Your hands were made for making bread

Everyone should make bread. If you haven't made bread yet, do it. It's satisfying in a way that cooking other things isn't. It feels primal, even though agriculture and then grinding grains into flour was probably one of the first hallmarks of civilization. You have to get your hands into it, it involves mysterious processes with yeast, and it magically changes from pale and raw to brown and perfect. And it's perfect as it is--all you need is a smear of Earth Balance or even hummus if you're into wanting actual nutrition with your carbs. You can make into baguette or focaccia or buns or good-old sandwich bread and enjoy it for days. If you've never made bread before it'll be a revelation, and even if it's the hundredth time it's still perfectly magical.

Ah, Paris! Veganized chèvre chaud

Paris is in fact everything they say it is. The city is just as beautiful as they say, the Eiffel Tower is just as impressive, the bike culture is just as awesome, the food is just as good, the waiters are just as surly. It's fantastic. Paris was my first vacation outside of North America, and I would go back again in a second. It's true: seeing places around the world changes your perspective on home, in ways both fantastic and slightly bubble-bursting. (Yes, bubble-bursting: see the afore-mentioned comment on bike culture. And then ponder North American bike culture.)

The highlight of many vacations is the food. And for Paris this is especially true. Yes, you pay through the nose for everything (unless you learn to shoot espresso while standing up) but everything is fantastic. I went to Paris with my mother, and also with a friend who met up with friends of hers who were in Paris at the same time. She came back from their lunch reporting her friends had said they hadn't had any good food since being in Paris. The three of us shook our heads in disbelief: we hadn't had one BAD meal since coming to Paris. Crepes, salads, gorgeous crusty baguette everywhere—these were food memories that would stay with us long after flying back home.

But after becoming vegan, I started to think all those memories of good food would remain memories, since the French load every single meal up with cheese and ham (and sometimes chopped egg for good measure). I was especially sad about losing one of my favourite meal, chèvre chaud. Literally “hot goat's cheese”, chèvre chaud is a simple salad, with some kind of dressing and the simple-yet-delicious toasted bread and goat cheese on top. It's one of those meals that prove the old axiom: a fantastic dish is often made up of simple ingredients, and becomes more than the sum of its parts.

I wasn't even thinking about veganizing this dish, since vegan cheeses are rarely fantastic, and as a vegan, cheese dishes are something I have learned to modify but never replicate. So when I was at work on Friday, thinking about what I could eat as my pre-gym snack, the thought of my cashew “goat cheese” on toast did occur to me as an option. But only when I started craving the greens I had in the fridge did I realize that greens + cashew goat cheese on toast = vegan chèvre chaud.

And yes, it was delicious. It was almost like being back in Paris, except there were no surly waiters in sight!

Recipes for vegan cashew cheese abound: I'm sure google can help you there. I recommend crusty bread or chewy whole-grain bread, with a simple dressing. And please use green greens (not white, limp lettuce), for maximal texture as well as nutrition—baby arugula or spinach would be a wise choice. Slice off a bit off cashew cheese, put on top of toast, and put under the broiler until warmed. At this point, the last step is to dream of Paris.

The stuff of life

Mmmm, bread. The smell of baking bread is unparalleled. But I would venture to say that most people don't know how good baking bread smells. Or how a shmear of margarine melts into a slice cut off a still-warm loaf. Because no one bakes bread anymore.

When I take bread to book club or to work, it goes over well. Most people freak right out. "You actually made bread!?" It lessens the wonder somewhat when I say it's easy. But not much, because people don't actually believe me.

I think I had somewhat of an odd childhood--my parents actually cooked. From scratch most of the time. I know--and since you're a loyal, dedicated follower of my blog, you know too--my mom didn't really cook, but she did bake. We had fresh home-made muffins almost every week. And she made noodles from too, like my dad. And Dad always cooked from scratch. (Except for canned mushrooms. *shudder*) So it's not that weird to me that I make cupcakes and pasta and soup and pizza and bread all from scratch. But apparently it's weird to others.

So I say, "No really, it's easy. It takes a little time, but it's not hard." And no one believes me. So I expound, "The hardest part is having 3 or 4 uninterrupted hours to start the bread, let it rise a couple times, and bake it. But the process it self is easy." I think people may believe me a little at this point, but I doubt many of them are yet making bread from scratch.

But I want you to make bread from scratch. DO IT. It's delicious and very satisfying, and will impress the hell out of everyone, including your significant other, your boss, your boss's boss, and your mother-in-law. To facilitate this, I have summed it up into several E-Z steps, with helpful hints where necessary.

Step 1: combine ingredients.
This is pretty self-explanatory. The most important factor is remembering to stock enough flour and active yeast. It's a little messy: you will end up with dough on your hands.
Step 2: knead.
This one should be self-explanatory. If not: kneading allows the yeast to start working and allow the gluten to develop. It gives the bread its texture. Don't neglect the kneading.
Step 3: rise.
This one is easy. Once you've kneaded the bread, you have to leave it in a warm place to let it rise. I accomplish this by turning the oven on just enough to get a little warm (around 200 degrees), opening the oven door and placing the dough in its bowl on top of the stove.
Step 4: knead again.
Should be self-explanatory by now.
Step 5: rise again.
This time, when you're done kneading, the dough goes into a pan to rise.
Step 6: bake.
Make sure you pre-heat your oven and that you leave enough room above the pan so that when the bread rises it doesn't hit the element. Trust me: stupider things have been done.
Step 7: cool.
This is important: turn out the bread from the pan. Otherwise, as it cools moisture will be trapped between the pan and the bread, and the bread will get get moist on the outside. In case this comes as a surprise, I'll warn you: moist bread is bad.

Start with bread recipe from a cookbook or a website you trust, using ingredients you are familiar with. In only a few short hours you will have the smell of delicious warm bread wafting through your kitchen.