Sourdough: The Unveiling of My Daniel Leader Whole Wheat Sourdough Miche Inspired by Pain Poilane (Plus: "Dog Patch" Moments)

Looking back, this whole sourdough making experience was a lot easier than I had anticipated. Most of the work took place with me having to do nothing. Well, there were observations as there are with all experiments. But aside from that, it's a fairly hands-off sort of deal. 

However. The week it took to get my formula right had its moments. I have a little "reading" problem, as in, my eyes skip lines, skip pages and skip in general. I've had trouble with this for as long as I can remember. I just wrote it off as being someone with bad eyes and being blonde. After having been "in glasses" since I was six years old, I've always had to work a bit harder to "read". I am generally aware enough of this issue and just deal. 

Vegan Coconut Macadamia Nut Shortbread Cookie Or Beige Food Stuff from My Kitchen (Caution: sourdough starting AND crochet wrapping included!)

I've been in a rut lately. This is our third batch of these coconut shortbread cookies. I'm finding it difficult to "move on". They're the perfect beige food. (I have this overly obsessive nature--thus the "three batches" thing.) It all started with a cookie craving. I had to have a cookie with a long shelf life, and one that would step in as a late night dessert. These cookies aren't fussy. They have a light crumb--and I find the added coconut with macadamia nuts to be as close to heaven as you can get if chocolate isn't happening for you. (Rare. I know.) 

Indian Spiced Quinoa Patties with Farmer's Market Corn Medley (OMG: It's Raining!)

I wanted to write about these quinoa patties we'd had for over a week now. But the heat had stifled my writerly self to the point of such despair that I'd contemplated shunning "The Blog" for the remainder of the season until my heart and mind could once again muster the strength to put into words food stuff and my ramblings. Then I had that chocolate moment last week and that sort of broke the spell. Thank. God.

Chocolate Chip Oat Bran Muffins (Garden Dispatch: 110 Degrees)

Yes. I baked. Out of necessity. Out of the need for comfort, for kitchen time, for sanity . . . for chocolate. It was not a difficult decision for me. This baking moment. I wanted to bake to heal. 

What's wonderful about being a cookbook lover is that in the midst of all that is awful in the world right now, I need only enter the small space that is my kitchen, place a hand on the spine of a book and therein lies emotional recovery. I chose the path of chocolate for mine.

Heirloom Tomato Pot Pie with Biscuity-Thick Crust

I hadn't turned my oven or stove on in over a week. I felt like a ghost in my kitchen. My dear oven sat unused. My stove beckoned. My heart craved pastry. I had twelve pounds of tomatoes taking up some valuable kitchen real estate. No complaints. I'm just saying. Actually, I'm tickled to death over my abundant tomato harvest this year. I'd even go so far as to say "giddy". The rest of my yard, however, is sporting beige tones. Sigh. I promised myself I'd abstain from whining about this godforsaken summer.  

Jam Sessions ("A Little Nina Simone Would Do You Good" And My Summer Drought Harvest)

When I heard the temps would be in the "dangerous/triple digits" range for an undetermined period of time, I made a mad dash to the store for provisions: canning jars, Bing cherries, Rainier cherries, plums, blueberries (two pounds each), sugar, lemons and chocolate. If things were going to get bad, really bad, I wanted: bread, homemade cherry plum jam, Pandora (my Nina Simone station!), chocolate and my favorite espresso--Lavazza. I pretty much lived off these things the past few weeks--give or take. 

My Scorched Garden

If I were to come across this photo, I'd guess it a late-September mid-October shot. Never would I imagine it late June. Never. My beautiful white-flowering hydrangea--just now beginning its bloom. It will suffer through and bloom as much as it can, then begin to slowly die back as if it were October and a chill were on its way. The strain of the heat prompting it to bloom early. That's what plants do--bloom to survive. We take for granted all the work that goes into flowering. It is their desire to live--to go on--that causes the blooms.

This afternoon our county issued a heat warning and fire-burning warning to all residents via the emergency call system they have in place. I saved the message on the machine so Dr. Thyme can listen when he gets home. 

 The temperature is at 108 as I type. The forecast is calling for more of the same for the next seven days (or longer). No rain. We are all praying for rain. I know much of the entire country is under this unimaginable heat--some battling through fire on top of it all. I cannot even begin to imagine. Our hearts are with you. 

Diversions And Delusions (There Be Wool: Knitters Unite . . . And Colbert's Feet to Benefit)

It's officially summer. I'm officially ready for winter. So much so that I've begun my "winter knitting"--starting first with a beautiful cowl (the Honey cowl) in Kelly Green--for obvious reasons this color speaks to me. I love, love, love knitting this cowl. The textured pattern is both squishy and fluid--better yet--I can practically manage working it with my eyes closed. It's a simple and brilliant design. Who knew that a mere "wyif" and "p1"  combination could create such a wonderful little experience. It does. It has. 

Olive Oil Teff Banana Bread (Superstition: A Bird in The House)

This morning a bird flew into the house, landed on my slipper and left. Nothing good can come of this. I'd JUST started my day--it was the crack of dawn for crying out loud. And yet. This bird. There was a loud screeching and what seemed to be a little ruckus going on between this irate cardinal and two smaller sparrows (were they? I have no idea). Since February--this cardinal has found several windows around our home offensive--slamming himself into his reflection with such regularity that I have actually begun to ignore him or simply get through the day oblivious to his C-R-A-Z-Y. 

Rustic Peach Apple Galette (Roll It. Pile It. Fold It. Bake It.)

The hands-on time for this dessert is under fifteen minutes. The result is unabashedly sublime. To gild the lily, a scoop of vanilla bean coconut ice cream served in a bowl with a slab of the galette, and all will be right with the world. I've noticed the supermarket slowly receiving "not-quite-seasonal-for-Missouri" produce. Last week there were the bing cherries and Georgia peaches. The cherries really tempted me. I cannot resist them once the full line of cherries arrive. But even I have standards. It's far too early for a decent cherry. But the peaches. . . they were in perfect condition. They had that peachy aroma. Plus they were displayed in individually slotted spaces in cardboard boxes. As if the shipping box was specifically designed just for the semi-long trip they had getting to Missouri from Georgia. I came home with two pounds. My impulse control was low, what can I say.