The Secret's in the Crust

It’s been a bit of a rollercoaster these past few weeks.  Being apart from my fam, it’s been even harder, but, I think, things are starting to buck up again.  It also helps that my street is drop-dead gorgeous with its tall arching trees, old houses, and a winding, dipping path down to the zoo.  Families and young people are out, dogs are being walked, people are laughing, and, thankfully, the humidity hasn’t set in so I’m not quite looking like Sideshow Bob yet. 

I’ve also re-encountered a new, easy, and favorite breakfast food.  I think I’d accidentally forgotten about it, but thankfully, Banana Bread hadn't forgotten about me.  I like to think it's been lingering around in the back of my mind, waiting (just like the frozen bananas in the back of my freezer) for some months now, and the gift of a week of real and true Spring (!) was the perfect time to make this Coconut Banana Bread,  slather on some butter, and watch the happy wanderers below my window.

This bread is good, with a spattering of sweetened coconut inside, a whisper of rum, and a crackly crust. To be honest with you, it's the rustic and uneven crackly top (thanks to a hefty sprinkling of sugar) that absolutely made me fall in love with it.  This was also the first time I used frozen bananas in a quick bread, and it was kind of nice knowing I had the foresight to save overly ripened fruit in my freezer for further works of baked goods.  It's also reassuring to open my freezer and still see three frozen bananas waiting for their next repurposed dessert... banana cake perhaps?  The options are endless, as is my love of banana bread for breakfast. 

Wednesday Musings, and Bread

No matter where I call home anymore, feel like a boat under the trees. Living is strange. -C.D. Wright, from the poem "Living"

It is almost Thursday, and rather than studying feverishly for my test and paper tomorrow , trying to write my name in ancient Mayan, or preparing for my Final which is Friday which sounds somewhat cruel (FINALFRIDAY), I am instead thinking of poetry and lovely writings and how, sometimes, I just need to write a bit more creatively and not necessarily about food.

Does that ever happen to you? To strive to be a bit more than you currently just are, at least for a few minutes?

I also feel nostalgic for something I can't quite put my finger on, but I'm pretty sure it's somehow related to warmth and sunlight (got a lovely but brief glimpse today). Which brings me to contemplating the aromatic niceties of a loaf of bread and suddenly I am back to writing what I know and it seems like the poetry will have to wait for when I'm snuggled in my bed at night with my notebook.

At least I can linger over the words of a poet, spend the evening with them, mull them over between definitions on ancient civilizations of the Americas, and come to the final conclusion of "Well said, Miss Wright. Sometimes I do feel like a boat under the trees. Sometimes home is here or there, and yes. Living is strange," and that'll be that.

It doesn't hurt to have an extra encouraging thought comfort you along the way to finishing your first class in almost seven years (prehistoric ancient civilizations no less!), finishing this winter, and being proud of it all, in the end. A nice thought like baking Buttermilk Oatmeal Bread works well, and having the yeast beasties be pretty awesome at the start is always a good sign.

Seriously, this yeast was crazy and almost spilled over in about 5 minutes.

It's also rather lovely to have a ball of dough to knead your thoughts in and through and out of.

Then finally ending up this winter with a delicious bread that reminds me of my favorite maple bread, but instead this one is a bit like a toasty biscuit along the crust because of the buttermilk and honey nestled in the crumb, along with the heartiness of oatmeal. It is an ideal sandwich bread, an all-round good bread, and I'd like to share a nice and dense slice with you.

Please don't laugh too hard at the shape of my bread...I lost my bread pan and used a soup pot instead. 

To March being here, finally, and to your own almost-spring Wednesday night musings.  And of course, to Buttermilk Oatmeal Bread.

Pita For One, Pita For All

In my hometown of AZ there’s a nifty chain of local restaurants called Pita Jungle.  I love me some Pita Jungle when I go home, mostly because I'm convinced some part of my mongrel self has some Mediterranean  or Middle Eastern soul up in here.  Also, it's just so good.   I like to think that, somewhere out there, there’s a literal jungle full of pita trees, with pita vines, and awesome coconuts that break open to provide fresh tabbouleh, hummus, and baba ghanoush.  Oh, it would be my heaven, I can assure you.

So the other day I was thinkin:  you know, my G makes homemade parathas and rotis (Indian Pita!) and I've made tortillas (Mexican Pita!) but nothing, really, can compete with original, awesome, PITA when you want to serve it up with some hummus and other Mediterranean/Middle Eastern goodness.

It’s a flatbread! It’s a holder of delicious goodness!  It’s It’s It’s…awesome, and you need to see that it’s not hard or scary to make and quite lovely, actually.  It’s especially lovely after a long day and all you have is some veggies and maybe a smidge of balsamic white bean dip sitting around, and, suddenly, you have dinner.

Or breakfast in this case, where I whipped up some delicious basil and mozzarella eggs to accompany my new stack of pita.   

Dear Pita:  Thanks for being so versatile and awesome.  I love having you around for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Next time I promise to reunite you with your BFF, tabbouleh and maybe some hummus.  We'll have a party.  Love, Samantha. 

Go Bananas

First you peel, banana, peel- peel banana

Then you eat banana, eat-eat banana

Then you GO Bananas! GO-GO Bananas!


I think I sang that song about a thousand times during my years in youth group growing up. In the vans traveling around for volleyball games or Sonora, Mexico to build houses or just to plain ole’ winter camp, that song ping-ponged around the van and made us laugh banana-inspired giggles.

Bananas, I know, are not for everyone. In fact, I know people who absolutely, positively hate bananas. Me? I personally like them, but I do not love them. I especially do not love them in fruit salads where they get brown and slimey. Bleh. But bananas, when combined with other powerful food forces, are pretty damn good. Like with homemade granola on some Greek yogurt, drizzled in honey. Or as Bananas Foster. Or, like in a tried-and-true favorite: Banana Bread.

From The Vagabond Table

Growing up my mom was a pro at things like Zucchini Bread and Banana Bread. The banana bread my mom baked had caramelized nuts and coconut on top, was ridiculously decadent, and after my college days in Ohio (where regular packages of these breads found their way into my little postbox), has seemingly disappeared from my regular staples of food munchies.

But no more.

Alas, while mourning the loss of mom’s coconut banana bread, I happened upon this recipe from Molly’s blog over at Orangette, which was perfect. I had exactly two bananas beyond the point of help in the fridge. I had no walnuts to throw in the batter. I had, in short, everything I needed to make this Cinnamon-Sugar Crusted Banana Bread. I like how when the stars align, I get Banana Bread. Thanks, Universe!

From The Vagabond Table

I substituted half the white sugar in the recipe for brown sugar, which made the loaf much darker than normal banana bread, but even tastier. And, with a nod to the fam back in AZ, I threw a couple of handfuls of grated, sweetened coconut along with the cinnamon-sugar mixture onto the top of the loaf. What I love is the crunch: slice into a piece of this and you are first met with a crispy crust of crackly deliciousness. What lies beneath is a dark and moist crumb, not too banana-y, and mostly just right. Slather some butter on and I might just be in heaven. Or, alternatively, I might be eating this exact breakfast (and post-dinner snack) for a week straight.

It could just be the perfect pre-Thanksgiving breakfast to tide you over until the real show begins.

Say Hello To Your New Breakfast

Ya’ll. I hate to break it to you summer-lovers out there, but Fall, indeed, is nearly upon us.

There’s a chilly breeze (7 nights in a row!) and sunny-cloudy days. I dream about drinking coffee, wrapped in a scarf, sitting on a park bench somewhere reading Jane Eyre. Yep. Definitely Fall. Or, at least, the whispers of the beginning of it.

I’ve also discovered, with no small amount of surprise, that while I really really like cooking (and I do!) I looove baking. There’s just something so satisfying about putting some kind of concoction in the oven and having something entirely different come out. Usually something delicious and warm and toasty. It’s kind of like a chemistry experiment, except that you get to eat the results, usually with a coffee in hand, instead of wearing dorky plastic glasses and stupid rubber gloves. I like Baking Science...I just wish they offered that class in high school.

My friends, I have discovered possibly the best bread you could ever bake by yourself. Just to make sure my yeast-prowess wasn’t a fluke the first time around, this past week I baked it for a second time, but this go-round I threw in some wheat flour for good measure. And boy, was it a good measure.

From The Vagabond Table

Originally the recipe was called “Maple White Bread” but since I added wheat, I guess I’ll just be calling it Maple Bread from now on. But don’t be fooled. It isn’t sweet so much as a memory of sweet. It has the essence of maple, the warmth of maple, but not the nearly-over-sweetness of syrup. Does any of this even make sense? All I know, is that for two weeks in a row, I have baked my own loaf of bread. I might even have the recipe memorized at this point. I've shared this toasty goodness with the roomie and with colleagues, and, all around, it was a number one prize winner of a solid loaf of bread.

From The Vagabond Table

The thing is… it’s a GREAT slicing bread. Nice, thick, gorgeous slices of bread, toasted up for breakfast with a slather of butter is perfection. Jam is nice too, but I must say, even after trying this bread with homemade jam and apple butter, I'd take regular ole' butter with this bread any day. Ohhhh good heavens.

From The Vagabond Table

As I contemplate my baker-tendencies, I’ll comfort myself with awesome toasty breakfasts as I watch autumn start to creep in and surprise me with yellow leaves and chilly nights. I hope by now you've conquered your yeast-based fears (like I have!) and can do the same.

Summer Break

To the beach we go.
To the waves and fresh air.
To Dogfish.
To dreaming and talking
To the beach we go.

Ah, to the beach we go!
To the wind in our hair and the sand in our toes
To sleeping deeply and laughing loudly
To salty fresh breezes
and singing out loud
Ah, to the beach we go!

From The Vagabond Table

I recently took a little jaunt down to Rehoboth Beach with my roomie. We stayed at a lovely B&B (1/2 block from the beach! Center of it all! On a magical lane named “Brooklyn!”) This house even had a screened in porch. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my obsession of porches, but I have a deep, revered love for them. For playing card games late at night. For rocking on chairs and swinging on hammocks and breakfasting and lunching and dining, I'm pretty sure porches are a favorite of mine from some prior life in the old south.

From The Vagabond Table

It was a grand ol’ time. We threw a mix called “I Heart the 90’s” into our rental car, belted out some Alanis and Pearl Jam and grooved to The Avett Brothers and Chatham County Line. We drove past lots of corn fields and farms and adorable fruit stands with names like “Ma and Pa’s Market.” We went there, and I must say Ma was rather nice, too.

From The Vagabond Table

This was my first trip to the Atlantic coast beaches, my first time dipping my toes into cold water and seeing early morning from the east coast. I’m used to southern California beaches, and while I can’t quite put my finger on it, it was different. And lovely.

From The Vagabond Table

We mulled our lives over some great brews at the Dogfish Head Brewpub and discovered the most amazing Italian Salumeria and Pasticceria at Touch of Italy where we bought dried Italian figs, fresh-made mozzarella, and grilled olives. I also tried a delicious cold Peach Soup (with champagne, nutmeg, and coconut milk, no less!) at a fantastic restaurant called Hobo’s.

It was a good time.

One of my favorite parts was coming back home Sunday evening and rehashing everything over a cherry-tomato, basil, and mozzarella salad with a great new recipe I found for Rosemary Focaccia bread.

From The Vagabond Table

From The Vagabond Table

Heaven in my bowl! Heaven in the oven! By heavens, I have been blessed with most-excellent Delaware farm-fresh produce and a wicked Rosemary Focaccia bread recipe to match. Have I suddenly become a baker? Have I lost all fear of yeast (and kneading) doughs? So many tough questions, but they are balanced by easy recipes and lovely summer suppers, and, I think, they are questions that can be left to ponder during colder winter months.

Bringin' Baking Back

You know that lovely, apartment-warming, hug-your-face smell of freshly baked bread? Not a quick bread like pumpkin or zucchini or banana (all good though!) but a straight-up crackly-crusted loaf of hearty delicious bread?

Yeah, well, I didn’t either because I know like 2 people who bake bread at home, and it’s more of a mythical connection, the kind that’s practically an urban legend these days. “You know my friend Susie? Well she says her friend Ben’s cousin has an older sister in Vermont somewhere that bakes bread every week.” Oh really. Sure she does.

I feel like homemade bread-baking has gone the way of unicorns and mermaids. Every once in a while you hear that so-and-so has seen one, the news gets a hold of it, everyone gets all excited and then poof. They are gone, back into the mythical realm from which they came. I feel like the art of baking bread has become a mystical tale from the dark ages, where baking was a trade and the French made it an art form. Of course they did. They’re French, and everything, from cheese to wine to bread is a thing to create with dedication and pride. I love the French.



Well, I’m a modern day gal with an aversion to baking with yeast, since yeast intimidates me and freaks me out just a little bit and is finicky and and and…

I was restless in the kitchen and needed to do something creative and artsy and pride-inducing with food, apparently needing to embrace my mythical Medieval self and whatnot, and nothing came to mind except baking a loaf of crusty bread, something on my list of “Things To Make In 2010.”

From The Vagabond Table

In prior No-Knead breads I’ve tried, I always thought they lacked a bit of salt. What can I say? I’m a salty type of gal. Anyhoo, this recipe is ALL over the internet, any blogger worth their salt (ha!) has made this, cooed about it, loved it, and praised it to the moon and back and, after trying my own hand at it, I must say that I have to echo their sentiments of high praise.

From The Vagabond Table

You’re supposed to let it rise overnight, and then rise some more the next day… I let it rise for a full 19.5 hours. !!! I kind of left it a bit longer than recommended (12-18 hours) but I was busy and it was a Sunday, you see. If anything, I think it made it even better with an almost sourdough-like flavor. I also used a sprinkling of cornmeal which I adore on baked items and upped the salt a bit. Friends, this bread not only made my apartment smell as delicious as it tasted, but lasted me the better part of a week in breakfast provisions. Score.

From The Vagabond Table

My only gripe is that by the time I got to actually baking it, it was time to go to bed and that best first-pulled-out-of-the-oven crackly slice of bread was a short-lived wonder. Next time I won’t wait 19.5 hours and edge closer to 15 so I can have at least 3 slices. Side note: Impressing your friends has never been easier… or more time consuming, but I’m focusing on the easy part of this recipe.