Bread, the stuff of life

My new year's resolution: Make and eat lots of bread! Of course, this is hardly a stretch as I have been doing this pretty much all my life. I literally teethed on a frozen bagel and my dad has been a semi-pro baker for as long as I can remember... The Kodish cheesecake is legendary (if you haven't tried it, I'm truly sorry for you). Also, carbs are a staple of traditional Jewish cooking... carbs wrapped in carbs inside of other carbs served on top of yet other carbs, in fact. So, I think bread is just in my genes.. I like to imagine my insides are made of dough, not blood and guts.

San Francisco is famous for sour dough, of course, and I have been known to make a meal of an entire loaf of the stuff, seen above with clam chowder in it and being made at the famous Boudin Bakery. It is deeeelicious. However, ever since I have been here, and living with people other than myself, I have rediscovered my own fondness for baking. Having an appreciative audience is really all the difference for me. I can never seem to get motivated to do much cooking or baking for only old lonesome, lazy me. That's just the way it is, I guess. But now I'm sharing space with two other stomachs and about all I can afford to contribute is baked goods. So, one day I took out a box from my car and found a great baking book that my dad had given me. Inspiration struck!

I started with an experimental almond apple pie.. not bad, shoulda been sweeter. Next I moved on to a braided Challah loaf (hey gentiles, challah=egg bread). I must say, it came out amazing! Texture, flavor, and crust were spot on. We devoured that pretty quickly and at this point I became very cocky. I was a great baker! My people loved me! Then I tried a raisin bread.. meh. Danie said it was good, but I had high standards now and I was disappointed. Nothing a little more cinnamon won't fix next time, though, I think.

Then I picked up some supplies at Whole Foods for my next project, a rye bread. It looks great, I'll give it that, and it even tasted great, but... I think it was just a little underdone.. d'oh! This one really pissed me off because it was soooo close to being awesome. After this I needed to take a break from bread, step back and reevaluate some of my techniques. In the meantime, I made some pecan chocolate chunk cookies.. good, but just a little overdone this time. Shit! Strangely, though, they got better the second day. In fact they were really soft and chewy and excellent the second day.. turns out Danie had put a piece of regular sandwich bread in the cookie tin overnight and somehow, miraculously, that cured what ailed them. I had never heard of that old wives trick.. it's a goodun!

With that small victory under my belt I returned to bread making with a pumpernickel... a pumpernickel that just would not rise.. craptastic! I blame the yeast. Rapid-rise yeast sucks, just so you know. The dough just lay there, unmoving and sad, and I was sad, too... But I picked myself up by my apron strings and refused to let the dough beat me! Eventually, after a whole day on the floor in the sun, me keeping a keen eye on it (by keen, I mean obsessed), it rose enough (sorta, kinda) to warrant a baking. It came out OK I guess.. too small and the flavor (from unsulphered molasses) was a little weird to me, but it made decent toast anyway. After this debacle I needed a morale boosting guaranteed victory, so I made another Challah and some Challah rolls. Again, these came out beautiful and the loaf made it all the way to North Dakota. I think that may be the farthest and oddest trip any challah bread has ever made. 

Most recently I've made pretzels, potato buns, and knishes.. and I'm happy to say I was pleased with all of them. The potato buns and knishes, in particular, came out just how I wanted them to. Jesse and I made totally from scratch pulled pork sandwiches on the potato buns and the knishes made a great Christmas dinner side dish. I used my great bubbe's (grandma's) recipe for the knishes, which was pretty cool to think about. I think she would have been proud. By the way, one of Great Bubbe's favorite Yiddish expressions was one of the all-time great bread-related put downs: "lig in drerd and bock bygel". This means to "lie down in hell and bake bagels". As in, "You don't like it, you can go to hell and bake bagels!" How awesome is that expression, huh? Even the Jewish version of "fuck off" involves bread!

The point of this post was not really to show off my own amateur baking skills, though. It was really just to extol the virtues of bread, glorious, glorious bread! My single favorite thing to eat! I'm a little hard to please when it comes to my own baking (I demand perfection!)... But really, I love it all! I haven't met a bread I wouldn't eat everyday and twice on.. everyday, really. In all shapes, sizes, and flavors. As the foundation of a sandwich, as toast, in bagel form, with butter, just totally plain, whatever.. if it's made of flour and water, I love it and want to eat it. Bread sustains us! A world without carbs is no world at all... Amen.

Also this, I still love me some gambling:

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.
Registration code: 126547         

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!

As of today it is officially Christmas week. For me, this also means it is officially the week of my birthday. That's right, two very important, dead sexy Jews have birthdays this week. Me and Jesus. I'm one day older than him, which totally burns him up by the way. Whenever we are arguing about something and we come to an impasse I can always pull out the "Well, I'm older and wiser than you" card. God, that just kills him.

Anyway, when I am not busy holding it over Jesus, I usually just try to get through the holidays and my birthday without causing or participating in too many scenes. I don't mind my birthday generally, but being the center of attention is just about the opposite of what comes naturally and comfortably to me. It's nice to know people care about me and all, but I don't need any special attention, really. As for Christmas, I got nothing against the Goys and their traditions; the spirit of giving and family togetherness can be truly magical. But does the mall have to be so fucking crowded? I mean really. Still, however awful the holiday music and all the shopping is, I mostly like the Christmas idyll of families and friends getting together and doing nice things for each other. That sounds like a grand idea to me. Like I said, I don't begrudge them their holiday... It's theirs, they can have it.

I like Chanukah just fine. Obviously I am not very (read: at all) religious, but the way Chanukah (or however the hell you spell it) manifests itself in the secular world is, just like Christmas, simply an excuse to be with and/or express your love for your loved ones. Plus, we got latkes! Jewish hash browns! They are sooo good, and I don't know why they are a once a year thing.. in fact, I am hereby proposing a year long latke party in 2010. Let's all do it! Latkes all year baby, break out the sour cream and apple sauce! Or, if you're a Goy, go ahead and put ketchup or salsa on that potato pancake, I won't mind, this is not a private party. Everyone's invited: young, old, black, white, straight, gay, Jew, non-Jew, anybody who loves fried potato!

This year, on the third night of Chanukah (in case you missed it above, please do click here for a cool holiday song that made me laugh a lot) I found myself in San Francisco's Union Square in the middle of one of those scenes I am not normally fond of. It was crowded with shoppers, tourists, passersby, hobos, and... Jews, lots of genuine, out in the wild Jews. You see, I had gone here to witness a menorah lighting ceremony. It took some convincing by my mom, and Danie, to get me out of the house, but this free event promised Jewish music, a giant, old menorah, open flames, and "local dignitaries"... Ultimately, how could I refuse?

The first thing I noticed was the first thing I am sure most of the tourists noticed as they happened upon this scene. A seemingly crazy bearded dude in a black hat and suit dancing solo to the blaring Hebrew techno music. Of course, I knew this fellow was a rabbi and his dancing, while ridiculous and quite funny, was enthusiastic and pretty charming. The crowd was enchanted by him, for sure. And then I noticed there was someone, or something, else out there with him. What's better than a rabbi dancing with himself? A rabbi dancing with a Wild Thing!! Yes! One of the Wild Things from Where The Wild Things Are was out there dancing right along side him, hands in the air, hips swinging, feet stomping. Apparently, Wild Things are Jewish. Later, I met the Wild Thing up close.. his name is Louis, he had a hard time navigating the wet stairs on his way out, and his handler in the green hat gave me a couple of two for one tickets to the Contemporary Jewish Museum. Ahh, so, it all made sense now... The Jewish Museum currently has a Maurice Sendak (author of Wild Things) exhibit and this was free publicity. Whatever the reason, I consider it a Chanukah miracle that there turned out to be something worth seeing at this event. No local dignitaries ever did materialize, but, as darkness fell, the rabbi stopped dancing and brought out the torch. I was concerned for his beard, but he managed to not catch himself on fire as he climbed the stairs to the top of the menorah and did his prayers and whatever else they have to do before lighting the candles. And that was it, the festivities were over. I was out already, though, and it was a nice night, so I took a little walk through the crowds of Union Square until I found some half price, $3 gloves at H&M. That satisfied my itch to shop and I decided that was more than enough dealing with the crowds for one day and I booked it home.

And that was the story of my big holiday outing this year. Merry Christmas/Happy Chanukah/Happy New Year to all! May all our new years be filled with peace and love! Forgive me, I've been in San Francisco almost three months and the hippie is seeping in! Also, a very happy Festivus to all my Festian, or is it Festivish (??), friends! Dan and Kash, I hope you dominated your Feats of Strength.

I think 2010 is gonna be good. We got the latke party going for us.. and other good stuff is bound to come up, right? I'm sure it will. So, for now I say, "Let the wild rumpus begin!"

There is no Santa Claus

So, last night was the big Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting. Naturally, I was not there as I have no interest in being caught in a shit storm of tourists. However, since I work two blocks away, I have been able to see them getting the tree set-up and prepared for the big day. I saw things I did not want to see. Things that have caused me to reevaluate the entire world. Yes, the entire world.

First, I saw that the tree is really not as big as it looks on TV. I am sure it looks nice with the lights, and it's no small tree.. just saying, it could be bigger. I was underwhelmed. Second, and most distressing, I saw them adding branches to the tree. Literally teamsters hoisting up outside branches and tying them to the real ones with rope to make it look fuller. Well, in my mind, they might as well put up a sign right in front saying, "Oh, and kids, by the way, there is no Santa Claus... Merry freakin' Christmas".

Now, I am no great lover of Christmas (being Jewish I am contractually obligated to say, Chanukah rules) or of lying to kids, but The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is a cultural institution and I was surprised how pissed off I was to have my illusions shattered. If this tree is fake, what else could be? Is the Empire State Building really that tall? The Brooklyn Bridge really that old? The Bronx really that dangerous?

In the end I am not sure if I would have rather not seen what I saw, or if I am glad the wool has been removed from my eyes. For, I have seen the tree in the full bright light of day and I am forever changed. The tree has been exposed as a symbol of the delusions, self-perpetuated and/or inflicted, that we all carry with us.. especially during the holiday season. In short, there is no Santa Claus... not now, never was. Jesus, I must have woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!

On a side note, I left the bag of stuff that I usually carry with me on the daily commute at work last night and therefore did not have it with me on the trains this morning. I found myself much happier without it! Free and unencumbered. I'll just have to carry my ipod in my pocket from now on. So, no more man purse for me! I am liberated, hear me roar.