool slightly. Put the eggs in a large bowl with both the sugars, the salt and vanilla. Whisk until pale and doubled in volume. Sift the flour and baking powder together, then sift a second time. Fold them into the egg mixture with a large metal spoon, being careful not to lose any volume.

Pour the melted butter and honey down the side of the bowl so it floods on top of the mixture. Fold in gently, still being careful not to lose any volume. Cover the bowl with cling film and leave to rest in a cool place for 30 minutes.

Put the mixture into a piping bag fitted with a plain 1/2 inch nozzle and pipe it into the prepared madeleine tins, piping a fat, even, solid line down the center of each one. (I put about 1 tsp of batter into each mold using a spoon.) The mix will spread in the oven during baking, so there is no need for it to touch the sides of the mold. Place in the oven and bake for no more than 5 minutes for small madeleines, 10 minutes for large ones. Do not overcook them or they will be dry. As soon as they are done, flip over the molds and turn them out onto a wire rack. Serve warm.

Note: If you are going to purchase madeleine molds, I recommend you buy the metal ones. The flexible silicone molds do not color in quite the same fashion for this particular cake. I really like the crisp golden color crumb the butter gives on the outside of the cake, in contrast to the light sponge center. The metal molds give perfect results.

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Indulge: 100 Perfect Desserts, by Claire Clark, is an inspiring collection of unique recipes that range in difficulty from moderate to complex. As an experienced home baker & cook I appreciated how this book challenged me to up the proverbial ante. Though recipes for things like apple and cinnamon charlotte, carrot cake and shortbread don’t require too much kitchen know-how, other recipes will force you to flex your culinary muscles. A recipe for Feuilles D’Automne (which consists of layers of hazelnut meringue sandwiched with a hazelnut chocolate mousse and covered in crisp chocolate leaves) requires you to know how to make meringue, mousse, and how to temper chocolate, for instance. Clark has helpfully included a “Secrets of Success” section at the beginning of each chapter, which is filled with tips that teach you how to master many of the skills utilized in the book. She also includes a useful index of UK to US conversions (which lets you know that what she calls “cornflour” is called “cornstarch” stateside), as well as notes with most recipes, where she guides you through especially difficult steps and shares tricks she has used in her own kitchen. Under her instruction ordinary gingerbread becomes a veritable feast for the senses, with individual gingerbreads covered with crystallized rose petals, syrup and butter cream. I was especially delighted with her recipe for “dumph noodle,” which is a kind of bread smothered with homemade crème anglaise. It was a tremendous hit with everyone who tried it and has been added to my list of favorite recipes.

Because the recipes in this book have such a wide range of difficulty, “Indulge” would best be enjoyed by someone with a solid foundation of culinary knowledge and a desire to greatly improve their skill. Anyone who can bake, cook and meringue their way through the entirety of this book will find themselves in possession of a wealth of invaluable know-how. The only caveat I would offer is this: unless you are already an accomplished baker/cook, many of the recipes will be daunting. I have yet to master Clark’s recipe for Turkish Delight, which though I’ve followed it to the letter three times, has ended in complete disaster on every occasion. When this happens I find myself thinking about those “Star Trek” moments when Bones would turn to Jim and say something like “I’m a doctor Jim, not a pilot!” Well, in my case I’m a baker not a candy maker, and I’m completely fine working through the learning curve. One of these days I will master the magic of Turkish delight! In the meantime I have my dumph noodle, honey madeleines, and many other scrumptious treats to keep me company.

Chapters include: Biscuits and Cookies; Cakes; Pastry; Meringues; Custards and Creams; Desserts, Mousses and Jellies; Puddings; Ices and Petits Fours. A “Suppliers” index is also included at the back of the book.

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Rosewater Madeleines (My Recipe)

Ingredients:

• 6 tbsp all-purpose flour
• 1 stick (4 oz) unsalted butter, melted (plus more for brushing the pan)
• 1 1/4 cup confectioners sugar, plus more for dusting
• A pinch of salt
• 4 large egg whites
• 1/4 tsp pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 tsp rosewater

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F. Brush the madeleine pan with melted butter or spray with Pam butter spray. Melt one stick (4 oz) of butter on the stove until it turns a light amber color. Sift the confectioners sugar, flour and salt in a large bowl. In another bowl mix the egg whites, vanilla extract and rosewater. Add the egg mixture to the to flour mixture, and whisk until combined. Add the melted butter and whisk again until everything is incorporated.

Using a teaspoon, fill your madeleine molds to just under the top of each mold. Bake for 15 minutes or until the edges of the madeleines are golden brown. Transfer the madeleines to a baker’s rack and dust with confectioners sugar. Serve warm.

Honey-Vanilla Latte (My Recipe)
Ingredients: Makes 1 generous serving

• 1 1/2 cups freshly brewed coffee. (I prefer to use whole beans, rather than pre-ground coffee. Grinding your beans just before brewing enhances the flavor of your beverage. Use 2 tbs of beans per 1 cup of water.)
• 1/2 cup to 3/4 cup steamed milk, depending on your tastes. (I used 1/2 cup)
• 1 generous tbsp + 1 tsp honey
• 1/4 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 tbsp + 2 tsp heavy cream
• Whipped cream (optional)

Brew coffee using 2 tbs of ground beans per 1 cup of filtered water. As the coffee finishes brewing, add the heavy cream to the milk, then gently heat the mixture on the stove top or in the microwave (about 30-40 seconds in the microwave). Add the honey and vanilla to a large mug, then add the hot milk, then the coffee. Stir well using the spoon you used to measure the honey. Top with whipped cream if desired.