When I was cleaning off my hard drive last night I found the photos from a little recipe I have been remiss to share with you — oatmeal sandwich bread.  As I said to a coworker yesterday, I feel like I could sleep for a week.  Daylight saving time, coupled with a trip to visit friends Arkansas has left me a little weary.  Plus, today is my darling boyfriend Ryan’s 32nd birthday and my thoughts and free time have been dedicated to baking cakes (eee!  cannot wait to share this year’s cake with you) and strolling the aisles of Target looking for coordinated wrapping and tissue paper (because a well-planned gift wrap scheme is what makes my heart pitter-patter).

Oh!  But the bread.  The warm, soft and anything-but-bland whole grain bread.  Made from a mix of rolled oats, all purpose and whole wheat flours this bread is something anyone could make with ingredients I am guessing are probably already on the shelves of your pantry.  Flours beyond the traditional all purpose variety have caught my attention as of late both because of their versatility and, well, they taste better.  Don’t get me wrong, all purpose has a permanent place in my kitchen but sometimes it is nice to introduce a new personality to the dinner party (or bread baking party, as it were).

I have baked from Kim Boyce’s Good to the Grain before (and have flagged about 95 percent of the other recipes to try) and am always struck by the intense flavor of grains other than wheat.  Although I am probably not going to go as far as purchasing a sack of kamut flour anytime soon, using the same rolled oats in homemade bread that I microwave for my morning oatmeal seemed like a no brainer.  The amount of yeast called for in this recipe seems to produce a much puffier loaf than shown on the pages of the cookbook but after testing this recipe several times and searching around on other sites I found that everyone else had also experienced an exaggerated mushroom topped bread.  Pulling the mounded bread out of the oven was a bit shocking, however once the bread was cooled and sliced I was on board with the large surface area — more room to spread butter or layer sandwich fixings.  Wrapped loosely in a plastic bag, this oatmeal sandwich bread has lasted for a week at room temperature.  Each morning before another full day I carefully cut a single slice, toast it and spoon on my favorite marmalade.  Then I slowly enjoy each bite while I sip my coffee.  I may desperately need to visit the grocery store, but having homemade toast for breakfast every morning over the last few days has been a tremendous comfort.

oatmeal sandwich bread
adapted from Good to the Grain: Baking with Whole-Grain Flours
yields one 9- by 5- by 3-inch loaf

butter for the bowl and pan
1 package (2-1/4oz) active dry yeast
3T unsulphured molasses
2-1/2c whole wheat flour
2c bread flour
1c rolled oats
2oz (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1T kosher salt

Lightly butter a large mixing bowl and a loaf pan about 9- by 5- by 3-inches.

In the bowl of an electric mixer add 2 cups of warm water, yeast and molasses. Stir together with your fingers to allow the yeast to begin to dissolve. Let the mixture sit and rest for 5 minutes.

Add the flours, oats, and butter into the standing mixer bowl with the yeast mixture. Stir together with a wooden spoon (the dough will not completely come together, it will look scraggly). Cover with a kitchen towel and let stand for 30 minutes.

Using the hook attachment mix on medium speed for 6 minutes. Add the salt before mixing. The dough may make a bit of a racket as it slaps around the bowl, but it should do so without sticking. If it starts to stick, add a tablespoon or two of the bread flour until the dough comes away from the bowl. The dough should be slightly tacky, but soft.

Lightly flour a large work surface and remove the dough from the bowl onto the counter. Use a rubber spatula to get all of the dough removed from the bowl. Knead the dough a few times and place into the buttered bowl. Cover with a towel and let rise for one hour or until it has doubled in size.

Remove the dough from the bowl and place onto the floured work surface. Using your fingertips, press the dough and work it into a square shape while simultaneously pressing out the bubbles. Fold the square like a business letter, in a trifold. With the seam side down, gently push the sides toward the center to puff up the dough and make the oblong dough fit the length of the loaf pan. Place the dough in the pan, seam side down and gently press it into the corners of the pan.

Cover the dough in the loaf pan with a towel and let rise for another hour. If your kitchen is drafty, put in a warm place. The dough is finished rising when it has approximately doubled in size and puffs up just barely over the edge of the pan.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. When the dough has finished rising, sprinkle the top with extra oats. Bake for 40 minutes, turning around 180 degrees after 20 minutes to ensure even baking. The loaf is finished baking when the top crust is as dark as molasses and the bottom crust is dark brown. Thump the top of the loaf — if it sounds hollow it is done. Remove the loaf from the pan and let cool on a wire tack for a few hours.

This time of year, in order to starve off frozen fingers and frozen toes I drink my body weight in coffee, tea and hot chocolate.  By the time I nighttime rolls around, I am pretty sick of hot beverages and want something entirely different to warm my bones.  This may explain why I prefer hot soups in the summer, but that’s a different story.  I lust after spring vegetables all winter long, but equally important are flavors bright enough to grab my attention, pucker my lips and say, “Ooh!  What is that?”  Yet another roasted root vegetable is simply not going to cut it.

Assorted, half-filled bags of rice fill the pantry shelves — castoffs from recipes tested and swiftly forgotten.  And yet the rice bags remain, waiting to be cooked and fluffed into something edible.  Plain rice, whatever the variety, mounded next to a serving of meat and vegetables seems incredibly ho-hum. (Although, if Ryan had his way this is exactly how we would eat rice everyday.  We would also drown each grain in soy sauce but the snob in me has to draw the line somewhere.)  Despite the depressing weather and the lackluster availability of produce I am determined not to let anything ho-hum come out of my home kitchen and rice was one of the first ingredients I wanted to tackle.

I chose a recipe from the a restaurant in the United Kingdom, a far away land with far more gray days per year than I could ever put up with.  Ottolenghi’s answer to miserable weather?  Mangoes.  And basil, cilantro and mint.  This mango and coconut rice salad has texture in spades — crunch from the roasted peanuts and red bell peppers and chewiness from the red rice.  Lemon juice and zest paired with the sweet, sticky cubes of fresh mango liven up the salad’s color and acidity, while simultaneously balancing the mellowness of the rice.  This dish is best served at room temperature or straight from the refrigerator and despite the nasty cold weather outside, it will trick your taste buds into thinking it is time to unfold your beach towel and apply some tanning oil (or in my case, a thick layer of SPF 90, but to each their own).

mango and coconut rice salad
adapted from Ottolenghi
yields 4 servings

1/2c jasmine or basmati rice
1 tsp unsalted butter
salt
3/4c water
1/2c basil leaves (Thai basil, if you can find it), divided (1 large stem left whole, the rest of the leaves roughly chopped)
3/4c red rice
1 red pepper, cored and thinly sliced
1/4c mint leaves, roughly chopped
1/4c coriander leaves, roughly chopped
2 scallions, thinly sliced
1 red chili, deseeded and finely chopped
1 lemon, zested and juiced
2 large mangoes, cut into a 2cm dice
1/3c roasted salted peanuts, roughly chopped
1/4c shredded, unsweetened coconut (if you have sweetened, use half this amount)
2T peanut or vegetable oil
1 large shallot, sliced and deep-fried (optional)

Put the jasmine rice and butter in a small saucepan and place over a medium heat. Add a generous pinch of salt, the water and half the Thai basil (keep the leaves attached to the stem), and bring to a boil. Cover and cook at a slow simmer for 15-20 minutes. Remove and discard the basil, then spread the rice on a tray to cool down.

Boil the red rice in plenty of water (just like cooking pasta, but with no salt) and simmer for 20 minutes, until cooked through. Drain and spread on a tray to cool down.

Add the cooked rice to a large bowl and all of the remaining ingredients other than the lemon juice and shallots, and mix. Do not stir too much or the mango will start to fall apart. Taste for seasonings and add lemon juice if necessary. Serve at room temperature and garnish with the deep-fried shallots, if you like.

A few nights ago I had some friends over for dinner and with wine glasses in hand we gathered in the kitchen as the meal finished cooking.  One of my friends pointed to the five or so index cards affixed to the side of the refrigerator and said, “I love your recipe cards…such a good idea…wait a minute!  You can make polenta in the oven?”  Yes, yes, it is true.  Baked polenta is a shortcut I often forget the world is not fully aware of.  And what a shame — it has saved me countless hours stirring over the hot stove and in all likelihood has prevented some sort of stirring-related wrist injury (hyperbole can be fun, no?).

One of the last things I would ever want to be accused of is lazy butttttt if something that is endlessly time consuming can be revamped into something nearly one hundred percent hands off I will take it, every time.  Such is the case with polenta.  I adore the yellow Italian porridge more than most — always making a point to order it off restaurant menus and cooking it at home at least once a week.  I refrigerate any leftovers and pan fry little squares of the chilled,  firm polenta to savor its crispy exterior and creamy center.  The addition of cheese, herbs and cream can transform bland cornmeal into the perfect accompaniment to a main dish.

I sent my friend Amy home with her own little index card with the bare-bones directions scribbled with a Sharpie and proceeded to make a batch baked polenta the following evening.  We were having spicy Italian sausages and peppers for dinner that night, so stirring in a few generous crumbles of blue cheese and a few tablespoons of heavy cream into the polenta felt like the right thing to do.  Infinitely adaptable, feel free to tweak this recipe to make it your own — add Parmesan, or cheddar, or chop some rosemary and add a few extra pats of butter.  This is a side dish that is about as forgiving as it gets.

baked polenta with gorgonzola
adapted widely from Giada de Laurentiis
yields 4 generous side servings

1c polenta or medium grind cornmeal
4c water
1t salt
1T butter
2-3T heavy cream (optional)
2-3oz Gorgonzola, crumbled or other melting cheese (optional)
salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a medium, nonreactive baking dish combine the polenta, water and salt. Bake for 50 minutes. Remove the dish from the oven and stir in the butter. Bake for 10 more minutes. Remove from the oven and stir in the cream and Gorgonzola. Taste for seasonings. If the polenta seems too loose, bake for a few more minutes to dry out.

Sometimes I come across recipes that present themselves as a challenge.  They may be technically difficult (croissants, I’m looking at you!), but more often than not they ooze with potential and have been cursed by an onslaught of bad recipe reviews.  This mixed vegetable and wheat berry/farro* soup from Food and Wine Magazine fell decidedly in the latter category.

This was one of those recipes I spent far too much time worrying about if I should post. Please don’t misunderstand my indecision as a poor reflection on the soup –  it was hearty, robust and, well, humble.  But, the recipe naysayers were onto something.  Prepared verbatim, I could easily see how this soup would be “disappointing” and “bland”.  Meant to be a vegan dish, the recipe called for a handful of vegetables, some beans and wheat berries.  In an effort to ramp up the flavor I used every trick in the book: more salt, some extra fresh herbs (basil and Italian parsley), a Parmesan rind and chicken stock in lieu of water.  (Needless to say, I’m not a vegan).  In the end, I kept tinkering with the recipe and added a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes to add some complexity to this simple supper.

Not to congratulate myself too loudly, but I think I succeeded.  My measure of success?  We ate this no-longer-plain mixed vegetable and wheat berry soup for dinner two nights in a row — shockingly unusual behavior at Starting in December.  After my second bowl last night I decided it was indeed worth sharing.  Not only does this soup leave you full despite the high proportion of fresh vegetables, but it is the quintessential recipe to start experimenting with.  Having long been a stick-to-the-recipe-as-written for the first go ’round kind of home cook, I find recipe experimentation daunting.  These days I am slowly moving past those classic kitchen insecurities, probably due to the fact that the outcome typically tastes good enough to eat…and eat two nights in a row, at that!

Elsewhere:  If you are stopping by Starting in December for the first time because of all of the nice things Food 52 had to say about Starting in December yesterday, welcome! (I am still blushing.)

mixed vegetable and wheat berry soup
adapted from Food and Wine, October 2010
yields 6 servings

3T extra virgin olive oil
2 celery ribs, thinly sliced
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 medium leek, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced
1c wheat berries (or farro)
3T tomato paste
2qt chicken stock
1 15-oz can pinto or borlotti beans, drained and rinsed
1 Parmesan rind (optional)
2 large carrots, halved lengthwise and sliced crosswise, 1/4-inch thick
1-1/2c frozen peas
salt and pepper
2T thinly sliced basil or chopped parsley

In a large pot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the celery, onion and leek and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the wheat berries and tomato paste and cook until the grains are coated and shiny. This should take about 30 seconds, stirring constantly.

Add 1 quart of the stock and the beans and bring to a boil. Simmer over low heat for 30 minutes. Add the carrots and the remaining 1 quart of stock and cook for another 30 minutes over low heat. Check to see if the carrots are tender. If not, cook for an additional 5 minutes or until they are tender. When the carrots are ready, add the frozen peas and cook for 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and garnish with fresh herbs.  Remove the Parmesan rind before serving.

* From what I can gather, the difference between wheat berries and farro is a subtle one.  Both are grains of wheat in their whole and unedited form.  From there the difference between the two gets tricky. Farro is the Italian name given to a more specific kind of wheat berry, harvested from certain varieties of wheat.  What did I use?  Wheat berries.  Why?  Farro can be difficult to find in your run-of-the-mill supermarket and I wanted to test this recipe with something more readily available.  I couldn’t tell a difference in flavor or texture.