bread

We are forecast to get the equivalent of 3 feet of snow today and tomorrow… luckily (for today so far) it is in the form of rain. Most of the snow is gone, the laneway is a skating rink, and the creek is flooded. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

It was a good day to hibernate, although I did send Carm out this morning for yeast. I’d been reading some old blog posts and one talked about Moroccan bread - I haven’t made it for years and today seemed like the perfect day for the aroma of yeasty dough rising followed by the divine smell of baking bread. Oh yum. Bring on the rain!

I had set aside two blobs of dough to cook on the stove for a little snack. Stretched out thin and quickly browned on each side, these little disks were the perfect platter for a slathering of butter and honey making a heavenly treat.

So what to have for supper? I wasn’t in the mood for the Moroccan stew that I’ve made before, but a lemon and olive chicken recipe in my Moroccan cookbook caught my eye. I wasn’t into following the recipe exactly, but used the flavours as a jumping off point for my own version. Was it good? Well, I gave it a 4 out of 5, Carm only a 3 ½ (such a low score as he’d rated yesterday’s Thai peanut curry a 4 and preferred it to my invention.) 

While the sweet potato roasted in the actifry, I sauteed some chicken, garlic, ginger, and onion for a moment. Then added mushrooms, diced lemon (yes the whole thing skin and all), red pepper, ¼ tsp ground coriander, ¼ tsp turmeric. After a minute or two I poured in some chicken broth, put in the trivet with the bowl of rice on it. Poured broth into the rice, put the lid on and set it for 6 minutes. Ta Da! Done. Served with a sprinkle of black olives and a shredded carrot salad with orange blossom water.

Earlier when I picked up my ancient cookbook (signed and dated 1987), a folded paper fell out. On it was written, in Cynthia’s handwriting, a rough plan for a feast of lamb on a spit and all sorts of Moroccan sides. There was the first pass at a guest list, and in large writing that there’d be no cutlery - everyone was going to have to eat Moroccan style: with our hands! We made a note that we’d have to tell people to dress appropriately. We thought about foregoing the table and would instead sit on the floor. I can’t remember much of that meal, other than the fact that it was fantastic, and that the lamb looked exactly like Pan, our greyhound, as it turned on the spit.

I looked for the photos but couldn’t find them :-(

I spent a little time this afternoon playing with a new app. Lightroom lets me change settings like ISO etc. I need to experiment a bit more...

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche