THE bread

I've teased you long enough. Now it is time to share the recipe for the worlds best, easiest, most addictive bread.
That's an olive and garlic loaf, but with the basic recipe, you can make any number of variations.

I must mention here that this recipe is not my invention. Nor is it the invention, I'm sure, of the people who wrote this book:
The loaves really do look like that. It's just stupid how pretty they are.

Now for the shock and amaze part: no kneading. no rising. no punching, no fussing. You mix up 4 ingredients - water, yeast, salt and flour - set it aside for 2 hours, refrigerate and use the dough for up to 2 weeks.

That is it - promise. But I'll take you through the steps just to prove it.

Gather your materials:You'll need:

3 cups warm water
6 cups flour
1 1/2 tablespoons yeast
1 1/2 tablespoons salt

You will need a large bowl with a non-airtight lid. Keep in mind that it will live in your fridge, so if you use it every day, reconsider your choice and find a different one.

Also, I bake the loaves on a pizza stone and I think this works great. If you don't have one, improvise.

You'll also need a metal broiler pan or ovensafe skillet into which you'll pour 1 cup of water at baking time to steam the loaf as it cooks. DO NOT USE GLASS. I learned the hard way and shattered the pyrex baking dish all over my first beautiful loaf.

1. Get water. (90-105 degrees, but no hotter or you'll kill the yeast. Better to be too cool than too hot.)
As for the flour, I recommend starting out with basic white flour before trying out heavier and whole grain flours. I use organic unbleached. It's cheap and yummy, and makes for delicious and light loaves.

For the salt, I use a coarse Kosher salt, but I think most will do.

2. Dissolve the yeast, then the salt in the warm water.
3. Add 6 cups flour. I know this sounds silly, but measure very carefully. The exact ratio of water to flour makes a big difference, I'm finding. So don't pack the flour down and level it off with the back of a knife. If you already know this and I'm insulting your intelligence, forgive me.
4. Mix it up until there are no more dry spots. You will not get out all the lumps, so don't try.

5. Cover with the (non-airtight) lid, and set it aside for 2 hour (or more, but not less).The mess will triple in size over the next few hours, and the bowl will become warm to the touch. Fermentation at work. Right up there with purple beans turning green. 6. After 2 hours (or so), put in refrigerator. At this point, you can use it right away or wait up to 2 weeks, though it's much easier to handle when it's cold.

7. When you're ready to bake it, dust the surface of the dough with a little flour and cut off a hunk about the size of a grapefruit/softball. Be sure to dust your hands with some flour, or you're in for a very sticky mess.

Don't knead it.

In fact, you want to handle it very little if you can help it. Just form it into a ball by stretching it over itself from the inside out and turn in 1/4 turns until you've achieved a relatively symmetrical ball. Once you have that shape, you can elongate it into more of a loaf shape, or even roll it into a baguette shape. What you're creating is a "gluten cloak" around the outside of the loaf. It will appear rather taut and shiny if you do it right. And it will be sticky, but resist the urge to over-flour the surface.

8. Set aside to "rest" for 40 minutes.(Here you can see I sprinkled the surface with coarse corn meal. I don't usually do this, but it can be nice.)

9. Twenty minutes before baking time, preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Have the pizza stone on the middle rack, and on the rack below, the broiler pan (empty and NOT GLASS). You can switch these around (pan on top, stone on bottom) but I've had better luck with this arrangement.

10. Right before you pop that baby in the oven, put some slices in the surface with a sharp serrated knife. It cuts best if you dip it in flour first.
11. Slide the loaf on the hot stone (you may need an assist from a spatula)12. CAREFULLY pour 1 cup of hot water in the (NOT GLASS) broiler pan

13. Bake for about 20-25 minutes, or until the top is nice and golden brown. Don't worry - you won't dry it out because this dough is very wet to start with.
14. Once you remove it from the oven, you're "supposed" to let it cool completely. BS. I eat it as soon as possible, and I recommend you do, too, but keep in mind you may destroy the loaf because it's much more delicate when hot. Also, it's freaking hot, so don't burn yourself.And that's it! Enjoy. And please write to tell me what you think!

Union Square farmers market

Happy days.
Erik asked me yesterday if the Union Square farmers market (in Somerville, MA) is my favorite. I reflexively answered, 'no, they're all my favorite.' But this is not true. I love this one for no particular reason except that I love the vibe, the people, the vendors and the nearby coffee shop (Bloc 11 cafe).

That, and they don't seem to mind when I dig through their compost bins and score 25 pounds of squished peaches (as I did yesterday).Next year, I'm growing cherry tomatoes because these taste like candy:But the coolest find yesterday was this bizarre flower that looks like pretty brains.
It's called celosia.

And this is hilarious:

It is traditional fare in countries of Central and West Africa, and is one of the leading leafy green vegetables in Nigeria, where it is known as ‘soko yokoto’, meaning ‘make husbands fat and happy.’

(It's true. I found it on the internet.)

The wildflower maven, Ellie, at the Drumlin Farm booth, will explain just about anything to you regarding flowers or produce.
But the real reason I went to the farmers market was to buy as many tomatoes as I could for as little money as possible. I succeeded, thanks to Steve from Parker Farm in Lunenberg, MA. I gave him a $10 bill, and he gave me an empty wooden crate with the invitation to take as many as I wanted.
Today, I regret this feat, if only a little.

30 pounds of tomatoes, 6 pounds of onions, 1.5 pounds of garlic and 24 hours later, I've made 8 quarts of tomato sauce.

Was it worth it? Don't know, really, but I think so. Recipe post to follow.

(that) Party's over!

Good-bye, Minneapolis. Good-bye, Palin, McCain, Giuliani. See you in no sooner than 4 years. (fingers crossed).(In way of explanation, they made confetti out of their nominee's head. Uh huh.)

Got on airplane; got off airplane. Slept for 16 hours.

At home, I found these:
-- and a bewildered nest of tomato plants. They've grown so fast as to outstrip their girth and support. When I checked on them, they were all doubled over, hanging their (tomato) heads looking very depressed. Their malaise, coupled with a forecasted tropical storm, prompted me to whip out the twine and bamboo sticks. Malaise, no more! Now they're trapeze artists.
Oh, this is exciting: remember the overgrown cilantro plants that were too pretty to kill? This is what they looked like several weeks ago:
Now the have seeds!
Cilantro, as I sort of knew, is three herbs in one: the leaves used fresh, the roots (when dug before the plant has gone to seed), and then the mature seeds (coriander). I say sort of because it's all just book learnin' until I could prove it in dirt.

I didn't know when to harvest the seeds, so .34 seconds of research online told me this:

Harvest the seeds when they turn a light brown and the entire plant is dried, usually 2-3 weeks after flowering. Cut the stems before much shattering has occurred, and hang the plants in a a warm, airy place to dry. Because many of the seeds will fall out, place the cut stems over a cloth to catch any that fall, or put the stalks inside a paper bag. Make sure the fruit is thoroughly dried, which develops the flavor of the seeds. To save seed for your next crop, just store the whole pods in a cool, dry location. For culinary use, rub the pods to release the seed from the seed coat. The dried seeds can be stored for months in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.

The pole beans are happy, and have jumped to the top of my list of favorite plants to grow.

The squash are all simultaneously dying and reproducing. I don't get it.
The cantaloupe are galloping along, which makes me sing with delight. If I manage to grow a cantaloupe, a block party will be thrown, mark my words.
And the yippee-radishes are growing up. Half of them were wiped out by a varmint (again, great word), but these are the hardy survivors.
And the peppers are still popping.That's the garden update, but I have more news . . . stay tuned.

Political Aspira-gus

(on airplane back from Minneapolis)

Something is wrong with my brain. Two weeks of force-fed political dogma and I’m bleeding a bit at the ears, but I just can’t stop. Can’t stop thinking about it, seeking out the latest news, reading commentary – classic trainwreck syndrome. Again and again, I keep wondering, ‘what would I do in elected office?’

And then I think, ‘hmmmn.’

I get an F- in small talk. Definitely don’t suffer fools with charmed patience. I cringe at the thought of shaking an endless sea of sweaty palms. Smiling for too long gives me a migraine. Babies all cry when I touch them, and I’m no Obama when it comes to speechifying. In short, I would be a terrible politician.

But that’s not true. I’ve thought about it. My motives are true, and though my ideas are strong, but I’m not so hubristic as to think they’re all correct. There’s a lot of geography between bleeding-heart liberal and soulless conservative, and I’m all over that map.

With a few exceptions, that is. The environment. Energy policy. Healthcare. Not so flexible on those. So it looks like I could be president of a city block in the middle of Berkeley, California, if I’m lucky.

Back to my apolitical drawing board (which looks a lot like my garden).

I've got the red white and blues.

Enough of the political conventions, already.

Enthusiasm for life on the road is seriously flagging at this point. My husband has issued a formal protest, and what's perhaps worse, I've missed the harvest of our most spectacular tomato.

It's time to go home already, but not before I do this freaky show all over again tonight. Maybe it's worse because the tone of this convention is, well, different to say the least.

It's time to trade this:
for this.

T minus 36 hours.

Million shades of green

I’m on the plane to Minneapolis via Atlanta, which confuses my understanding of American geography, but at least it gives me more time to write.

After a whirlwind return to Massachusetts, I’m returning to a week or more on the road venturing to the infinite places that aren’t my home. It’s an exciting time right now. Politics looms large in the collective consciousness, as does hurricane Gutav, which is barreling toward the Gulf coast as I now write. The Republicans have just pretty well called off the RNC, and my editors are making scrambled eggs out of their brains trying to figure out how to send the right photographers to the right places. So down in the cargo hutch of this airplane is a red suitcase packed with nice black slacks, pressed shirts and mascara. Next to it is a sister suitcase containing, among other things, walkie-talkies, industrial-strength D rings, a water filter and Cipro.

I know where this plane will land, but I don’t know where I’m going, when or how.

As I said, it’s an exciting time right now, especially for a journalist.

The mood is very different in my garden. I returned home last Friday evening to discover, not the riot of ripeness or pestilence I feared, but the result of a steady week of peaceful churn. There were babies everywhere, all asleep. Erik spotted our first cantaloupe, the first of an otherwise unproductive crop of plants.

The pepper plants decided to try it all over again after a rough patch with the snails.
And my stubborn, brave squash just won’t give up, and have pushed out ever more tiny squashlets, powdery mildew be damned. I just shake my head and wish them luck.
From now on, I plan to plant radishes every chance I get. Multiple plantings each season. Wherever I can. I’m not even sure if I like radishes, but the sheer joy the seedlings exhibit upon germination is worth the effort and space. I bent down to check on their progress and to evaluate how many went the way of the skunk salad bar and was met with a tiny, green, full-throated “Yippeeeee!!!”

They are so lovely, and so excited to be alive. I love radishes. I don’t care if they’re awful. I just love them for this un-ironical reminder of the joy of living.

Oh, God. Bad pun alert: Lettuce all be like radishes.

Sorry…sorry.

One of our squashes fell victim to some furry animal with sharp teeth. It’s now in the shed, where I hope it will cure without rotting.
We harvested a bunch more pole beans and I made the tuna salad with them again. I think that’s going to be a staple around our house. It’s easy, healthy, cheap and delicious.
And in the 48 hours I was home, I made four loaves of bread. That sounds ambitious, but it is so incredibly easy and so sinfully scrumptious when hot out of the oven that to only make four loaves was restraint.

We ate two of those loaves with caprese salads, made divine by just-picked Brandywine tomatoes and expensive-but-worth-it buffalo mozzarella. I am in love with summertime garden eats.

The compost needed a turn, and in the process of turning it, we managed to explode the composter in half. That was fun.

Lesson learned: if using an “Earth Machine” brand composter, glue the damn thing together before filling it up with stinky stuff.

Mostly, I just puttered about outside, barefoot, dirty, and probably not wearing enough sunscreen. I admired the ginormous spider, sniffed the jasmine that’s just starting to flower along our fence, and tried to absorb as best I could the very different priorities of dirt, sun and plants.

Our left brains are tyrants. They narrate constantly, and not just the negative events of our lives. They ruin the restful and beautiful moments as well, like red-faced sports announcers, and they just never shut up. Well, almost never.

My left brain retires after a glass of red wine.

Sometimes, it shuts up for a blessed minute toward the end of a great yoga class.

But I think the reason I’ve fallen so completely in love with gardening, has to do with that insistent narrative. It’s not that gardening turns off the voice, but it tames it, and the telegrams streaming through my consciousness begin to describe what is actually happening in front of me.

That – flower – is – gorgeous. The – tomatoes – smell – great. I – feel- sorry – for – the – squash. How – amazing – is – germination. I – am – incredibly – lucky.

It’s a different time zone. A different sort of planning. No deadlines, more just a continuum. And no black and white.

Rather, I just see a million shades of lovely green.