I call the sunflower the fun-flower. Am I right?
I couldn’t help myself. I’m weak. Weak, I say.
In Other News ~
Most of the farm markets I frequent in my neck of Canadaland will be closing at the end of October, so I have been scurrying hither and yon to gather corn and root vegetables and, because Thanksgiving is next weekend, a pumpkin and a freaky gourd or ten.
Shoulda just thrown the wheelbarrow in the back of the car.
I like this time of year. The produce is decorative and edible. Score!
Some time last month, The New Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day book by Jeff Hertzberg, M.D. and Zoë François came to my attention. Where? Where?
Oh, yeah. Here. This post: The food that brought people to tears. Tomatoes on toast. by @ The Art of Doing Stuff.
Note 1 — That wine is for medicinal purposes only. I swear!
Note 2 — Desaturated that image a little bit. The yellow was poking my eye out. You’re welcome.
Karen got me all wound up about making artisan bread in five minutes a day. Just look at her loaf. FYI ~ My first loaf did not look like that. But it’s a learning curve and a process. I’m okay with that.
Got the book. Got the dough bucket. Got the Dutch dough whisk. Got the dough scraper. Got the this. And got the that.
Oops! Where did the slashes go?
Out of the first master recipe, I got two loaves — more oval than round and mysteriously missing their slashes — and I made pizza. One pie looked like the State of Illinois and the other like a kidney bean. On purpose.
It wasn’t pretty but it was inventive and tasty, so I give myself bonus points for that. I’m all about the bonus points. And mushrooms. Man, that dough was elastic, as in s t r e t c h y !
Note 3 — That pizza was in our bellies before I even thought about taking a click.
I also infected LOL Sister (Land of Lincoln) with the artisan-bread-in-five-minutes-a-day virus — because there were never such devoted sisters…
Thank you, Irving Berlin.
She got the book. Got the dough bucket. Got the Dutch dough whisk. Got the dough scraper. Got the this. And got the that.
I’m on my second dough bucket and hunting through the closet for the broken in yoga pants.
s t r e t c h !
Leaves are turning. It was 37-feels-like-31 Fahren this morning.
I call that fresh.
Did I mention we’re only a week from Thanksgiving?!
Fridaaaaay! The first in October. Git outside and do something. Or — you know — kick back with a bucket of bread dough. It’s your call.
You know what to do. Meet you in the bar in 3…2…1…