gratitude and bread…

…surviving a foul mood, a looming crisis, and a cranky back.

I’m going to wind my way toward baguettes vis-a-vis yet another lengthy, formulaic self-awareness journey: first an introduction to my frame of mind, next a little story or two, and then some resolution in the kitchen. It’s been 8 months since my last post so you sort of have it coming. It’s worth going along for the ride – the bread really is pretty swell so you can skip down if I’m too much.

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This photo reflects my disposition going into the new year. Here’s the set-up: I began the fall intentionally embracing my mundane routines while nursing a particularly apathetic mood. I was secretly waiting for a wave of inspiration to magically wash over me, or kick me in the ass. Honestly, either would have worked – I was gripped by a nasty case of writer’s block and hadn’t written a word in months. I suppose I thought that an open mind and open heart could clear the slate and solve the problem. I desperately needed to get out of my head, which was clogged with unsettled predicaments and manufactured dilemmas. My plan was to loosely embrace Shikantaza:

“a Zen meditation practice emphasizing the cultivation of pure awareness and non-attachment, without specific goals or methods.”

This was ridiculously challenging for someone who is extremely task- and goal-oriented and has a slightly anxious attachment style. But after a few months of sitting with all that pure awareness something kinda wonderful happened: I was slammed with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It wasn’t at all subtle, but rather a fantastic, almost goofy injection of contentment and appreciation. Little did I know that in the coming months gratitude would be my lifeline to sanity. I had received a truly invaluable gift, but it was not exactly what I was asking for. Zen is funny that way.

^{Press pause/play for slideshow Just because I was zenning all fall doesn’t mean I was useless. The highlight of my day was dinner time.}

Thankful as I was, I remained frustrated and unable to formally articulate my thoughts. And by November 6th I really had some thoughts. Without an outlet – creative, emotional, or otherwise – how was I going to manage my looming dread of the next few years? This was no silly mood, but a full-blown crisis. And then it dawned on me: wait, I adore cooking challenges and once upon a time I dabbled in photography. Writer’s block be damned, I tabled all that gratitude and channeled my feelings of disappointment, shock, and angst straight into the kitchen and got to work.

Even though I still couldn’t write a coherent paragraph, I could design a provocative visual story. It was something new – edgy and snarky with almost violent undertones, like nothing I’d done before. Voilà! I felt an instant catharsis…which felt a lot like instant karma but without any hint of revenge or schadenfreude. When I posted the pics on social media a few friends commented “yum!” not realizing the burger was made with drywall screws. Details, y’all. But I created, emoted, and released it to the world. I was one step closer.

New Years came and went and I just knew change was coming. Despite our society, economy, and political system trembling around me, I sensed a new personal chapter was about to unfold. There’s nothing like a little anticipatory gratitude in the face of an impending constitutional crisis. Even with all my meditative woo-woo, and admittedly an occasional glimpse at the Aquarius horoscopes, I was determined to remain practical and earth-bound. This was my moment and I was poised to recognize and seize the opportunities. Then BOOM…on day four of 2025 it hit me. I found myself literally earth-bound, not by clarity or humility but by a painfully unforgiving herniated disc and all the nerve nonsense that comes with it. I wish there was a cool story behind it, but nope; I sneezed whilst putting on a pair of slippers as I got up from a nap. I’m not proud of one single word of that sentence.

The back situation is pretty typical of late fifty-dom, despite my every effort to fight off scripted maturity and predetermined aging. I won’t expound the agony of an L5 disc crushing the nerves that run through my left side, but damn, that almost did me in. Today I have a solid care team and we’ve plotted a path to recovery, but a special shoutout goes to the not one, but TWO emergency rooms that failed to call in a spinal consult assuming I was shopping for opioids. The second ER visit did result in a morphine drip which took the edge off for 10 whole minutes. That was just enough time for a billing rep to pop in and try to get my credit card. I was drugged and writhing on an exam table hooked up to an IV in obvious agony and this woman is trying to coax $400 from me. She actually handed me my purse! I didn’t explode on her (yay, morphine) but I wasn’t nice – she slinked away empty-handed. Sometime around week three or four of suffering, during one of my worst 2:00 am spasms, I started a detailed list of people to sue. Not proud of that sentence either.

All that to say I am now wholly unamused by the first two months of this year, granted it started with a very low bar. However, in the name of gratitude I rediscovered the creative oasis that is my kitchen. The planning and preparation of my weeknight creations had become automatic, which is neither a fault nor a complaint. So for something new I decided to go back and reexamine some basics I glazed over for years. What’s more basic than bread?

I’ve always insisted “I do not bake,” and that’s mostly true except for the occasional Challah, some easy Christmas cookies, my beloved birthday brownies, or a tray of bagels just to show off. I was never tempted by the pandemic sourdough starter craze and I have absolutely no business cranking out a bunch of sweet goodies. But the social media recipe that got me was touted as a simple, overnight pseudo-baguette with only 5 ingredients. It’s really more of a ciabatta shaped like a baguette. There are just a few easy steps and no kneading, so I can make them without straining my back. Plus, other than some critical dry measurements there is just enough wiggle room for me to improvise and not burn down the house.

Baguettes are sacred en France, but mediocre frozen, take-and-bake, and mass-produced packaged fakes are ubiquitous in American grocery stores. The more authentic independent bakery alternatives can be excellent, but pricey. So why wasn’t I baking my own? Okay, I know why – carbs aren’t my friends. But the occasional warm, crusty loaf with dinner is one of the pillars of civilized dining.

Ever since I was sidelined by my misbehaving back, I’ve targeted all many medication around the five o’clock hour. This is to ensure that I will have both the gumption and ability to cook a fun, yummy dinner. And by “fun” I mean fun to plan, fun to orchestrate, fun to prepare, and fun to eat. Yummy is obvious and non-negotiable. Some days my back rebels and it just doesn’t happen, so my loyal Sous Chef takes over. But on the good days simply making dinner gives me a creative, adventurous high that even a fistful of Percocet cannot rival. I am eternally grateful for finding a passion so fulfilling and enriching that it saved me from frustration, then from despair, and then from pain. For the second time in my adult life the kitchen has come to the rescue…and look who’s writing again! Not all heroes wear capes, indeed.

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Rustic Ciabatta-y “Baguettes”

This recipe calls for bread flour and instant yeast and I suggest you not substitute either. I’ve learned that another key to baking in general is to measure flour by weight, not volume. Please hunt down a digital food scale – I assure you it’s life-changing. The most challenging part of this recipe is patience, which has never been my strong suit, so plan accordingly and freeze strategically.

Ingredients

• 950 g bread flour (about 6 cups)
• 2 tsp salt
• ¾ tsp quick-rise instant yeast
• 750 ml warm water
• 2 Tbs honey

Method

1. Find a very large bowl that will allow space for the rising bread to double. Using a scale, add exactly 950 grams of bread flour, the salt (I use Diamond Crystal), and the yeast. Mix these dry ingredients thoroughly to distribute the yeast.
2. Pour in the warm water and honey and slowly mix. It will take a few minutes to get all of the flour incorporated, but that’s the goal. You will not have a perfect, smooth ball, but it shouldn’t be loose or shaggy either – just an ugly wad of mixed dough. Cover with a lid or plastic wrap and leave to proof overnight in a warm spot.
3. After a solid 8-12 hours of proofing and rising, preheat the oven to 465°.
4. The dough should be doubled and crepey enough to pour onto a heavily floured worktop. Use a spatula to coax the sticky dough around the sides and bottom of the bowl. Flour the top of the dough heavily as well. Use a bench scraper or wide knife to shape the blob into a long rectangle. Cut the dough into 4 equal parts.
5. Line a wire rack with parchment paper. This will go directly into the oven without a baking sheet underneath.
6. Handling the dough gently, coax each of the 4 pieces into an oblong baguette shape and place them on the papered rack. Be careful not to over-handle the dough or lose any air pockets. The baguettes will look quite rustic, and by rustic I mean hideous and crude.
7. Pop the rack into your preheated oven for 25 minutes until the baguettes are golden and crispy on top.
8. LET THEM COOL! I know it’s hard to wait and we always have one sacrificial baguette that everybody wants to butter and gobble while it’s steaming. Then we freeze two for later and we are set for the week.

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