hungry poodle

My very first loaf of whole wheat sourdough bread.

I began baking bread about 30 years ago as a newlywed. Over the years I’ve baked hundreds of loaves, mostly healthful whole grain variations. So dedicated was I to this process that I bought bread flour in 50-lb. sacks from a wholesale distributor. I also purchased bread bags in 200-count quantities, and gave away as many loaves, if not more, than we ate.

I even broke my Kitchenaid mixer from kneading the sturdy whole wheat doughs. The repairman asked me if I was a professional baker, adding that he had never seen this particular part, which was supposed to be permanent, burned up.

I’m nothing if not obsessive.

Until now I had never tried any sourdough recipes, for the simple reason that they require a sourdough starter that one must not only procure, but feed and keep active and alive from loaf to loaf. Sourdough starter is a living thing, and if you kill it, you’re SOL.

Food blogs abound these days, and I’ve been learning a lot about sourdough bread baking, especially from Eric at www.breadtopia.com.  Like me, Eric became enamored of the famous and oft-blogged-about New York Times No-Knead bread recipe, featured here.

To make a long story short, I ended up purchasing a small amount of live sourdough starter from King Arthur Flour, (which they proudly state has descended from a 250-year-old starter in New England) and after carefully following their directions for feeding it and bringing it alive, I made my very first loaf of sourdough, pictured above. It was absolutely delicious, and the most amazing revelation–there is no commercial yeast in this bread. It rises solely on the strength of the sourdough starter.

You have to mix the dough in the evening and allow it to proof overnight at room temperature. This morning I baked a second loaf, and there’s a third slowly proofing in the refrigerator for tomorrow. That’s the thing about great bread–the slower it rises, the crustier the crust and the better it tastes.

How am I enjoying this hobby without permanently packing away my skinny jeans? It isn’t easy; I have to exercise moderation in the strictest sense, and I absolutely have to go to Jazzercise at least every other day. But I don’t lament the fact that I have to be active; I consider it to be my bread consumption dues.

Recent accolades ascribed to the Mediterranean diet brought me back to bread-baking after a long respite. Since whole grain bread is literally “the staff of life” for so many cultures, I figure that, rather than eschew it because of its dreaded “carbs,” we bread-loving Americans should eat only the very best, most delicious and healthful loaves we can get our hands on.

There’s no better way to achieve that goal than to bake your own bread. It’s really not that difficult once you get the hang of it. I suggest that you visit Eric’s blog and view one of his informative videos, starting with the no-knead bread recipe.

A wise poet once said, “A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.”

Truer words were never spoken (especially not during an election year).

Hmmm. And I thought Champ was the only one who looked at me like that.

It’s been three months since the flood at the Bennett house, and I am sorry to report that renovation work has not yet begun, due in large part, to the haggling back and forth between my husband, Champ, the contractors and last but not least, the insurance company.

This reminds me of an old Woody Allen joke: “Today I considered suicide again. This time the method was to walk up next to an insurance salesman and inhale.”

If you are in the insurance business and you are an honorable person, (oxymoron, anyone?) I apologize for that joke.

I confess to being only an intermittently patient person. I can take disarray for just so long and then, in a flash, I come unglued. Unfortunately, this has happened several times and it hasn’t been pretty. Carefully applied mascara has gone awash, sound barriers have been broken, I have thrown embarrassingly infantile hissy fits.

And yet, nothing changes. Don’t you hate when that happens? Or rather, doesn’t happen?

But wait. It’s Spring, the time of year that signifies re-birth, newness, growth. Longer days with abundant sunshine. New beginnings.

Allergies. Sneezing. Itchy eyes.

Obviously time for a serious attitude change. This morning when I opened my email inbox, I found that my best friend, Michael, sent me a gift book via Amazon for my iPad, titled, “The Happiness Advantage: The Seven Principles of Positive Psychology That Fuel Success and Performance at Work”.

Just in the freaking nick of time.

Whitman is having a difficult time acclimating to the weather in Kansas. This morning it snowed big wet snowflakes, then the sun came out and melted all the snow. By mid-afternoon it was warm enough to make a guy pant!

What’s next, a tornado?

Illustration from the book, "French Children Eat Everything", by Karen Le Billon

According to a soon-to-be-released book, French children not only eat their vegetables, they actually like them. Written by Karen Le Billon, “French Kids Eat Everything,” will be released on April 3, 2012. I’ve already pre-ordered a copy for my iPad.

Le Billon, a Canadian married to a Frenchman, got the idea to write the book after she moved with her husband and their two young children to her husband’s home town in Northern France. In Canada she considered her picky-eating daughters to be like most children, but in France they were anything but typical. The French teach their children early on to enjoy all kinds of foods, including vegetables and cheese.

Strict rules, culturally ingrained for generations, are enforced by French parents. One rule is sacrosanct: no snacking. The French feel that if you allow a child to eat throughout the day, he or she may not be hungry enough to eat a healthful dinner, and certainly not hungry enough to taste something they haven’t eaten before.

Another rule, aimed at those unfamiliar foods, is this:  you don’t have to eat it all, but you do have to taste it.

The French are religious about all things culinary; gathering, cooking and eating food is an integral part of their everyday lives. Meals are not rushed. Indeed, the French are appalled at the speed with which we Americans gobble our food. (It’s called “fast” for more than one reason.)

French scientists have concluded that it takes up to seven exposures to a new food before a child will actually like it. Thus, French parents consistently serve these foods at the family dinner table, knowing that their patience will pay off in the long run.

School lunches in France? First of all, snack and soda vending machines are banned in all French schools. Kids from pre-school through high school get four-course lunches which start with a salad or vegetables, followed by  a main course, a different cheese every day and then dessert. We should all eat so well.

When the book comes out I’ll write more about it, but until then, consider how you feed yourself and your family. Do you eat real food? (If you don’t know what it is, Google it, or read my last post about the Mediterranean diet. )

I hate to admit it, but I think the French are on to something.

From "Food Rules, An Eater's Manual", by Michael Pollan, Illustrated by Maira Kalman

Here’s a classic irony: we Americans are fatter than ever; collectively we’re the fattest people on earth, yet we have access to more weight loss diets than you can shake a stick at.

In TV ads Jennifer Hudson sings that she “believes” in Weight Watchers. Mariah Carey lost 30 pounds on Jenny Craig. Janet Jackson swears that Nutrisystem did it for her.

I’ve heard a lot of talk lately about the Paleo diet, otherwise known as the Caveman diet. It proposes eating like we did back in the Paleolithic days (before MacDonalds). You consume meat and vegetables but no grains, legumes, dairy products or alcohol. Shoot me now.

Well, here’s my vote for best overall diet; it’s one that Time Magazine reported on in its February 20, 2012 issue. The title of the article: “Eat Like an Italian,” or specifically, like someone from the southern Italian town of Nicotera. Even more specifically, like someone who lived in Nicotera just after World War II.

In the early 1950′s, American doctor Ancel Keys traveled to Nicotera to learn why Southern Italians, unlike well-fed Americans, had such a low incidence of heart disease. He was responsible for gathering the very first data for a global comparison of eating habits. The results of his studies pointed for the first time to the Mediterranean diet as being the best, healthiest way to eat.

Keys and his fellow scientists studied the daily diets of the people of Nicotera and found that they ate simple meals of whole wheat bread baked in wood-fired ovens, beans cooked in clay pots, accompanied by an abundance of fresh vegetables, dried fruits, nuts and olive oil.

World War II had just ended and people throughout Europe were too poor to afford the luxuries of meat. Subsequently they were 30% to 40% less likely to suffer heart disease than more affluent Americans, who could afford copious quantities of red meat, milk and cheese.

Alas, here is another irony: if you travel to Nicotera today you’ll see almost as many obese people as you would in a typical American shopping mall. Why? Because the classic Mediterranean diet was one of privation, with farmers toiling under arduous circumstances to grow their own food. Today’s Italians don’t farm, they shop at supermarkets filled with the same packaged junk foods as we have. They also can afford meat and they demand it in their children’s school lunches, which is unfortunate because 36% of Italian children now are either overweight or obese.

I love meat as much as the next carnivore, but I am re-thinking its dominant role on my dinner plate. Thomas Jefferson may have gotten it right long before Dr. Keys when he stated that meat should be used sparingly as a condiment for vegetables.

By the way, Dr. Keys not only advocated the Mediterranean diet, he and his wife ate like poor Italians throughout their lives. When he died in 2004, he was 100 years old. Pass the olive oil cruet and the crusty bread.