Sourdough Success and Failure

Yesterday I was determined to make this bread submit (rise) in time to have it before bed. In my rush to get it proofing before picking Miles up from our nanny share, I did something stupid. I left my KitchenAid mixer running on the countertop for less than 30 seconds while checking out the next steps in my cookbook and BAM! It somehow walked its way off the countertop and onto the floor. Luckily, the dough was almost finished kneading and looked ready to go. 

I set the dough to rise on the warm oven for three hours and contemplated the fate of my poor mixer. From what I can tell, the cord took a brunt of the force and came nearly completely out of the back of the motor. Today, one of my tasks after taking Miles to his one-year checkup is to call around and find a repair shop so the KitchenAid will be up and running again when we get back from our October trip to the east coast. After rising for three hours, I divided the dough into two balls and put one on the stove to proof again and one in the refrigerator to proof overnight. I got impatient and decided to go ahead and start the baking process at 10:30pm (about an hour early). 


The dough looked perfect when I set it on the peel, but somehow the semolina flour didn't get under one of the edges and it flopped onto the baking stone in this sort of amoeba shape. As you can see, my cuts in the top weren't deep enough either, so overall, the appearance is less than ideal. However, the taste was fantastic. I'm excited to try again today with the loaf in the fridge, but this time give it the proper amount of time to rise and maybe leave it on the sheet pan so it will retain its beautiful round shape. 

September Projects

September is almost over and I don't even know how that happened. It's not been Miles' best month, to put it mildly, he's been a bit of a tyrant through his cold, growing pains, and teething. There are some clues left behind from the rubble of Hurricane Little -- piles of clothes soiled with snot and drool, chewed up books, miscellaneous kitchen gadgets in various states of disrepair, and some dried up raisins and frittata ground into the carpet. Somehow in the chaos, I managed to start a couple of cooking and sewing projects on the weekend and in between naps, work, and fluctuating nanny schedules. 


My first project involved breaking out my Bread Baker's Apprentice book and doing two things that I've been meaning to try for a while: pizza dough and sourdough bread. The pizza dough was a success. I made six dough crusts and froze them for later use. The other night we decided to give them a try and they were wonderfully delicate and stretchy and when coupled with my baking stone, we made pizza that rivals our favorite pizzeria. Dough win.

The sourdough has been more of a challenge. I embarked on making my own starter over a week ago and still have yet to make a sourdough loaf. I feel like I've spent more quality time with the seed and barm than I have with my own child. Maybe if Miles smelled like rye flour and pineapple juice, I'd love him more. The process is easy enough. It starts out with dark rye flour and some liquid (pineapple juice for the first two days) and goes something like this: mix, cover, ferment, uncover, mix, throw out half of your bubbly (stinky) concoction, mix, cover, ferment, mix some more, throw out some more, uncover (shielding your eyes from the fumes), refrigerate, wait wait wait, warm up, mix, cool off, rise, wait wait wait, flip yet another page to find a list of 12 more steps to go. I think you get the point. 

So here I started, with a weeks worth of variations on the starter in my Pyrex measuring cup, and am today, finally at the bread making step. I was so excited to have a fresh baked sourdough loaf on the table for dinner, but after reading through each step carefully, I realized that the bread won't be finished until about 9pm. Bummer. I should have started the process when I woke up this morning! Well, lesson learned for next time. And there will be a next time, because I have a bowl full of barm in the fridge that needs to be fed, rocked, and snuggled (I kid). J and I have made a pact to bake at least three batches before giving up, then I'll freeze the starter for later so I don't have to start the process again. 

The other project was making Miles a chair. I've been searching around for a mini upholstered chair for Miles to climb on and relax in, but they're either all terribly ugly or insanely expensive. So, I spent one evening on the internet and found a lady on Etsy who made a pattern for a plush kid's chair. I purchased the pattern on Tuesday and with great restraint, waited all the way until Saturday to get the supplies. J watched Little all afternoon while I went on an epic run to JoAnn's and Fabric Depot. Little took stock of the foam and batting and determined it was a worthy project. I had all of the pieces cut out by Saturday night and spent Sunday in my sweatshop pumping out the slipcover. The instructions were pretty good (not outstanding though) and I had to scratch my head and dig deep into my brain's sewing chest to figure out how to get it all put together. 

In the end I'm pretty happy with the results. Would I do it again? No. It was only slightly less expensive than just buying a stuffed chair from Pottery Barn, and was kind of a pain to sew. However, it looks adorable in our living room and Little loves it, so totally worth the mild annoyance. I have to go back and fix the arms (they need more stuffing) and I goofed when putting in the zipper, so there's a slight pucker on the right side (this may never get fixed though, since removing a zipper is high on my list of things never to do). I don't think Little will care though, because he now has his own piece of furniture to love and jump on. 

Chicago Trip

Little and I had a wonderful trip to Chicago last weekend to visit my good friend, Lauren, and her husband, Ken. We escaped the oppressive 95º+ heat in Portland and the music festival bender that consumed the weekend for Jesse and our good friend, Tyson. I was pretty nervous about the 4 hour flight to Chicago, but Little (all things considered) was a pretty good traveler. I won't go so far as to say I had a great time on the plane (who does, really), but it could have been worse. Way worse. 

It was wonderful to visit with Lauren, since I haven't seen her since Little was just a few weeks old. She and Ken purchased a wonderful old house in Evanston and we fully utilized the screened in porch for breakfast and dinners, as well as the back yard for happy hour bloody mary's. Mr. M loved the stairs and terrorized their two cats, Simon and Louisa, every waking moment. His growls of "kittay kittay kittay!" could be heard all over the house as he tried (in vain) to get his mitts on one of the cats as they scurried around trying to escape. 

We took an afternoon drive over to Wagner Farm, just a few minutes from Evanston, where he ran around looking at pigs, cows, and giant farm equipment. I'd like to say that the animals were the object of his affection, but it was the blue tractor that gained his love. He was incredibly excited about the giant wheels and spent quite a bit of time inspecting the rims and tires. 

We also took a walk over to Lake Michigan and spent a lovely Sunday afternoon watching the waves lap onto the beach. Tons of kids and parents were playing and swimming in frigid water -- I know this because I only allowed my big toe to get wet. Little was a little unsure about the sand between his toes and refused to leave the beach blanket. I could tell it was a tough decision for him, because the lure of kids and beach toys would otherwise be too much temptation to resist. He happily barked orders from the safety of the green sheet and finally lost patience even for that. We put him in the stroller, brushed off his feet, and he happily cooed and dozed until we were ready to head home. 


I arrived in Portland Monday evening exhausted, but happy. It was a great trip and I'm so glad I decided to visit. 

Birthday Boy

I had grand plans for Miles' birthday. I was going to bake a cake and there were going to be memorable decorations to remember the big milestone. Then, we were hit with an August heatwave that I (smugly) talked about avoiding the week before. I was also hit with ton of work in preparation for a new lecture season. Even with a ton of help from my mom, some days Miles is a tornado that whips and whirls around the apartment on a seek and destroy mission. So, instead of cute homemade decorations (in typical Brasilliant style), Miles got a pretty sad Happy Birthday banner from Fred Meyer and a store-bought cake. 

One thing that I did not compromise on was my desire to have his first cake at least be a tasty one. While the banner was not what I had imagined for his first birthday, the cake was worlds better than I would have ever made. It was no larger than a cupcake, but was one of the tastiest non-chocolate cakes that I've had in a while (or maybe ever). Miles' birthday treat was white cake with a triple berry cream and a delicious blueberry or huckleberry core. The outside was rolled in delicious white chocolate and topped with more of the delicious filling. I had some reservations about getting him a pretty feminine looking cake, but my mom reassured me at Zupans (the specialty market that sold the cakes) that he'd probably turn out well adjusted despite the frilly wrapper and cotton candy colored frosting. Besides, who doesn't love berries?

That afternoon, following some present opening and a nap, we sang happy birthday and brought over the cake. Miles was pretty excited when we put it on his tray, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of his cake padded fingers after a while. He gave the cake a few tastes, but it was pretty different than anything he had before. The sweetness made him shudder. After a while the tray was smeared with icing and filling and he flapped his little arms to say he was finished. We got in a few photos before he really insisted on being released from the high chair. Jesse and I grabbed a fork and enjoyed a few bits of tastiness discarded on his tray. 

Miles was much more interested in helping Jesse take down his Fred Meyer decorations. I don't blame him, they were pretty pedestrian, but oh so shiny and intriguing to a one year old boy. Next year, dude, we'll go all out. Homemade cake AND decorations of your choice. Not that you'll remember anyway, but I will.