Baguettes

It's late, I'm exhausted, and I have to get up early to enter grades, but I had to show you my baguettes.

I'm skipping around Reinhardt's book now, completely against the Merry Baker project's initial game plan, but I feel confident enough now to eschew structure in favor of desire. And this weekend's desire was for baguettes.

Baguettes to go with a Father's Day/ Parents' 34th Wedding Anniversary Feast. Fennel-Honey pork loin chops, mashed potatoes with caramelized onions and fennel, a roasted beet and carrot salad, and a green salad. Plus my father-in-law's wickedly strong martinis, Manhattans, and whiskey sours. I began wishing I hadn't macerated the strawberries in brandy.

This recipe was popular with the crowd and ridiculously easy to make: you mix up a basic lean dough recipe on day one, let it ferment in the fridge overnight, make (almost) the same recipe again on day 2, combine the doughs, and voila! Crusty, chewy baguettes with a moist crumb and pleasing, caramelized flour taste.

The hardest part of this project, as always, was the shaping and slashing. I thought I'd cut my dough into three equal parts, but as my father pointed out, it ended up being more of a Papa Bear, Mama Bear, Baby Bear affair. I'm pleased with the slashes, but they should be more dramatic; I hesitated, concentrating more on the perpendicular nature of the slash than its length or depth, resulting in very shallow cuts.

My father-in-law called them formidable.

My mom called them delicious.

And I'm calling it a night.

Cinnamon Raisin Bread--Hold the Raisins

First, I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to my baking partners, Glenna, Jonathan and Kate, who have abandoned me to pursue non-yeast-oriented weekend activities. Yes, the Merry Bakers is a smaller band (of one) now, but like the heroes of yore I will persevere against the armies of darkness.

By which I mean, of course, the vast minions of Cooked Raisins.

Cooked raisins are an abomination. Bloated and squishy, cooked raisins are the zombies of the food world, resurrected from a pleasant dessicated existence to wreak havoc on your mouth. I know that some people like them, take pleasure in the way cooked raisins burst between the teeth, coating the tongue in rotten grape, but for me, raisins are the surest way to ruin a baked good. Almost like whole walnuts in a brownie, but that's a contentious issue for another occasion and, truth be told, I'll eat pretty much anything if it's surrounded by chocolate. Even, perhaps, a cooked raisin (it has happened; and woe betide my mouth).

Knowing that I would dislike the results of Reinhardt's original Cinnamon Raisin Bread, and not being charitable enough to bake it anyway and give it to friends, I switched the raisins for dried cranberries.

(I know what you're thinking: dried cranberries are just dried raisins of a different hue. Here, however, you are wrong. Dried cranberries cooked are tart and bright in flavor, unlike the sweet earthy cooked raisin. They also don't spray juice into your mouth when you bite down; instead, you get a chewy, fruity note that complements the subtle spicing in the bread.)

And the bread, true to all of Reinhardt's recipes, is really delicious. The cinnamon and sugar in the dough add enough sweetness to make this a nice breakfast loaf, but I just as happily ate the toasted slices with sharp cheese or almond butter. It would even make a nice turkey sandwich, especially with a thin layer of cream cheese. I did alter the formula slightly, by substituting roughly 1 1/4 C whole wheat flour for the white. That ended up being the right amount, as it didn't alter the density of the dough too much (though I did have to add more liquid) and it intensified the toastiness of the walnuts. I also felt a little better getting some whole grains into my system after a winter of Reinhardt's decadent white flour recipes.

However you cut or slice it, raisins or no, all white or partially so, this is a very lovely bread. Perfect for the Portland rainy season, when you just want to sit with a cup of chai and smell something delicious in the kitchen.

(Note: I'm not hiding a picture of the finished product out of shame; my camera needs batteries!)--Rhianna