Bread, Aged and Perfected

I have a bit of a history with stale bread - a lineage with a lot of love.

I first learned the benefits of aged bread from my Dad who would masterfully turn it from hard and tasteless, to the world's best turkey stuffing by letting it soak up the juices and flavors deep within the cavernous depths of a 25-pound bird.

Stale bread took on a new delectable dimension when we discovered Breadworks rustic sourdough boules and their ability to hold their own against a cointreau scented soak, making Sunday morning breakfasts the best French toast feasts ever. 
 
In Eighth grade, stale bread reached epic literary heights when two of my best friends were caught, tried, and suspended Jean Val Jean style for stealing a loaf of it from the cafeteria for a mold-growing science project. It became their infamous bond - one that I wasn't cool enough to own - one that I honestly envy.

When I became your friendly neighborhood deli girl at La Charcuterie in high school, equipped with a firm understanding of the properties and potential of aged bread, I became a champion and savior of many neglected loaves that would have been tossed to the curb at the end of the deli's day. I would bring them home to my carb-enamoured family and we would prey on them.

More recently, bread was a staple and vital factor in the daily operations of the restaurant in Pittsburgh that I managed. The baker, an artisan genius, who had a knack for making my mornings fragrantly glorious, would create dozens of loaves of bread, rolls, brioche, and burger buns on a daily basis. Depending on our volume of diners and the hunger levels of the servers and runners who would sneak pieces here and there, there would either be a little or a lot left over. The remains were creatively turned into adventurous sweet and savory bread puddings by the pastry chef the following day.

Yesterday, after an uber-packed and exhausting weekend, I opened the refrigerator to consider what I could easily make for dinner given the refrigerator's contents. I found three half-eaten day to three day-old French baguettes in my selection set. I felt bad for them - like they needed some love - like they needed to be more than croutons. So I did some Panade, or bread casserole, research.    

I had been through several of these recipes before. But yesterday, I stumbled upon the New York Times' version. I liked the addition of milk/cream and the layering that they used. So I tweaked it a bit, accounting for Peter's pork needs and my desire to use up other ingredients in the house, and came out with this. (Don't judge the appearance - the bread at the bottom, is incredible.)

In our opinion, it was the best Panade recipe yet, and added another great chapter to my stale bread story.  It was fast, easy, fun to make, and allotted us a great 30-40 minute baking window to watch a little Downton Abbey.

Lo.

A Great Panade
2 cups, stale crusty bread, cut into 1 inch pieces. Baguettes work very well. 
1/2 pound Italian Sausage (mild or spicy)
1 small butternut squash cut into 3/4 inch cubes
4 cloves garlic
Splash of olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 shallot, minced
1 cup cream
2 cups chicken stock
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup Cannellini beans
1 bundle spinach, chopped (about 1 cup)
Teaspoon each of parsley, basil and thyme, chopped
1 cup shredded Fontina or Parmesan cheese.
 
Brown the Italian Sausage, set aside.

Roast Butternut Squash and garlic, drizzled with a small amount of olive oil for 15 minutes at 400 degrees. Remove, set aside. Reduce heat to 375 degrees.

In a small sauce pan, melt butter and saute shallot for 2 minutes. Add stock, cream, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil and then let simmer for five minutes. 

Line a 2-inch deep baking pan (perhaps the same one that you prepared the butternut squash in) with the bread. Layer sausage on top of the bread, then butternut squash and garlic on top of the sausage, then the beans, then the spinach. Pour all of the milky mixture over the casserole, and then top with cheese. Bake for 30-40 minutes.