A vist to the bread museum (okay, so I'm a dweeb)

On a recent trip to Provence, I found myself staying in Bonnieux, where I'd read in a guideboook there was a certain museum of interest. I asked our innkeeper where it was, and he had to consult a map. "You're the first one to ever ask," he said.

Figures. The museum in question was the Bread Museum, or more properly, the Bakery Museum, La Musée de la Boulangerie, and I wasn't leaving town without seeing it. Fortunately, by the time we'd arrived on this rainy Sunday afternoon, the crowds had dispersed, and we had the place almost to ourselves. Other than the plaster figure loading the (authentic) oven  (the museum was formerly a bakery) and some ancient reapers,

much of the museum is devoted to documentation regulating the price of bread and flour -- not the most thrilling collection, but real important if you happened to be living in France a century or two ago. Still, there were some great vintage posters, some neat antique baking instruments, and we had a grand time. So should you ever find yourselves  in Provence on a rainy day, I highly recommend it. If you find it.

Pizza Disastro

What better way to celebrate -- or mourn -- the last week of summer than to make a pizza in the clay oven that had not been used all season long. After some difficulty, I got a good fire going, had the last mojito of summer, then after about an hour, threw in one last piece of firewood and pronounced the oven ready for cooking.

This was so easy! What hadn't I used this thing more? Inside, Anne and I prepared two small pies: one with chorizo and leek, the other with fresh tomatoes and basil. Ten minutes later.... Maybe 15 minutes...Okay, 20 minutes (or more) later I brought both pies out to the oven.

The fire, which had been roaring when I'd last seen it, was nearly out. No matter, I should have enough residual heat. I slid the pie off the peel. No I didn't. I had taken so long to make the second pizza, the first one was by now glued to the peel. I somehow got it into the oven, if a little deformed. Odd... no sizzle. Surely the oven hadn't cooled that much. I put my hand in to test the temp. If you can't keep your hand in for a count of 3 the oven's ready -- I could have left in there all day. I threw in some more wood and huffed and puffed like mad, reviving the fire. Better....now the back of the pie was cooking, but the front was still raw. I tried to rotate it. Ever try to to rotate raw dough in an enclosed space?

Twenty minutes later the pie (which by now resembled a calzone that had been dropped on the ground) was cooked/burned/almost raw, depending on where you looked.

Wising up, the second pie I cooked the way God intended us to cook: in an electric oven on a pizza stone.


Buon appetito!

52 Loaves now available on Kindle

Finally...52 Loaves is available on Kindle, and coming very, very soon (maybe even by the time you've read this) to Nook, iBook, and Sony.

Thanks for your patience, all you e-readers!

Recreating Nana's Potato Bread

I received a distress call from a reader who is trying to recreate a bread she tasted and loved: her "Nana's" potato bread. (Am I the only one who flashes back to the scene in Annie Hall where Woody Allen meets Diane Keaton's parents -- and her "nana" -- whenever I hear that term?)

Anyway, does anyone have any suggestions? The reader's note follows:

I too have spent many hours trying to create a perfect bread and was delighted to hear your story.  I was wondering if you had any suggestions for my own bread journey.My nana always had a homemade bread that was their daily bread. It was this deliciously moist, tasty potato bread that was slightly sweet, with a rich, slightly nutty, moist smell. It could be left on the counter without any covering for a day or so and not get stale.She died was I was in junior high, but at some point, I wrote down the recipe while she was making it one day. I have spent YEARS trying to recreate this recipe and have had no luck. Here is the recipe as I wrote it down.

Boil 2-3 little old potatoes.
Mash in a bowl, working in 3 T. sugar or honey and 3 t. salt. Mash together.

In the meantime, put yeast in potato water or sugar (water)

Alternate a cupful of liquid, then cupful of flour, alternating until like soft cake batter. Put yeast in, let stand until bubbly (about 2 hours). (This is where I become confused with what is considered the liquid. Was it the potato mash or yeast water? Should I combine the yeast water and potato mash? I have tried a dozen variations and can't seem to get it right)


After bubbly, knead in enough flour so that it no longer sticks to your hands. Put in a bowl, grease top, put in over or put wet cloth over it. Rise unt50 miil doubled in bulk.

After doubled in bulk, knead down, cut into greased pan, let rise to top of pan.

Heat over to a little before 350 degrees. Bake about 50 minutes. Turn oven down to 300 degrees after 15 minutes.

I have no exact measurements and have tried to recreate this recipe. I have gotten close to getting the same texture, but I can't recreate the flavor. Do you think this could have to do with the yeast that was floating around that kitchen? Her kitchen always had a delicious smell. She was a big gardener and excellent cook who cooked using local vegetables and herbs from her garden. Her compost was right outside the kitchen. Do you have any suggestions for resources or ideas of how I might recreate the recipe

Largehearted Baker

When the host of the music blog Largehearted Boy invited me to participate in a feature where writers discuss music relevant to their books, my first thought was, "Well, that's a stretch." My second was, "but publicity is publicity," and my third thought (and trust me, three thoughts on any given topic is about my max) was,"this is not such a stretch at all." See why...