do you remember when this was a food bl*g?

The best day of summer so far:

That brown dot along the tree line is a bear!

It ain't over 'til it's over. Summer, that is.

As the kids these days say, I B MISSING U. That would B U, bitches.

guten morgen, bitches

Sometimes I worry that people who don't see the inherent hilarity of the word bitches won't understand why on this bl*g they're frequently addressed as bitches. Other times I don't worry about this at all.

Some Monday morning reading, bitches.

[Via jshu.]

the mark bittman minimalist club: no-knead bread for monkeys

According to the data I have been collecting here at the high-tech, state-of-the-art GFD lab, one out of three meals I consume consists of leftovers, usually reheated on my Bunsen burner. I'm currently surviving on leftovers from a dinner we made for friends on Saturday night, so for the rest of the week I'm going to share with you some of the menu items from Saturday night's dinner, as well as their later incarnations (which are sometimes identical).


Let's start with the bread, a collaboration (you could call it a threesome) among my husband, the yachtsman; my boyfriend, Mark Bittman; and some other guy. I've never actually made this bread, but the yachtsman tells me it's so easy, a monkey could bake it, which is good news for all of us who own monkeys. It does require 24 hours of lead time, but other than that, effort is minimal, and the results amazing (soft, chewy interior, and a golden-brown crust that shatters). Making this bread is like inviting a supermodel to your dinner party; the bread gets all the attention. Slather a warm slice with salty butter and it's like slathering the supermodel at your dinner party with butter, except not all pervy like you're thinking. It's just really good, really good-lookin' bread, and this is the best butter ever.

No-Knead Bread
Adapted by the yachtsman from the New York Times

3 cups all-purpose, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1½ teaspoons salt

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18 [the yachtsman sez the longer the better], at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it and your fingers with a little more flour and fold the dough over on itself once or twice, then gently shape it into a ball. [The yachtsman puts his ball into a proofing basket but says this is not necessary.] Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

3. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is OK. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

The morning after he baked it, the yachtsman used his supermodel bread to make his haggish wife a griddled egg sandwich. Griddled, bitches. Happy leftovers to me.

delusions

I have to stop myself from starting pretty much every post to this bl*g with "Hey, bitches!" For example, tonight I wanted to write, "Hey, bitches, look at my pet bunny!"


because for some reason that's funnier to me than "Look at my pet bunny."

But seriously, bitches! There's a young Padawan learner in the house. That's right. This couch Jedi has an apprentice, and I am already teaching him the ways of the Force.


But this is not a bl*g about bunnies, it is (in my mind, where I regularly address you all as bitches) a bl*g about food, so here's the recipe for that flan I made last week. This flan is not, in fact, difficult to make. Rather, it is very, very easy (and delicious—rich and creamy but somehow not so filling that we didn't eat the whole thing on Friday night). Just don't try to touch the sugar once it has started to melt, no matter how fascinating it is to you that sugar melts. And remember that after the water bath has spent an hour in the oven, it's a hot water bath.

Leche Flan, Bitches!
This recipe is adapted from a flan made by someone named Kristina who was visiting the yachtsman's step-family's place in the Adirondacks a couple years ago. And when I say "adapted," I mean I changed the name from Leche Flan to Leche Flan, Bitches! Hilarious, right?

Syrup:
¾ cup sugar

Custard:
8 large egg yolks
1 can (12 oz.), evaporated milk
1 can (14 oz.), sweetened condensed milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 350˚. Melt sugar in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Stir as needed to help dissolve any clumps. Remove from heat when amber/caramel colored (3–4 minutes). Immediately pour into a 9” pie plate, 8” round cake pan, or custard cups, tilting to completely cover the bottom of surface with the caramel. Set aside to cool.

2. Whisk all custard ingredients together. Pour over hardened sugar syrup.

3. Place pie plate or custard cups in a large, shallow, and very sturdy roasting or baking pan, and loosely cover with foil. Move to oven and carefully add hot water to achieve a 1” depth in pan, or the amount of water that is halfway up the side of the flan dish.

4. Bake for 50–60 minutes or until center is just set (mixture will jiggle). Individual cups will bake in about 25 minutes, depending on their size.

5. Very carefully remove the pan with the flan (remember: it contains very hot water [this warning was actually in the original recipe. Did I heed it? Never, bitches!). Remove the flan dish(es) from the water to a rack and allow to cool for about 1 hour. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours or overnight.

6. Serve cold. Run a dull knife around the flan to loosen from pan or custard cups and invert into a rimmed dish that can hold the syrup. Garnish with raspberries or a sliced strawberry and mint.

farmer booty

My take from the farmers market included rainbow chard and baby beet greens, D'Avignon radishes, three kinds of cheese, a kale-and-garlic stuffed bread from Naga (where they grow and mill their own wheat -- welcome to Vermont, party people), more microbasil...but I think the highlights are the first strawberries of the season (I feel like I've been waiting my whole life, but in reality winter was a mere nine months long)


and fresh eggs.


While the yachtsman dreams of living on a boat (please don't make me), I fantasize about keeping chickens; if I could have a couple in our 740 square foot apartment, I would. This week, however, I bought my eggs from Boucher Family Farm, where the chickens have more square footage then I do, the lucky bastards. I mean, bitches. I mean, chickens.

P.S.
In an unfortunate turn of events that involved my dog bleeding profusely from the nose while I chased him with a wad of paper towels and cried hysterically, I was unable to make it to the first Summer Fry Fest. But the event was attended by the (vocal) majority of GFD's readership, who promised to take photos while they rudely had fun in my absence. I will post an update when I am updated.