There are many things to do with old bread. If it's not too hard, you can thin slice it and bake it with a little fat (olive oil, butter, lard...) to make crackers, or cube it up for croutons. You could even toast and crush it into bread crumbs, I suppose, if you didn't mind the unholy racket of your food processor. Or you can practice the peasant trick of adding leftover bread to soup, as with Italian ribollita. The last is especially nice in this wet, soupy season. But the most interesting of all the old-bread repurposings, I think, is to re-ferment it into a drink. Kvass, or kwas, or квас, is a slavic soda made from old bread. Actually, after digging deeper into the astonishing, meandering mind of Sandor Katz, I learned that kvass can refer more generally to northern European low-alcohol fermented drinks, like the beet kvass you might use for borscht, or lettuce kvass, which was once a common summer drink among my Ukrainian ancestors, before the shtetls were exterminated by the Holocaust (I'll admit, I'm skeptical of the deliciousness of lettuce soda, but am willing to try this summer when greens are abundant). I am far from a kvass expert, but if you'd like to try this strange and lovely drink for yourself, the general idea is simple:
On the new bread front, I'm baking Red & White, Mountain Rye, and Wild & Seedy this week. Order HERE by 10 am tomorrow for Wednesday pickup.
Happy Sunday! Sophie I stopped by the library last night after work and walked into light and noise. The whole front room was full of children in face paint and glitter, dancing to "The Cape." The surprise and sweetness of the scene made my throat ache. "What is this?" I asked the librarian. "We wanted to make a place for people to come together," she answered, and that, too, was an ache after a day spent skimming the surface of internet news and despair. My bread for the farmers' market today are stenciled with my solidarity with the Womxn's March I'll be missing while standing behind my booth. I hesitated for a moment over the political stencils. I don't like making people uncomfortable, and the thought of alienating customers worried me. Being bold would be easier, I thought, if I had a regular job with a real paycheck that couldn't be threatened by my politics. But I was immediately embarrassed by my cowardice. It's true that the living I earn through this little bakery is marginal at best, and that losing customers would have real consequences for my bottom line, but this is Bellingham. Who's really going to care? And, more importantly, what does it matter if I take a tiny step outside the lines when my race, age, health, family, education, and savings account cast a wide net to catch me should I stumble? If someone as privileged as I hesitates to speak, who can I expect to step up? So I got out the matte knife and started cutting. (1) I'm especially fond of the vulva stencils (I haven't yet gotten around to taking a picture so you'll just have to come see for yourself). They're an answer to the new president's pussy grabbing and to the dominance of cat euphemisms in a feminist community that shouldn't be afraid of female genitalia. And they're a finger to my own discomfort with confrontation. Today, of all days, I will not be embarrassed by my body or by any other female body. We must all learn to live proudly in our skins as they come increasingly under threat. We fight hardest for what we love.
Besides the Red & White vulva loaves and the Red, White, & Blue Corn bread of solidarity, I have Mountain Rye, and Smoky Vollkornbrot. There are also Malted Chocolate Chip Cookies, Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies, Brown Butter Shortbread, Plum & Anise Torte, and Seriously Gingerbread to fuel your morning's march or to pick you up at the end. Next Wednesday's offerings are Red & White, Mountain Rye, and Rosemary Sea Salt breads. You can order a loaf HERE. See you soon. Or a little later after the march. Sophie Owner | Baker | Feminist (1) I realize that this is a tiny decision. When friends and strangers are being pepper sprayed at protests and arrested during direct actions, when people live every day under threat of violence and arrest because they are perceived to be Other, worrying about political bread stencils is self-indulgent. But I'm also unlikely to ever be a full-time activist, lawyer, lobbyist, or politician. I am a full time baker. If I can weave greater social consciousness through the environmentalism that already defines my work every day, maybe eventually all those days of small decisions will add up to bravery. Well, it's almost time to start baking again. Or rather, to start production baking. I've been doing plenty of home baking in these weeks since the last farmer's market. Just yesterday I made nine loaves of bread and six dozen cookies to take on our weekend ski trip. We're going to be so busy eating it might be hard to find time to ski. But when we do head out, we'll have plenty of butter, chocolate, and PB&J sandwiches to keep us going. I'll be keeping my sourdough warm by the wood stove all weekend, and come Tuesday, it's back to the bakery to get ready for the first week of the Winter Bread Subscription. If you were unlucky enough to miss signing up, don't despair. For an extra $1 a loaf, you can still buy bread for pick up on the website. Orders must be placed by Sunday night for pick up the following Wednesday. On the menu for next week are Red & White, Mountain Rye, and Oats & Honey. Wednesday Bread Pickup:
I'll also be at the Winter Farmers Market next weekend (third Saturday of the month January - March) with a full lineup of breads and pastries. Stop by to stock up, or refuel, for the Bellingham Womxn's March. Acme Farms + Kitchen has pulled together the ultimate bake sale fundraiser with donations from a dozen other rad local food businesses (myself included). Order a cookie box online to sample treats from bakers across Bellingham. 100% of the proceeds will go to the Mount Baker Planned Parenthood. This is an excellent reason to eat cookies.
I find it hard to feel anything but dread and disempowerment in the face of our national political clusterfuck. You (and I) should probably still scream and shout and take to the streets and write our representatives about national issues, even when it feels like no one is listening. But just as important is taking political action in our communities where our voices, our bodies, our dollars, can have a real and understandable impact. I don't do enough. I get busy, or money is tight, or I'm tired or distracted or too shy to step forward. I make excuses. But making and sharing food, that's easy. And I care about women's rights and reproductive health in a visceral, angry, desperate way that makes baking for this fundraiser a foregone conclusion, as well as a reminder of how much more I need to be doing. So I'll bake cookies this week, and then I'll try harder to speak out, to find five dollars or five minutes to give when I feel tight-fisted with my money or time. I'll try to stand up, even when my shyness is a heart-pounding, brain-scattering, muscle-paralyzing force holding me down. I'll try to remember that even at the end of the world, there's work to be done. If not us, who? If not now, when? |
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