Bread Baker's Apprentice 9/43: cinnamon raisin walnut bread

I have always had a thing for cinnamon toast. Or, perhaps more accurately, I have always had a thing for cinnamon sugar.

I can picture it like it was yesterday: coming home from school after the first day of first grade, sitting on the chaise lounge our back porch, surrounded by hostas and tall evergreens, as Mom made me slice after slice of cinnamon toast. She kept asking me, "Do you want another piece?" And I kept saying yes.

In college I made great use of the resources available to me in the dining hall, mixing cinnamon and sugar from the coffee bar to sprinkle on buttery toast. Though maybe "sprinkle" is the wrong word; the trick to great cinnamon toast, after all, is to pour on enough cinnamon sugar so as to go beyond simply saturating the melted butter. There is no reason, at least in my book, to be moderate with cinnamon sugar.

When I read that Peter Reinhart's cinnamon raisin walnut bread includes the option of adding a cinnamon-sugar swirl to the center of the bread, I, um, decided that I had to do that. No matter that the dough itself is already infused with a goodly amount of cinnamon; it is just crazy talk to let an cinnamon-sugar opportunity like that slip away. Of course, being a Peter Reinhart recipe, I am certain that the cinnamon raisin walnut bread is delicious even without the cinnamon-sugar swirl. But it's even more delicious with it.

The recipe makes two loaves, and Reinhart suggests mixing a half cup of sugar with two tablespoons of cinnamon to split between the loaves to create the swirl. Which doesn't seem like a lot of cinnamon sugar until you begin sprinkling it on the dough. Remember how I said earlier that there is no reason to be moderate with cinnamon sugar? Clearly Reinhart agrees: there was enough of the cinnamon-sugar mixture to accumulate into an attractive and thick layer atop the dough, which I then rolled to form into the sweet loaves. There was so much cinnamon sugar, in fact, that it found an apparent weak spot in the loaf while it baked in the oven -- erupting when I turned it out of the pan with a sort of cinnamony magma that I happily ate right off the counter when it was cool enough to touch.

Like I said, I've always had a thing for cinnamon sugar. It is not always becoming.

Now, I would be remiss if I did not mention that this bread is worthy of your time based on its other merits as well. Its cinnamon-rich crumb is studded with no small amount of plump raisins and roasty walnuts. Its crust is crunchy and sweet. It is really, really good, especially when toasted and slathered with a generous pat of European salted butter.

Which is how I ate it this morning. I felt like a first grader, home from a grueling day of study, comfortable on the back porch, secure in the knowledge that life is good and it is totally acceptable to consume a dozen slices of cinnamon toast.

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The Bread Baker's Apprentice challenge asks that we do not post Reinhart's recipes. But if you have an almost unnatural love of cinnamon sugar, turn your copy of the book to page 147 and get to sprinkling.

Also be sure to check out additional cinnamon-sugary goodness!

• Flour Girl makes cinnamon sugar-encrusted cinnamon raisin cranberry rolls. Say that five times fast.
• Two Skinny Jenkins rolls out her dough even thinner for a more defined cinnamon-sugar swirl. Brilliant.
• Paul at The Yumarama Bread Blog considers raisin bread to be a "treat" bread, and plans to treat himself a little more often. Check out his excellent step-by-step photos.

My grand plans for incredible garden organization

I do believe some sort of celebration is in order. For I have harvested the first item of food from this summer's vegetable garden!

Hm, you think to yourself. Is that a variety of green pumpkin? A decorative gourd? No, and no. Dear friends, that is some sort of funky round light green zucchini. If I had my wits about me, I would be able to tell you exactly what it is. Because everything started out in such a promising fashion. All my seedlings, thriving happily under their grow lights, were labeled neatly in the fashion of Martha Stewart.

But when it was time to transplant the tender seedlings to larger peat pots -- and start bringing them outside during the daytime to soak up the spring sun -- all hell broke loose. I lost track of what was what. I had 10 plastic trays of multiple varieties of tomatoes, zucchini, pumpkins and cucumbers all mingling with one another like sophomores at Sadie Hawkins. My neat identifiers -- wooded craft sticks -- began to fade and split. My grand plans for incredible garden organization were gone, vanished, like the ephemeral perfect spring day.

And I ended up with funky round light green zucchini whose proper name totally eludes me.

But I posit: Who the heck cares? It is funky, and round, and light green. Cut into it and make some dinner, already.

I mixed julienned slices of it with some rigatoni, goat cheese, oregano and a tad bit of pesto the other night and was rewarded with a flavorful dish that simply sang of the summer garden. It was light and fresh and completely satisfying. Satisfying because it tasted good, satisfying because I had grown one of its component ingredients myself from a teeny tiny seed. Satisfying because it was self-reliant and creative.

But most of all: satisfying because I know there are more funky round light green zucchini waiting for me out there, growing in the seasonal sun of my back yard.

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RIGATONI WITH ZUCCHINI AND GOAT CHEESE

You can omit the pesto from this recipe if you don't have any on hand, but it does add a nice creaminess to the finished dish.

3 T. olive oil

1/2 small (or 1/4 medium) red onion, finely chopped

1/2 t. sea salt

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

1 zucchini, julienned (or half a funky round light green one, if you can get it)

1/2 t. freshly-ground black pepper

2 T. fresh oregano, chopped, divided

1 lb. rigatoni

2 oz. goat cheese

3 T. pesto

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.

While the water is coming to a boil, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat, then add the onion and salt and cook until the onion is translucent and begins to brown, 8-10 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another 3 minutes, stirring often.

Add the zucchini, black pepper and 1 T. of the oregano and lower the heat to medium-low. Cook, stirring often, until the zucchini softens, about 10 minutes.

When the water is boiling, add the rigatoni and cook according to the package directions until the pasta is al dente. Drain the pasta through a colander set over a liquid measuring cup or bowl, reserving some of the cooking liquid.

Add the drained pasta and about 1/4 c. of the cooking liquid to the zucchini mixture and stir to combine. Cook for about 2 minutes, then transfer the pasta to a large serving bowl. Add the goat cheese and pesto and stir to combine, adding a little more of the reserved pasta water to make a looser sauce, if necessary (I usually end up adding about another 1/4 c. of the water). Garnish with the remaining 1 T.of oregano and serve.

Serves 4.

Snapshots from a traveler #4

This is an old photo from my first trip to Australia. I remember going to this shop with Kerrie for the essentials like bread and milk. I would like to grocery shop like this all the time -- small stores, owned by people you know. The note I wrote on the back of this photo says, "Mrs. Cartwright." I'm assuming that's her, in the plaid skirt and blue sweater? Sadly, I don't remember that detail. But I do remember shopping there, very vividly.

Clarke's Quality Fruit and Vegies, Blaxland, New South Wales, Australia, 1990.

Bread Baker's Apprentice 8/43: cinnamon buns

So Husband's birthday was the 4th of July. Which, of course, is a national holiday. Which means we got a three-day weekend. During which time there were a lot of fun things going on, including but not limited to: cooking out, eating out, shopping for a new swimsuit, baking a cake, trolling the flea market with Mom and eating gigantic scoops of pistachio and chocolate ice cream perched perilously atop a waffle cone.

But Husband had to leave town on the night of the 4th for a business trip -- and holiday weekends can't last forever. So I found myself alone yesterday in a holiday-less house (thank goodness for the dog!) with just the laundry and sundry chores to occupy my time. I tend to feel a little let down when holidays and special occasions are over as it is, but yesterday hit me particularly hard. I thought about taking a nap, but that seemed too depressing. I puttered around the garden for a bit, but then ran out of cut-up pantyhose (which I use to stake my tomatoes). I contemplated the rust that is overtaking my hollyhocks, and then decided that I must be getting really old. I meandered back into the kitchen and remembered that I hadn't yet baked this week's Bread Baker's Apprentice challenge recipe: cinnamon buns. Then it dawned on me. Cinnamon buns make everything better!

I thought I knew about good cinnamon buns. But as I'm realizing with each passing week of The Bread Baker's Apprentice challenge, I knew nothing about bread-baking before. I can confidently divide my baker's existence into two eras: Before Reinhart (BR) and After Reinhart (AR). I thought my BR cinnamon buns were the bomb. But now that I have entered the great period AR, I know now what a truly great bun is. The BR cinnamon buns are arresting in their size and sweetness, but their crumb is not as tender as it should be and you don't get a taste of cinnamon sugar with every bite. Perhaps if I went back and baked those BR buns again -- with the knowledge that I have gained AR regarding gluten development and the windowpane -- those BR buns would be better. But as it is, Reinhart's cinnamon buns are so amazing I don't know if I'll ever have a need to go back. You live, you learn. You bake a better cinnamon bun.

Reinhart's buns have a perfect soft and tender crumb. Even without the addition of copious amounts of cinnamon sugar and a deluge of perfect sweet glaze, these buns could win an award on the merit of their crumb alone. If they gave out such awards. They should give out such awards! Anyway. I imagine using this dough for any number of applications: perhaps rolled with homemade strawberry jam and coarsely chopped walnuts? Or maybe just rolled with dried strawberries and topped with a lemon glaze. You could bake them plain, with no filling whatsoever, and they would still make you happy.

All that said, the buns are perfect as written in Reinhart's recipe, rolled with cinnamon-sugar and iced with a simple homemade glaze (I punched mine up with a teaspoon of almond extract). There is enough glaze to cover each bun in a thin cloak of sugar. Each bite therefore contains wonderful crumb, cinnamon-sugar and a taste of glaze.

I ate one (OK, maybe two), took a few over to the neighbors' house and sent a few over to Mom and Dad's house. As I enjoyed the buns, still warm from the oven, I felt a smile creep across my face. For as much as I was trying to be depressed about the waning weekend, Reinhart's bun wouldn't let me. You will be happy, said the cinnamon bun. You may have an empty house, but you have me.

Well, had.

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The Bread Baker's Apprentice challenge asks that we do not share the recipes from Reinhart's book. Do you have your copy already? I am certain that you do. So. Wipe that mopey post-long-weekend frown off your face and turn to page 143. The cinnamon buns are waiting.

Also check out these excellent buns from my fellow Bread Bakers:

• Kelly at Something Shiny makes awesome cinnamon twists, and notes quite correctly that this is the first cinnamon bun that she's ever had that still tasted great the second day.
• No Fear Entertaining gets up at 4:00 a.m. to have her cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven for breakfast.
• The Other Side of Fifty stashes her fat pants in the freezer and digs into some gorgeous cinnamon buns.

Happy birthday Husband and Country

This is the thing about being born on the 4th of July, I have learned: you tend to think that all the pomp, celebrations, cookouts and pretty explosions are in the sky are just for you.

Husband's birthday is today and he has always been of the opinion that the patriotic bunting at ballparks is in honor of him. And why not? A national holiday is a grand time to have a birthday. (Most) people are off work. (All) people are in the mood to celebrate. (Nearly) everyone craves a beer and a cookout. (Select few) people are even stuffing their faces with Nathan's at Coney Island (congratulations Joey Chestnut, back-to-back-to-back hot dog eating champion). The weather is gorgeous. It's a nice time to get a little older.

As diligent readers of this space know, I tend to take birthday cakes pretty seriously. So what to do for Husband's big day? Well, naturally, something to do with the flag. For not only does he share his birthday with our nation's, but he also happens to be one patriotic fellow. So while I could make a cake in the shape of a marathon runner or Howard Stern or Mr. Met -- his other loves -- a flag just felt right. And I happened to come across this brilliant idea a few days ago. The timing was perfect.

This festive flag cake is much easier to create than it looks. Really. But don't tell anyone. Pretend it was really complex; pretend you made it up yourself. People will think you are incredibly inspired. It will be our little secret. I used a white cake recipe from The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook, but you can, of course, use any ol' white cake recipe that you like. You can even use a cake mix from a box. Just be sure to pick up some red and blue food coloring. See? I told you it was easy.

As I write, I can hear fireworks outside my open window. A distant, festive popping -- punctuated by the occasional boom -- that is the sound of a nation at play. And a husband who's a year older.

Happy birthday, love!

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AMERICAN FLAG CAKE

Adapted from The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook (cake), 17 and Baking (concept) and The Joy of Cooking (frosting)

Note: It is best to bake the cakes the night before you wish to assemble and serve the cake; the overnight rest in the fridge makes the individual layers very easy to cut and frost.

Additionally, once you cut the layers, there is quite a bit of "waste" involved with this cake. But! Do not throw it away! You can save it and serve it, cut into pieces, with ice cream. Delish.

For the cake:

1 c. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 c. sugar

4 large eggs, at room temperature

1 1/2 c. self-rising flour

1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour

1 c. milk

1 t. vanilla extract

Red food coloring

Blue food coloring

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease and lightly flour three 9-inch round cake pans, then line the bottom with waxed paper.

Place the butter in the bowl of an electric mixer. Using the paddle attachment, cream the butter until smooth. Add the sugar gradually and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

In a large bowl, sift the flours together. Whisk together the milk and vanilla extract. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture in four parts, alternating with the milk/vanilla mixture, beating well after each addition.

Divide the batter in thirds. Using the red food coloring, dye one third of the mixture red. Dye another third blue. Leave the last third as is; it is the white layer. You will have to use more food coloring that you think to achieve bright colors; don't be shy. Just make sure you stir the food coloring in well to avoid streaks.

Pour the dyed batters into the prepared pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out on a wire rack to cool completely. Once completely cool, wrap the cakes in plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for a few hours, preferably overnight.

For the frosting:

16 oz. cream cheese

10 T. unsalted butter, at room temperature

4 t. vanilla extract

4 c. powdered sugar, sifted

Place the cream cheese, butter and vanilla extract in the bowl of an electric mixer. Cream together until well-combined and fluffy. Gradually add the powdered sugar, mixing very well to combine and make a smooth frosting.

The frosting can be made a day ahead and stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator. Be sure to allow enough time for the frosting to come to room temperature before using.

How to put the cake together:

Remove the cakes from the refrigerator and unwrap. Place the red layer on a cutting board or lazy susan. Using a serrated knife, cut horizontally along the top of the cake to remove any "hump" that may have been created when the cake rose while baking. You want the cake to be flat on top, not curved.

Then, using a serrated knife, cut the red layer horizontally into two discs of equal thickness. I find it easiest to hold the knife relatively still and turn the cake, gently sawing through the cake as it turns. You will end up with two red layers that are approximately 1" thick.

Repeat this process with the white layer. You will end up with two white layers that are approximately 1" thick.

Set aside one of the red 1" layers and one of the white 1" layers -- you will use them later, intact.

Even out the top of the blue layer -- as you did with the red and white -- but do not cut the blue layer in half horizontally. Leave it whole. It will be approximately 2" thick.

Stack one of the white 1" layers on top of one of the red 1" layers. Then stack the blue layer on top. Place an overturned bowl with about a 7" circumference on the top of the stack to use as a guide. Again using a serrated knife, cut around the bowl, cutting a circle straight down through all of the layers. You will end up with 3 rings and 3 small cut-out circles, one each of red, white and blue. (You will only use the blue ring and the white and red small cut-out circles.)

(Blue ring)

(White and red small cut-out circles)

To assemble the cake: place the uncut white layer on a platter or cake board. Cover it with a thin layer of frosting.

Place the uncut red layer on top of it, then cover with a thin layer of frosting.

Next, place the blue ring on the cake.

Cover the inside of the ring with a thin layer of frosting (this will help the pieces of cake adhere to one another).

Place the small white cut-out circle inside the blue ring, then cover it with a thin layer of frosting.

Finally, place the small cut-out red circle inside the blue ring, pressing down to make the top of the cake even.

Cover the entire cake with a thin "crumb coat" of frosting, then refrigerate for at least an hour.

When you are ready to serve, remove the cake from the refrigerator and cover with the remaining frosting (you might have a little frosting left over for a rainy day). To create the "firework" effect on the top, drag an offset spatula in concentric circles on the top of the cake.

Using a skewer or toothpick, starting from the center gently draw lines out toward the edge of the cake.

Don't tell anyone what's inside the cake. Just tell them it's a white cake. They will ooh and aah when you cut into it.

Happy 4th of July, and happy birthday Husband!

Serves 12.

All scapes, all the time

While I am aware that this blog is not titled, "A Stove With Some Garlic Scapes Around It," I nevertheless cannot stop cooking with the little suckers. They are tasty, and abundant, and versatile. And each Saturday morning the kind folks at the Thaxton family's farmers' market stand give me another idea for how to cook with them. So at least for now -- before the garlic itself is ready to harvest -- I am all scapes, all the time.

Well, today I am actually all scapes and all broccoli all the time. There was some delicious-looking broccoli at the farmers' market last weekend, too, and it would have been wrong for me not to pick up some. Especially since it was being sold by a little Amish boy who was as cute as cute can be. The broccoli looked so good -- lots of long, tender stem and big, loose florets. Lately we've been feeding a lot of broccoli to the dog, because I read it's a good way to stave off cancer in pups. Sadly, I hadn't been feeding it to myself very much, at least not until I bought this bunch from the adorable little Amish lad.

The Thaxtons had a dish of lightly sauteed garlic scapes simply dressed with olive oil and sea salt at their stand as an example of one way to cook with scapes. With my large bunch of broccoli in hand, I tasted the scape. Yum. Putting two and two together I determined that sauteed garlic scapes and roasted broccoli would be just the thing to accompany thin spaghetti. The long scape would mimic the long strands of pasta, mildly flavoring the dish, and the slight crunch of the roasted broccoli florets would bring a mellow flavor and wonderful texture to the gathering. Add a dash of red pepper flakes and a squeeze of lemon and what you have, dear friends, is a fabulous way to eat your healthy vegetables and use up your fresh farmers' market stash.

Just in time to make room for next week's haul of scapes.

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SPAGHETTI WITH ROASTED BROCCOLI AND GARLIC SCAPES

2 c. broccoli florets and stems, cut into bite-size pieces

4 T. olive oil, divided, plus a little more to drizzle over the finished dish

1/2 t. sea salt, divided

1/2 t. freshly-cracked black pepper, divided

1 lb. spaghetti

5 garlic scapes, cut into 3-inch pieces

2 T. freshly-squeezed lemon juice

Pinch red pepper flakes, to taste

Grated Pecorino cheese, to garnish

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the broccoli, 2 T. of the olive oil, 1/4 t. of the sea salt and 1/4 t. of the black pepper into a casserole dish and toss to combine. Roast in the oven for about 30 minutes, or until the broccoli is slightly browned and crispy on the edges. Remove from the oven and set aside.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and cook the spaghetti according to the package directions until it's just al dente. While the pasta is cooking, place the remaining 2 T. olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic scapes, the remaining 1/4 t. sea salt and remaining 1/4 t. black pepper. Cook the scapes until they begin to brown and soften, about 5 minutes.

Drain the cooked pasta, reserving some of the pasta cooking water. Add the pasta to the skillet with the garlic scapes and stir to combine. Add the roasted broccoli and about 1/2 c. of the pasta cooking water; stir everything together and cook, over medium heat, for 2-3 minutes. Add the lemon juice and red pepper flakes and stir to combine.

Serve with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkling of Pecorino cheese. Goes well with a beer poured into a stubby little glass, just like the old Italians do.

Serves 4. This pasta tastes even better the next day, and therefore makes a most excellent lunch. Your coworkers will be all, "What is in your pasta?" And you will be all, "Garlic scapes." And they will be all, "What?"

Snapshots from a traveler #3

OK I know I posted a Galapagos photo last week, but you see yesterday was Mom's birthday. So to celebrate that momentous occasion I thought I'd share a totally cute photo of her with a sea lion. I remember thinking at the time that she was talking to it much like she talks to her dog, which makes sense because sea lions are so much like dogs. They are, truly -- what with all the barking and the adorable snouts and whatnot.

Santa Fe, Galapagos, Ecuador -- November/December 1999.