Tag Archives: bread

Garlic Gruyère Soup

If you’ve looked at any of my recipes at all, you know one thing: I love garlic.

And I love cream. So that’s two things.

We could also add mushrooms in there for number three . . . and how could I forget rice?? So if you’ve looked at any of my recipes at all, you actually know four things. *Insert clever statement of your choice referencing Monty Python’s Spanish Inquisition skit*

This garlic soup recipe came to me from on high. It came via Tasty Kitchen, Pioneer Woman’s recipe sharing site. It came with angelic choruses singing in the starlit sky. It came with blazes of glory, strings of diamonds and pearls, and ribbons in its hair.

It is g-e-w-d. That means ‘good’ in case you’re a step behind things this morning.

I’m a step behind things this morning. But that’s another story, which my next cup of coffee with Peppermint Mocha creamer should put a lovely ending to–a lovely ending such as: “and then the girl with the saggy eyes poured herself a cup of office coffee laced with Peppermint Mocha creamer and she lived happily! Ever! After! Her eyes went from saggy to bloodshot! Then she started typing at 1,000 WPM and cranking out her morning’s work! And the people rejoiced!”

It’s the power of caffeine on a grey morning, folks.

Anyway, enough falderal. We’ve got to get this thing started or I’ll just keep jibber-jabbering all morning long and we’ll never get to the part with the soup in it. Let’s boil it down to the bare facts: cream. Garlic. Wine. Garlic. Cheese. Garlic.

Ingredients

1 TBS olive oil

1 large onion, thinly sliced

16 cloves garlic, smashed

1 c dry white wine

4 c chicken stock

1 Bay leaf

2 cups French bread, torn into pieces

3/4 c heavy whipping cream

½ cups shredded Gruyère or Parmesan

First things first: slice your onion and smash your garlic.

You can see my container of pre-peeled garlic lurking there in the background. It’s one of the many delights provided by my local Asian grocery store.

Now heat the oil in a large pot and add the onion and garlic.

Cook over medium heat for 10 to 12 minutes, by the end of which they will start to get goldeny brown. It’s called caramelization and it’s the greatest culinary technique in creation.

Make sure your wine bottle is open. This funky opener was made for girls like me, who have broken corks untold with traditional bottle openers. It’s called a rabbit, and it would be a great Christmas gift for the struggling wine-opener in your family.

Add the white wine and cover the pot.

Reduce the heat to low, and cook for 10 minutes, giving it a stir every now and then.

It’s now looking something like this, and smelling like your wildest dreams come true.

Pour in the chicken stock and the bay leaf–you could easily use vegetable stock to make this dish vegetarian.

Bring it to a boil . . .

. . . then cover the pot and simmer it over low heat for 30 minutes.

I used this time to tear up my bread, grate my Parmesan, and measure out my cream.

Yes, it’s my Parmesan and my cream. Not the cream. Mine, mine, mine!! All mine!!! Though I will kindly share the cellulitis with you.

Yes, I cheated and used Parmesan even though I specifically used ‘Gruyère’ in the recipe title. But have you seen the prices on Gruyère these days? Have you seen them? And the Parmesan was on sale for $3.49 a wedge! They made me do it!

Try not to consume all the bread and parmesan before its time.

After those 30 minutes are up, turn off the stove and add the torn bread pieces . . .

. . . cover the pot and let it sit for 10 minutes. The bread will get mushy and schmushy–don’t question the process. Just believe.


Take the bay leaf out and try not to wonder why it’s glimmering like gold. Is it a leaf from Loth-Lorien?

I think Galadriel would totally dig this soup, yo.

Now put your immersion blender in and puree this baby.

You can also pour the soup into a regular blender (working in batches) and whizz it there, but make sure not to hurt or burn yourself in the process. I’ve heard stories of exploding soups and I want to make sure those do not take place in your life or kitchen.

Puree the soup until it’s nice and smooth, then stir in the cream . . .

. . . and add generous amounts of black pepper, and salt to taste. Taste it a few times. And then a few more. I know I certainly did.

Garnish each bowl with a hefty sprinkling of cheese. I added green onions for color.

Enjoy!

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Pain à l’Ancienne

Please welcome the very first guest post on my blog, written by none other than my much loved and much blogged about sister Erica. Feel free to refer to her as ‘blondie pants,’ ‘spankeroo,’ or ‘schmantypants.’ I’m so excited to have her share this recipe. It makes the best bread I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve been bugging her to write about it ever since June 8th, the day I started this blog in the first place. And though I’ve destroyed our relationship by my consummate nagging, at least I squeezed this out of her before she decided never to talk to me again.

Just kidding! She gave it over to my blog willingly–that’s how a well-trained younger sister behaves. Without further ado, I hand things over to this extremely kitchen-competent wonderwoman.

Pain à l’Ancienne means “Old style bread.” It’s also known as: Bread So Good You Will Never Go Back To The Bread Machine.

I discovered this bread while working at the IU Opera and Ballet Theatre’s costume shop as a seamstress with just about the most wonderful ladies ever. It showed up at most of our (frequent) potlucks, and we all looked forward to its appearance with much eagerness and salivation.  When I moved on to grad school and no longer had time to say my own name, much less work at the shop, I finally wheedled the recipe out of the woman who made it, to my great delight. After whipping up lots and lots of batches and making some slight modifications to the recipe, I give you The Best Bread You Can Easily Make At Home Which Will Win You Many Friends And Followers–And Possibly A Nobel Prize.

The bread is incredibly simple to make; all it requires is a tiny bit of forethought, since you will start it the day before you wish to bake it. I tried par-baking it once, then freezing it, so that I could pop it into the oven without delay whenever the need arose, but I like it fresh much, much better. To par-bake it (if you choose to follow that dark and crunchy path), simply bake it for about half the time you usually would, let it cool, wrap tightly in plastic wrap or a ziploc, and freeze it.  Then all you have to do is let it thaw for a bit before resuming the baking process whenever you are in need of really awesome bread at the drop of a hat. I found that the crust was much thicker and less delicious than when made fresh, but it’s till darn good.

So, what does it take to make this bread, you ask? Not much, sez I.

Ingredients

6 c. (i.e. 27 oz.) unbleached bread flour (MUST be bread flour- I like to use Gold Medal’s Better for Bread, but any flour specifically meant for bread will work)

1 ¾ tsp yeast (about one package, the dry active kind, not the instant or bread machine kind)

1 TBS  vital wheat gluten

2 ¼ tsp salt

2 ½ to 3 c ICE COLD water

Let’s begin!

First, measure all your dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl. I like to give ‘em a nice whisk about to blend them well before adding the water. This way we don’t end up with unfortunate salty lumps. However, the great thing about this bread is that you don’t have to be über precise. Pile it all in. Mix it around. Call it a day. Then add the water. It does need to be ice cold- I always end up putting cold tap water in a bowl with a bunch of ice cubes and measure out the quantity I need, but I suppose you can use cold water from your fridge, too.  That would be way easier. Once it’s been added, stir it with a spoon until it’s fairly uniform. The dough will be very sticky, so I tend to add a little less than the maximum 3 cup amount, and if it’s too dry, add a little more. Anyway, this is floppy, sticky dough that will get your hands all gummy. Last time I made this bread a week or two ago, I used my Kitchen Aid mixer with the paddle attachment to mix it and the dough hook to knead it. It worked really well, but I’ve been making this bread without fancy equipment for several years and it doesn’t make a difference what you use. The Kitchen Aid just makes your hands less gross.

So.  Once mixed, put a generous quantity of your bread flour on the counter top and plop the squishy dough onto it. Then, begin to knead. You’ll probably find yourself using quite a bit more flour so that 90% of it doesn’t end up on your hands, but try to keep the excess flour to a minimum. Once the dough is smooth and elastic, and still quite sticky (or after 6-8 minutes of hand-kneading), lightly grease another clean mixing bowl and put the dough into it. Cover your bowl with plastic wrap and pop it all into the fridge. Leave it there overnight. The longest I’ve left it in the fridge is about a day and a half, but if you leave it in a little longer it can only increase the goodness. I wouldn’t abandon it for more than two days, though.

When you take it out of the fridge, you’ll notice that big, beautiful bubbles have formed in the dough. Yummmmmm. Don’t do anything to it yet, just set it in a warm place and let it rise. Since the dough is cold, it will take quite a bit longer than your average rising time since it first has to warm up. But that’s ok because it’s totally worth it. Mine usually rises for a good 3 hours. Last time I turned my oven on the lowest setting, put the bowl in, plastic wrap and all, and turned the oven off after 2 or 3 minutes. This works well because the small space retains the heat nicely.

Once your dough has doubled in size and is smelling all yeasty and glorious, take it out of the oven (if that’s where you were letting it rise). Don’t punch it down!  Now, fill a cast iron or sturdy metal baking pan with water, and put it in your oven. We’ll put the bread on the lower rack, so it’s ok to put the rack with the water on it fairly high in the oven. We want the steam from the evaporating water, as this will make the crust crunchy and beautiful. Preheat to about 475 Fahrenheit, and while the oven preheats, we’ll prep the loaves.

Personally, I like generously sized wider loaves rather than baguettes with this bread.  You can do whatever you like, though. If doing baguettes, you can get about 5 shorter loaves from this recipe; otherwise, divide the dough into three lumps. It will be quite squishy and floppy, and won’t hold its shape too well. What we REALLY DON’T want is to squeeze or squash the dough too much. We want to keep those big air bubbles that have formed overnight, so be gentle with it. If you have a holey pizza pan, this is the time to use it. Otherwise a cookie sheet with some cornmeal sprinkled on it will do just fine. I bet a pizza stone would be great too, so use yours if you have one- just put the pizza stone in the oven with a light dusting of cornmeal when you put the water in, and slip the loaves onto it when the oven is ready. Otherwise, gently place the loaves onto your cornmealed pan and pop it in the oven.

A word about the baking: these loaves will rise a lot, and expand slightly sideways too. I always have to bake them in several rounds–they don’t usually fit on a single pan. As the loaves bake (judge the doneness by color), usually 20-30 minutes depending on the size of the loaf, you’ll need to use a water spritzer to spray the loaves 4-5 times throughout the baking time. You can find one in the laundry aisle of most stores, near the ironing stuff. The steam from the pan is great, but we need a little extra. Plus, it’s fun. Don’t be afraid to aim directly at the bread. A word of caution: it is very hot, so be careful as the steam might cloud up on you when you spray. The loaves will become a lovely deep golden or light brown color. Let them cool slightly if you can- a true test of your self-control- and then….devour!

That’s about it. It sounds way more complicated from my instructions than it really is, but once you try it out you’ll see not only how easy it is to make, but how incredibly delicious the bread is. I mean, the tastiness-to-difficulty ratio is totally in your favor. Oh my, just you wait! The smell is divine, and the bread has the perfect slight crunch to the crust and beautiful texture to the inside . . . mmmm . . . Plus, I find bread making to be a wonderful, peaceful thing that is utterly satisfying, especially when shared. You can’t beat the homey and intoxicating smell of homemade bread that fills you house (and your soul!).

So make it! Tomorrow! (start it tonight!!) You won’t regret it. I promise.

And I won’t even TELL you how awesome it is with little pat of butter melting on it, still hot from the oven……

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