I sent a dish back last week at a local bar, where we were enjoying the Spring weather and noshing on chips. The spinach and artichoke dip, a solid standby, usually, was something out of Calvin and Hobbes (flash to the dinner dramas where the food, a blob with an evil attitude, attacks poor innocent Calvin).
When the waitress asked for specific feedback I said it tasted strange, didn't look good, and reminded me of something I'd cook at home, meaning something experimental.
Tonight I'm glad to report a successful chemistry of chicken, half a can of mushroom soup, some mystery sauce (I think chipolte) and fresh broccoli and portabella mushrooms. It's great.
I needed this, after last weekend's VERY sour sourdough pumperknickle rye. Wow was it strong! This came after spending three days on it - or a week, depending on how you count. I had to order the starter, (which arrived quickly) and then feed it for a few days. Then I had to feed it again to get it ready to add to the dough, then the bread itself took two days.
True artisan stuff. Very good, except for that sour part.
We normally inhale my bread and beat off strangers. But I don't even think my Dad liked it. He got the second loaf.
Not a good sign.
I once FedEx'd an early loaf to him, an inedible heavy result. He called me and raved about it. Good old Dad.
That is true love.
Now about Keith not liking my bread....
I'm only half kidding here. He loves my challah, but won't eat it. He hasn't tried the bagels, but loves the rye. I think it's that whole "bad carb" brainwashing going on.
I know, white bread isn't my nutritional favorite, but still. Homemade challah has to get some points for something! And once a week may save your soul, if not your waist line.
More baking adventures next week : same bat time, same bat channel.
They don’t really talk to me anymore
1 day ago