Tag Archive | sourdough cinnamon buns

Right Tools for the Job

Nov9

It’s only taken a year and a half, and finally these two can stand at the door at the same time in the morning waiting to be let out.

And it only took me three more birdstrikes today to finally hang my last-resort bird deterrent over the east window. I thought I had solved it with the plant stand blocking the center of the window, and the prayer flags across the top. But this morning two birds hit almost simultaneously, a male and a female junco. He flew off, but she fell. I’m grateful she wasn’t killed, but she was knocked out. I picked her up and put her in a small box for about ten minutes, then opened the box to the sun. About twenty minutes after that, she had left the box and was warming herself perched on a rock on the patio table, a tiny spot of blood at the base of her beak. A few minutes later she had flown away.

Okay, I thought, it’s time to pull out those icicle lights and obscure my view, but if it will save even one more bird it’s worth it. But I didn’t do it right then, I got sidetracked. A few hours later, as the temperature dropped, another junco smacked into the window. I jumped up, grabbed the lights, hammer, some nails, and the stepladder, and set to it. I was grateful to have the right tools for the job, especially the lights, which I bought last winter but couldn’t find the right place to hang–because I didn’t want to obscure my view, and after long consideration I had realized there was really no other appropriate space.

So I strung them outside, in hopes that they’ll be sufficient indication of a no-fly zone. Based on advice from friends and research, these meet four out of five criteria, and I’m optimistic. This has been an anomalous past month for bird strikes, and I still think there’s something strange going on with the juncos.

Meanwhile, in the standard gratitude categories, Wren and food, I made spice sticky buns tonight for special guests coming for coffee tomorrow morning, and others for tea on Saturday afternoon. The new cinnamon still hasn’t arrived, so I used old cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves again, and added Craisins. I’m really optimistic about this batch, even though I forgot to add an egg to the dough. They’ve been rising nicely in the pan this evening, and I’m leaving it overnight in the cold mudroom, anticipating they’ll be perfect in time to bake in the morning. I’m grateful for the right tools for this job, too: a silicone rolling mat, an old-style wooden rolling pin, and a reliable 9×13 pyrex baking dish.

Spiderwebs

Sep2

I’m grateful for spiderwebs, their fragile beauty which belies their tensile strength. I’m grateful for spiders, of which I haven’t seen enough this summer. I was delighted to spot this web backlit by early sun when I sat on the bench at the canyon rim this morning. Little Wren was dancing around in the woods as I enjoyed the view when this little web in the mountain mahogany caught my eye. The leaves are starting to turn in the shrubs on the edge and in the cottonwoods below. Autumn is coming.

I processed another batch of ripe tomatoes today, a mix of Pizzutello (the orange ones), Roma, Amish Paste, and Jamato: Sliced into halves (though a couple of large Jamatos I quartered), lightly squeezed of seeds, and tossed in olive oil with rosemary sprigs and some J&M ground Italian spice garlic, then roasted at 400℉ for about 35 minutes, til most of the liquid had evaporated and some tips were just beginning to char. I tasted one–it was delicious–but scooped the rest into two freezer bags to call on later.

This afternoon I made a batch of sourdough cinnamon rolls. The dough is so delightful to work with. As I work with various types of bread dough more and more, I’m really beginning to understand how people truly fall in love with it. And I’m learning how to work it less and let it transform itself more, to make a softer dough that rises better. This dough started out a sticky mess, but after it sat in a bowl for a few hours, with me just stretching and turning it a few times in the bowl, it turned into this pillowy, smooth ball. I gave it a few pats and enough quick rolls with the pin to make a 14″x20″ rectangle, slathered on brown sugar-butter-cinnamon sand, and rolled it up. Another rise in the pan, then a short bake at 413℉. I’m grateful I finally looked up temperature adjustments for bread baking at high altitude: it’s 1℉ for every 500′ above sea level. This time, the rolls baked perfectly. I look forward to sharing them tomorrow with a friend in need.

A Room with a View

Dec16

As we wend our way toward winter solstice and the end of this daily gratitude blog, I begin to consider the many things I haven’t yet mentioned. So many! I’m grateful for a room with a view. When I wake each morning, grateful to be alive, this is the view that greets me. Today, I’m grateful it contains snow, and sunshine, juniper trees and mountains, distant neighbors and lots of space. I’m grateful for the familiarity and beauty of the view, and for the simplicity and comfort of the home from which I see the view. I’m grateful for the sense of stability and security these things impart to my little life, and for intermittent awareness that these seemingly solid elements are fleeting; in the grand scheme of things, as transient as this body I inhabit. I’m grateful for all the causes and conditions in my own life, and the lives of my ancestors, that led to my waking up day after day in this room, with this view.

Speaking of ancestors, I’m grateful for my dear sweet mother, gone these seventeen years; for how she loved and supported me, and how she remains in my life. Instead of guesstimating to slice the cinnamon rolls tonight, I dug into the desk drawer for a ruler, and pulled out this one, which I’m guessing is roughly eighty years old from her name inscribed on it. I haven’t seen this ruler for years, and its sudden appearance as a baking tool startled me into considering her as a schoolgirl, and then marveling that she kept this simple implement all her life, and that I kept it after she died. I’m grateful for the simple things in life and the grand.

I’m grateful that if I wake up alive again tomorrow, I’ll have fresh perfect cinnamon buns for breakfast.

Sourdough

Sep16
An unprepossessing substance, but so rich in meaning and purpose. Like a lot of things.

Not only sourdough, but so many other things I’m grateful for today. However, sourdough was a good way to wrap up yesterday and begin today.

I started these sourdough cinnamon buns yesterday afternoon, making the dough from starter that Ruth gave me many years ago. I’m grateful for the gift of this ‘mother’ that has kept on giving for these many years, just as the friendship has. I’m grateful for friends who can go a year without speaking and pick up right where we left off. I’m grateful for this fermenting dough starter that Ruth shared with me, and I’ve kept alive in my refrigerator for… how many years? And grateful that I’ve been able to share it with other kitchens in the valley.

The dough was super sticky, and I added a lot of flour on the board as I pressed it out to the right size rectangle…

I let them rise overnight in the mudroom, which cooled down to around 60 degrees F. Then I brought them into the house and put them in the sun to warm up for a couple of hours before baking. They came out so light and fluffy, and doubled in size before I put them in the oven.

While they were rising, Stellar and I walked to the canyon rim. He was having a good morning. The cottonwoods nourished by the seep are starting to turn yellow, though it’s hard to see in this picture. Soon enough! I’m grateful that the Best Boy Ever has made it to another autumn!

The sourdough cinnamon buns came out perfectly! And then frosted, with coffee… a morning to be grateful for being alive.

I’m grateful for the work, the reading, and the correspondence that filled my day between breakfast and homesteading in the afternoon. I’m grateful even in receipt of unfortunate news from a dear friend, because he chose to deliver it to me himself, in a heart-touching phone call, rather than let it catch me by surprise on social media. I’m grateful for our adventures together through the years, our lasting connection, our special photographic bond; grateful that our friendship transcends the mundane challenges of space and time.

I’m grateful to have harvested the last large cucumbers, and put them in pickling brine this afternoon. The secret ingredient is a horseradish leaf in each jar. There were a couple of leaves leftover, and a couple of cucumbers just a day too old to pickle. Something different for them, tomorrow…

And then it was time to can a round of tomato sauce. Using a mix of Amish Paste and Pizzutello fruits, I roasted them just enough to loosen the skins so I could pinch them off, then mashed the tomatoes into sauce in the Dutch oven, with dried herbs and garlic granules.

Finally, at ten p.m., I hung up my apron and sat down to rest, listening to those gratifying pops, one lid… two… three, four… five… … … and finally six. Six sealed jars of garden fresh tomato sauce put up. The tip of the iceberg, with so much more to ripen in the next several weeks. I’m grateful, as always, for the rare and precious opportunity to experience joyful adventures in food: garden to table, fridge to oven, stovetop to pantry.