The Brewer, The Baker, and The Mimosa Maker

Had I ever made it to the esteemed ranks of camp counselor, I imagine it would have been very hard to say, 'goodbye' to your campers, especially after a great session.

This evening, that's the way I feel - like I just said goodbye to my very favorite Session 1 camper. And it's a sad, can't wait till next year, keep in touch, long live the memories feeling.   

When we moved this spring, I could already sense it. There was something about living in our new neighborhood that made you feel like you were attending a never-ending session of summer camp. Perhaps it's all the kids or the fact that biking is the preferred mode of transportation. Perhaps it's the large number of parks and pick-up games per capita or the patriotic bunting on gingerbread-esque houses making every day seem like a holiday; Perhaps its the morning competitions along the high school track at sun up, evening competitions block against block at sun down, campfire songs played by garage bands at night, or day upon day lined with your choice of electives.

As a freshman camper, I signed up for the electives that I was already familiar with - running and biking in the morning; writing and fundraising during the day; cooking and gardening in the evening. 

And even though Peter and I are only signed up as big campers right now, I guess this weekend presented us the opportunity to be counselors in training - to invite our first summer camper into our cabin.

She came, trunk packed, ready for non-stop summer fun this weekend.

First things first, as any good counselor would do, I gave her the lay of the land. A 13-mile bike ride through forest, hill and dale. These are the camp grounds - don't go beyond them without your counselor.

The first night brought a hearty dinner - Meatball sandwiches on Bee's baguettes - fuel for the activities ahead. In the evening, we cheered for Uncle Dan, who was doing quite well in the 5K evening competition, while sipping gimlets, the adult version of Canteen's infamous suicide. Campfire was at Bill and Megan's house. The skit where the senior counselors reenacted fast times in Fort Wayne was the best.

Saturday got off to a great start with a little morning competition - the semi-finals to camp's take on the U.S. Open. After a sweaty game, the standings were counselor - 1: camper - 0. There were running and reading electives, and then Saturday night brought a field trip to the big city. The tacos, tats, and Escondida's at Big Star seemed to trump the site and sounds of Conneaut. And Canteen last night was the best - Mario's Italian Ice.

Sunday didn't disappoint either. The finals of morning competition heated up around 9:00 AM. And in a surprising upset, the counselor in training won. We had Chapel or should I say, Church. Then an afternoon learning the ways of the brewer, the baker and the mimosa maker. Our homemade bialy and breakfast sausage brunch was fierce competition for Lake Donut's finest. 

A little while ago, our camper packed her trunk up and I drove her to the airport. So she could fly back to the Burgh where her Mom and Dad would be waiting and excited to hear about all her adventures.

While it's tough to say goodbye to Session 1, like any good counselor, I'm looking forward to session 2. Ellen, you ready?

Lo.

Bee's Bunnies

Growing up, Easter meant bonnets and little white gloves; clipping a big branch of the budding vibernum in our yard and decorating it with miniature Easter ornaments.

Easter meant chocolate bunnies, chocolate eggs and a filled-to-the-brim Jelly Bean machine - confections that I was urged to eat over the course of a couple days, but couldn't help but devour before we had even arrived at Mass.

It meant a trip out to Grandma and Grandpa's house in the afternoon; acre wide Easter egg hunts in their yard; hopefully finding the winning black egg with a potato inside; and then sitting down to a dinner of Grandma's ham with raisin sauce, a square of Jello to my left, an iced bunny roll to my right, and a very hungry me in the middle. Dessert would be nut rolls, apricot nut bars, and a big chocolate cross for each of the grand kids. The cross was essential Easter candy - not so much for its symbolism, but for its surface area. It was huge, dense, and made of the sweetest milk chocolate that Sarris could possibly produce.

As a grown up, Easter celebrations have been dispersed and varied; the holiday traditions haven't transferred into adulthood the same way Thanksgiving or Christmas traditions have. In the past decade, I've had lacrosse games on Easter; I've politely prayed and brunched from Pittsburgh, to South Bend, to Chicago; and I've engaged in the ultimate revelry at Tia and Tom's Las Vegas wedding.

But this year, as I watched Peggy and Jan set out Easter decorations, plan the ham menu complete with Jello, asparagus, and potatoes au gratin, stuff Easter eggs for the big hunt, and make sure each person had a little serving of Jelly Beans by their place setting this week, I felt like I was a kid again. And that Easter was finally going to return to the celebration that I remember.

So, I thought I should pitch in, and add a little bit of Barry to the festivities. I penciled in iced bunny rolls and apricot nut bars to the menu. And today, I baked some of my favorite parts of Easter -  Grandma Barry's specialties that take me right back to her kitchen table, and bond me with a couple of my Aunts in Pittsburgh who I'm pretty sure were baking the same things at the same time.

Exhausted from a day of baking, a 20-mile run and just about the busiest, most sober Lent ever, I'm really looking forward to a fabulous, kid-friendly, sweet, and memorable Easter celebration tomorrow.

Lo.

The Bee's Bunnies

• 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 package active dry yeast
• 3/4 tsp allspice
• 1 1/4 cups milk
• 1/2 cup unsalted butter
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 eggs  

Orange Icing

• 2 cups sifted powder sugar
• 1 tablespoons orange zest
• 2 tablespoons orange juice 
• 2 tablespoons milk

Directions

Combine 3 cups of the flour, yeast, and allspice. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan, over low heat, melt butter, stir in milk, sugar, and salt. Heat till just warm. 

Add milk mixture to dry mixture along with eggs. Stir to combine, add remaining flour bit by bit. Use hands to combine, then knead 3 to 5 minutes. Shape dough into a ball, place in a lightly greased bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm place for 1 hour. 

Punch dough down. Then divide in half. Cover and let rest 10 minutes.

Lightly grease two cookie sheets. 

Roll out half of dough into a 14x10-inch rectangle. Cut into 6 10-inch strips. Roll each strip into a snake shape, about 14 inches long. Form a loop with each roll, leaving extra room at the ends for the ears. Twist and turn over, so you have ears, a head, and open loop. Place on baking sheet. There should be some extra dough. Roll little balls with extra dough and place into open part of loop. Repeat with other half of dough.

After shaping, cover and let rise for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375 degrees. Bake small bunnies 11 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from cookie sheets; cool on wire racks. Frost while warm with Orange Icing. Makes 12 small bunnies.

Icing

In a small bowl combine powdered sugar, orange zest, milk and orange juice. Stir till smooth.

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.