The Wonderful World of Michael Schwab

Today I'm serving a wonderful leftover - a story that was assigned by a magazine and never used. Why serve it here? Because outstanding work is one of the ways we identify beauty in this world. Take a look.

Works of passion have long defined how we see the American West. Ansel Adams captured the effect of light and shadow on landscapes. Georgia O’Keeffe, the majesty of jimson weed and skulls. Remington and Russell, the breathless energy of cowboys and Indians.

Graphic designer Michael Schwab has yet another view, captured in his posters and logotypes for clients stretching from Well’s Fargo Bank, Amtrak and the Golden Gate National Parks to Robert Redford’s Sundance Resort. In the tradition of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West posters, Schwab seeks to engage the viewer, tell a story and make it timeless.

His American West as a place of grandeur, reduced to its most potent form, like a fine sauce.

“Uncomplicated, spacious, meditative, vast, natural, quiet, dramatic, powerful – all of these come to mind” when thinking about Western people and places, Schwab says from his drafting table in a studio that is part barn, part high-tech enclave tucked away at the foot of Mount Tamalpais in San Anselmo, Calif. Nailed plywood sheets make up the floor. The ceiling is sloped, beamed and airy. On top of the fireplace is a row of awards, all shaped like the Coit Tower.

It is a majestic space, uncluttered and drenched with light, yet here and there are pieces a prop master would love – an ancient pair of ski poles, a polo mallet, a forest hanger’s hat, deer horns, a gigantic bass fiddle, needed for a Fillmore poster.

Redford himself has stepped through the studio doorway, over which is a Schwab poster of “The Cowboy,” a dramatically simple profile of a dude wearing a yellow slicker, Stetson and blue glasses.

“Mr. Redford was an art student originally. He saw something in my work and just liked it. It hit him, so he wanted me to create something for Sundance, which I did,” says Schwab, whose work for Sundance included various poster images and even wine labels. (Schwab and his wife, photographer Kathryn Kleinman, have also visited Redford at Sundance and liked it so well, they ended up buying a cottage there.)

Of Schwab’s design Redford has said, “There is a classic quality to his work – contemporary, but never trendy – that unique point of view.”

What Redford and others see is design that is calming to look at: timeless shapes, a strong sense of color, a preference for minimal type. People look at Schwab’s work and think of another era – the German propaganda posters of the 1930s, labels on California fruit boxes, a relation somehow to Peter Max.

Schwab begins his creative process with a concept, a camera and a sketch pad.
“I do a lot of research, and usually I take photos of my subjects and do a real study of them, whether it’s a landscape or a character. In the case of Lance Armstrong (done for Gero helmets), I had to just come up with a profile of him. That poster wasn’t working for a while, and I remember I couldn’t figure out why. So I went back and looked at other photos of him racing, and I realized that his mouth was always wide open when he’s racing. He’s just sucking in air, and so I opened his mouth on this poster, and all of a sudden, it just came to life.”

Schwab’s reductive style has been hailed a welcome sight in an increasingly noisy landscape of computer-generated, contemporary design. Schwab says he just embraces his own Western heritage through heroic, meaningful portrayals of the people and places that typify the American West. His view is that good design is succinct, immediate, and can be seen from way across the room, he says.

“I’m always trying to simplify things. I’ll simplify things to the point that there’s just nothing there.”

On a rainy day in Marin County, Schwab himself is dressed reductively in black oxford shirt, jeans and cowboy boots.

“There’s so much visual noise out there that I really try to simplify my work down to the essence in order to communicate graphics effectively,” says Schwab, holding out packaged snacks he designed called Lara bars, featuring simple text and cool, offbeat colors. “My work is commercial art, clearly, but I strive to create images that people don’t mind living around.”

He was born and raised in Ardmore, Okla., a small farming community north of the Red River. At his grandfather’s ranch, he worked Hereford cattle, drove a tractor, fished, hunted and gained an early appreciation for the land.

Drawing was something that came naturally.

“I was always the class artist in school, drawing hot rods, crazy stuff. My art teacher would be handing back papers to everyone, and she’d look at me and take me out in the hall, where she would tear up my papers. She’d say ‘Michael, you’ve got to stop drawing this kind of thing.’"

At age 18, Schwab attended art school at East Texas State University, later moving on to the School of Visual Arts in New York.

“It got to be summer time and hot, and sweaty, and I couldn’t see the sky, and I had to go home to Oklahoma,” he says. “I still wanted to go to a good art school. And luckily I was able to go to Art Center College of Design in Los Angeles. Man, that was really something.”

He moved to San Francisco, where he landed one of his first big commissions – a poster for Levi jeans.

“That to me was a big deal. I felt like ‘Wow, I’ve arrived now, I’m working on Levi’s.”

Today, he often works on three to five projects a month but is careful not to overschedule himself and the two assistants he works with. When we visited, he had just finished a design campaign for Amtrak he’d worked on a couple of years and had also finished up graphics for the Major League Baseball All-Star game.

An avid mountain biker, snow skier and rock climber, he also makes time to play guitar in a band Schwab and his friends call Meat + Potatoes.

Beautiful work comes easier when you live in a beautiful place.
The advantage of living where he does is obvious.

"It comes down to the weather and the light. They’re so beautiful here. Driving across the Golden Gate bridge with the light shooting across it at the end of the day is just stunning, and it’s interesting too, because the weather here – this is my theory – matches what’s going on in the Mediterranean, where all that artwork was created in Italy and France. And the light is the same, the atmosphere is the same, and people don’t have to work at keeping warm or living in a harsh environment. It’s a beautiful environment and it’s an inspiring environment, and there’s just so much art and inspiration and beauty.

And California Is so full of people like me, who have come from maybe the hard-working Midwest work ethic, but they come out here and they can do things that are accepted instead of staying back there and having people make fun of you or tear up your work. You can come out here and really create things and have them celebrated."

And seeing the beautiful effect on his work when he least expects it still gives him a thrill.

“I’ll be reading The New York Times and I’ll see one of the Amtrak ads and think ‘Wow, this goes around the world. And I’m from Ardmore, Oklahoma.'”


See what I mean? Did you check out his design work? Feast your eyes at www.michaelschwab.com.

Getting Fried at the State Fair of Texas

P.T. Barnum is thought to have claimed there's a "sucker born every minute," but friends and acquaintances aren't so sure. What he might have said is, "There's a customer born every minute," and no matter how he said it, I am the living proof of it either way.

At the annual Greek Food Festival Saturday night, the talk was all about the "fried butter" at the State Fair of Texas. Apparently the fact that someone would think to take a ball of butter, coat it and deep fry it - and sell it - has made national news. Those who haven't tried it have rained scorn upon it - and those who have tried it are OK with it, was the word I got. And so I spent the day at the State Fair, tasting not only the fried butter but also the chicken-fried bacon, fried peaches and cream and fried s'mores.

I didn't get to the fried latte, the fried peanut butter and jelly or the fried moon pies - and didn't make it to the annual classic, the corn dog. Here's my unscientific and totally biased findings:

Chicken-Fried Bacon: It received the Big Tex "Choice Award," "Best Taste" in 2008 and was a finalist this year. At $5 for about four crispy strips, it tastes like you'd expect - a crunchy, hot-fried exterior and a crumbly bacon interior. It wasn't bad; I dipped it in mustard. Wash it down with a Shiner Bock.

Would I eat it again: It's like the chocolate bacon you can buy - OK for a test run but then forget it; spend the calories elsewhere (and there are plenty of elsewheres).

Fried Butter at the Big As Texas booth: Generating a lot of foodie press, and a Choice Award for "Most Creative," it's this year's guilty curiosity. The outer fried biscuit dough tastes similar to a hush puppy, with a softish interior. Available in original, grape, cherry or garlic versions, we chose the garlic. $5 gets you the item shown in the 2nd photo above.

Verdict: It's a novelty, saved by dousing it with a product I hadn't seen before, Lemon-Lime Salt from the Twang company, which apparently is available at Amazon.

Would I eat it again: No, but pass me that salt.

Fernie's Deep Fried Peaches & Cream: Voted "Best Tasting" in the Choice Awards for 2009, so we had to know. $5 gets you a plate strafed with a bit of red, raspberry flavored syrup, a dollop of whipped cream, four fried peaches, a couple of peaches au naturel (I feel they were canned, but if they weren't, they'd been soaked in something), and a little cup of vanilla-flavored I don't know what that has been described as vanilla-butter cream sauce. The first bite reminded me of fried pies; the second bite I didn't take.

Would I eat it again: No. Too sweet, too gloppy, too much like canned peaches. Guess it's a good thing I don't judge the awards; another blogger raved about it.

Fried S'mores: Can anything go wrong when you have the campfire classic of graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate? Drench it in funnel cake batter, a little hot oil, and a dusting of powdered sugar and you're in business. Another $5 down the hatch. The outer texture evoked New Orleans and a hot beignet, the inside was the melting chemistry of choc, marsh and cracker. See the first photo above.

Would I eat it again: Umm, yeah. The portion isn't large; it's about the size of a regular campfire s'more, but even so it's too rich to go it alone, so yes, I'd eat it again, but I'd share it with someone.

The local food press has noted that creators of the fried butter and the fried peaches and cream have placed as a finalist or won top prizes at the State Fair of Texas before, giving us fried grilled cheese sandwich in 2008 and fried Coke in 2006.

Like I said, there's a customer born every minute, and a sucker, too.

Ducking the Soup

Today you get an image from inside dear Grand Central Terminal as a wink to my friend Abbie Strassler, who lives in New York and has the enviable title of General Manager for the national tour of "Spring Awakening." I have a lot of catching up to do with Abbie; we were young lasses in classes in the "golden age" of life in Connecticut (the men went off to Manhattan every day; the women ran the town). Abbie and I are coming up on our "ahem" high school reunion in a few weeks, and I want to know how she made it to Broadway. To whet my appetite, she told me a funny story involving food and manners.

"Back in 1983, I was the company manager for "The King and I" starring Yul Brynner. He and his new young wife invited me out for dinner - Japanese food. Remember it was 1983 - sushi was just getting its foot in the door. I had been getting lessons on chopsticks from the kids in the show but was nowhere near proficient nor well versed in what to eat. So his wife asked me to try Uni (sea urchin), which I now have learned is an acquired taste. Just swallowing was an effort. Next on the menu was Sabu Sabu, the brothy soup where you sort of cook the meat in the broth, and it has the longest noodles I've ever seen. So when I was asked if I wanted noodles (all I could think of was, how do you eat them with chopsticks?), I said I didn't eat noodles. Imagine someone who didn't eat noodles!"

Yes Abbie, food does have that way of leveling us at times when we're trying to be gracious and gastronomically suave. Have you ever dropped a crab cake and the entire pile of slaw it was nesting on into your dinner napkin - while being interviewed for a high-profile job? I have. My strategy? Keep talking. Nobody saw you flip the meal into your lap.

Did I get the job? If the crab cake escaped my grasp, imagine how skillfully the opportunity brushed by.

See you at the reunion, Abbie. I'll be the one in the red pillbox hat. I will not be eating.

The Very Lovely Day

Today has been a stunner, an absolutely lovely gorgeous day. What did P.G. Wodehouse say when he put words into Bertie Wooster's mouth? "Today I rose with the lark, and I think, the snail."

The morning began with a rollout of croissant dough, to be baked in Herbs de Provence, Cracked Pepper, Roasted Garlic and Plain versions and shoveled off to Joe Ortiz in Capitola, who has promised to examine the effort and give his opinion. I worked with finesse to bring about a good batch of buttery rolls but the fact is, I had my mind sneaking off to the second assignment of the day - to interview one of the world's most beautiful women for an article in SUCCESS Magazine. The rules of Hoyle prevent me from saying who she is until the article runs in the magazine, but I can tell you how she struck me: as lovely on the inside as on the outside, which led to all her print and film work.

I've interviewed a few shining faces over the years, and like the rest of us, they have their preferences. Did you know that Ginger Rogers would only accept two types of gifts from fans? White roses . . . and ginger ale. Stars can be particular. Opinionated. Obstreperous to use a very pompous word, but then again so can I, so I try not to judge on the things I know nothing about - and that's other people's lives.

Don't assume I'll wander off here, the point is that the woman I spoke with today made my day a beautiful one, all because she told me "thank you." She thanked me for being so carefully prepared for the interview, and for giving her thoughtful questions. I know my eyebrows raised. The moment was delicious. It was a phone interview, and she couldn't see the flour sticking to my eyebrows.

I don't know why more famous folk don't think to say thanks - maybe all the queries drain them of the mental juices so they end up thinking "when, when is this over?" instead of "thank you for your interest in my work."

Were she here right now, I'd give her a fresh croissant and good sweet tea in a Haviland cup. I'd say, "Here's to you. Here's to the lovely day."

Merci mille foie, beautiful star.

A Tart for the Heart

If you've got apples, throw out the coffeecake scheme and get your elbows into something you could do with the Gentleman Caller's help. I urge with the same fervor as I do a hat for my head to block unfriendly spells that you go all out! Think higher power. Try making a classic French Tarte Tatin.

Start by watching Julia Child make La Tarte Tatin and you'll sympathize with her at the moment she goes to, no, I won't spoil the reveal. After watching and then gathering your apples, get into the book I've mentioned, "The Village Baker's Wife," where Gayle and Joe Ortiz recommend starting out making small ones (4- to 6-inch) to get the feel of this tarte, page 277.

You can also find guidance from the book "Baking With Julia," based on the PBS series hosted by Child, which has a variation called the French Apple Tart that doesn't involve flipping the contents. Flip tends to produce flop in my kitchen.

I am always radiant with smile when presented with a recipe mentioning the word "carmelize." You have a sweet opportunity waiting for you. Get out your beret, and bon chance!

Waffling Toward Pancakes

Yup. I sure am missing me some of that Home Slice Bakery nestled in the valley just outside of Dubois, Wyoming. The aura. The aroma. The view of the river and mountains from the picture window in the kitchen.

And am missing your croissants with their first bite of crisp that gives way to flake and flavor. I am tasting them vicariously.

That spiced waffle recipe sounds amazing. And as fall is settling in, complete with cool dampness in the air and leaves dropping like, well, leaves, your recipe sounds perfect for wooing my Gentleman Caller. Alas, no waffle iron. Know any secrets to transforming waffle batter to pancake batter? I should know this.

Although it's apple season. So I may be doing an apple coffeecake. Got a good recipe?

Croissants to Crow About

Croissant au Levain

First know this:
If you’ve never worked with bread dough before, all right, you can still go ahead, but please consider first making Gayle’s Croissants from “The Village Baker’s Wife,” which do not require a sourdough starter. You’ll learn the technique for doing the roll-in and turns necessary to get the butter worked correctly into the dough layers – and Gayle explains all in her book (available on the Gayle’s Bakery website).

If you must have the Croissant au Levain toot sweet but don’t have a sourdough starter, the book gives a recipe for how to create your own – keep in mind you’ll need a few days to grow it – this is not a quick cab ride down Culinary Avenue so don’t expect to start on Wednesday for your special guest’s arrival on Friday.
That being said, here’s a timetable if you DO have your own starter.

Croissant Sample Timetable

First Day
3 p.m.: Make sponge
9 p.m.: Make dough and let rise
10 p.m.:
Refrigerate dough

Second Day
9 a.m. to 11 a.m.: Do roll-in (to turns)
11 a.m.: Refrigerate dough overnight

Third Day
8 a.m.: Do final turn, roll out dough, shape croissants and proof

2 to 3 p.m.: Bake
Note: This timetable is subject to shift a la wind, weather and especially altitude. When I tried this timetable in Dubois, Wyoming, the responsiveness of the dough was eye-popping. In the reefer (as M.F. K. Fisher lovingly calls the fridge), the dough blew up into the rack above it, more than double in size. It took half the time for the dough to rise one the croissants were shaped – something about less oxygen or atmospheric pressure? Don’t ask me. Just watch and be aware that dough leavened with natural yeast at various altitudes does what dough will.
Second thought: The dough is also affected by ATTITUDE. If you’re feeling blue or worse like Holly Golightly battling through the “Mean Reds,” try this another day. The dough senses mood. Yeast is a living organism, you need to understand that.

First day:

Sponge
½ cup liquid sourdough starter
¼ cup water
½ cup whole-wheat flour
In a medium bowl, make the sponge, diluting the starter with the water. Add the whole-wheat flour and mix with a wooden spoon until smooth. This mixture will be the consistency of thick batter. Let rise 5 to 6 hours, or until doubled.

Dough
1 package active dry yeast
2 cups warm water
½ cup butter, softened and cut into small chunks
Scant ½ cup powdered milk
7 cups bread flour (or all-purpose flour if you prefer it)
2 tablespoons salt
½ cup sugar

2 ½ cups (20 ounces) cold butter

Egg Glaze
1 egg
2 tablespoons cold water


For the dough, dilute the yeast in ¼ cup of the warm water. Set aside until creamy, about 10 minutes.

Place the sponge and the remaining 1 ¾ cups of water in a large bowl. Add the ½ cup of butter and the milk powder and mix with a wooden spoon until moderately incorporated. Add the yeast mixture and stir to combine.

In a small bowl, combine the flour, salt and sugar. Slowly add the dry mixture to the wet mixture, stirring with a wooden spoon or plastic dough scraper. Mix only until all the dry ingredients are incorporated. The dough will be damp and sticky but workable.

Knead the dough no more than a few minutes on a lightly floured surface, working out any dry spots. Cover with a damp towel and let rise for 1 hour at room temperature.
Punch the dough down, then shape it into a flat 12 x 6 x 3-inch square. Cover the dough in plastic wrap or a split-open plastic food storage bag, and refrigerate for 12 to 15 hours. (Mamma Mia says, keep all parts covered or sections exposed to air will develop a distasteful crust.)

For the roll-in, wrap all of the butter in parchment paper and pound it with a rolling pin until it is soft and malleable. Then, remove the parchment paper and, on the lightly floured work surface, with the rolling pin and a metal dough scraper alternately roll and shape the butter into a rectangle measuring 10 x 10 x ½-inch thick.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and roll it out into a 24 x 12-inch rectangle. Place the slab of butter on the right half of the dough, fold the other half of the dough over the butter, and pinch the edges together to form a flat pillow.

Cover the dough pillow and transfer it to the refrigerator to rest for 10 minutes. To complete the first turn, remove the dough from the refrigerator and roll it out to approximately 30 x 12 inches. Fold the dough in thirds (turn the bottom up to the center, then fold the top down onto the bottom). Then re-cover and let it rest in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Complete the second turn, rolling the dough out the opposite way and folding it into thirds again. Cover the dough and store overnight in the refrigerator. Repeat the process one more time the next day.

After the third turn is completed, cut the dough in half. Cover one half and return it to the refrigerator (Joe Ortiz says that keeping the dough chilled is beyond essential. Keep that dough cold).

Roll the other half into a 16-inch-wide rectangle 1/8-inch-thick and cut it into two 8-inch-wide strips. Cut each strip into 9 or 10 triangles with 5-inch bases.
Starting with the base of the triangles, fold ¼ inch of the dough over onto itself and begin rolling the triangle up to the point. Gently stretch the dough by pulling on the tip as you roll it. Leave the pointed ends straight instead of curling into horns.

Repeat the process with the remaining half of the refrigerated dough or reserve it in the refrigerator for up to 2 days or in the freezer for up to 2 weeks.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Place the croissants at least 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Whisk together the egg and water to make the glaze. Lightly brush each croissant with the glaze. Let rise, uncovered, for 4 or 5 hours at room temperature.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Brush the croissants once more with the glaze. Place the baking sheets on the center rack in the oven and bake for 18 minutes, or until golden brown.

(Recipe reprinted with permission from Joe Ortiz, author of “The Village Baker” and co-author of “The Village Baker’s Wife.”)

Mamma Mia says:
From plain to fancy, you can go so many directions with this wonderful croissant recipe, adding herbs for one batch, cracked pepper, roasted garlic, fillings, chocolate, and on and on.

Mamma recommends getting comfortable with the croissant method first, then taking off where the muse leads. Freezing the dough seems to further deepen the flavor development, so if you’re not in a rush, give the dough time in the deep cooler. You’ll need to defrost the dough at least a day in the refrigerator, so work that day into your schedule. Then roll out as usual.

Ellen Christine recommends using leftover croissants for Crostini, which is a delicious idea. Mamma has also broken them up and used them in one of those cheesy overnight casseroles you serve for brunch the next day – magnifique!

Do the Waffle

Jeanne has been feasting her eyes on video she shot at Home Slice Bakery in Dubois, Wyoming. Naturally, this mental holiday has made her a bit peckish, or puckish, twiddling around the idea of how quickly we can get back to the little red farmhouse (shown above) where delicious breads, crackers, cookies and a secret supply of freshly made goat's milk cheese come from.

Since Senor Suave is just a few days from landing on her doorstep, it's important that I ask her this: Where is your waffle iron? With his knowledge of coffee and your iron, I see the potential for true kitchen chemistry. Try this gingery version of an American classic in any region of the country.

Gingery Waffles

1/3 cup brown sugar
1 egg
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup molasses
3 tablespoons butter, melted
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons minced crystallized ginger

Whisk sugar and egg in a medium bowl about 2 minutes. (Whisking will fluffen the egg white to get some of that airiness valuable to a good waffle)

Mix in buttermilk, molasses and butter.

In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, spices, baking soda and salt. Add to the liquid ingredients and whisk to blend. Add in the crystalized ginger.

Preheat your waffle iron and brush with melted butter or zap with cooking spray. Add a few scoops of batter (depending on waffle iron size); I use about 4 gravy ladle scoops. Cook (exact time will vary).

Serve with whipped cream, maple syrup or my favorite way - just tear off a quarter and eat it by hand, freeing up your other hand for another quarter.

Oh My Goo-ness SuperFudge Brownies

Countdown to Gentleman Caller: 4 days.

The batch of test brownies are an extreme success. Just tasted them. Warm and fudgy-gooey. That's the problem with being creative with food. The testing can be problematic for the waistline. Thank goodness for freezers.

In fact, I'm baking up a freezer full of desserts for a friend's wedding next weekend. When desserts are loaded with butter, chocolate, and/or other big flavors, they take well to the freezer because the flavors still pop when thawed. Made and stashed Lemony Glazed Shortbread Bars, a Better Homes and Gardens recipe that uses about 8 lemons. Satisfyingly puckery with that crisp shortbread texture. My go-to favorite when I want to make a big batch of bars to wow a crowd. Lemony Glazed Shortbread Bars Recipe.

And who doesn't love chocolate? So I tripled the chocolate in these brownies. Do not, repeat, do not bake beyond 27 minutes. Insert a toothpick in the center and it will come out covered in melty chocolate. Overbake them and you've got a dryish chocolate brownie that is meh, but not SuperFudgy.

Or try Ruth Reichl's brownies that Mama Mia blogged about recently.

SuperFudge Brownies

(Leave the walnuts out if you're not a fan.)

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter

4 ounces unsweetened chocolate (such as Scharffen Berger, my favorite), broken into chunks

3 tablespoons unsweetened dark cocoa powder

4 eggs

2 1/4 cups sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 cup flour

1 3/4 cups semisweet chocolate chunks (one 11.5-oz. package)

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

1. Grease a 9x13-inch pan. Preheat oven to 350.

2. In a small saucepan, melt butter, chocolate, and cocoa over low heat, stirring occasionally.

3. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and salt until combined. Add chocolate mixture and vanilla; beat until combined. Beat in flour. Stir in semisweet chocolate chunks and walnuts.

4. Pour into pan. Bake for 25 to 27 minutes or until edges start to pull away from sides of pan. (Skip the toothpick test because it will come out covered in chocolate. It's done. Really.)

5. Cool, cut, eat. Makes 24 to 36 to 48 bars, depending on who's cutting. I'm kinda partial to the 24-version size, about 2 inches by 2 inches.

A Thing of Beauty Is a Joy Forever

When I want to dazzle someone, I make croissants. There is something timeless and classic about the carefully baked, soft layers imbued with buttery richness, and you can take them in many directions - savory by adding herbs, sweet by adding chocolate. You can nibble them as they are, with an exquisite side of java, or turn them into sandwiches for eggs, cheeses or smoked meats - even into tiny appetizers.

Homemade croissants taste and feel like nothing you get at the grocery store, which tend to be airy, crackly, and lacking in depth of flavor. The real thing is the real thing, a difference the tastebuds gleefully acknowledge and pass on straight to the soul.

Once you've introduced them to a friend, they'll throw open their doors and slap your back if they know you're coming with a basketful of croissants and a little champagne. That's how I like to visit Ellen Christine Millinery in New York - with croissants, champagne and thirst for one of Ellen's latest hat designs. Imagine trying on hats while seeing yourself in a mirror, a croissant in one hand and a champagne flute in the other. This is the essence of "Live, Live!" as Rosalind Russell exhorted in "Auntie Mame." Life is a banquet, and so on, and so on.

Before you ask me for croissants, know this: I need 3 days. I prefer more time, because the dough develops even more flavor essence if you give it time in the freezer. The French have always known this, and I suspected as much myself when I confirmed it with Joe Ortiz, who has been perfecting the art of baking bread since the 70s, when he and his wife, Gayle, opened Gayle's Bakery in Capitola, California. (http://www.gaylesbakery.com/index.html)

Joe stands alongside Julia Child in the book "Baking With Julia" with his recipe for Pain de Campagne, and this baker, author and musical show thinker-upper is a perennial favorite at the Maui Writers Conference. His own book "The Village Baker" and Gayle's book "The Village Baker's Wife" are both back in print. If you're serious about making bread with patience, enthusiasm and excellence, these are must-haves in your collection. Joe also told me that he has a new musical called "Smoke: A One-Woman Cabaret" running until Oct. 3 up in San Francisco. A guy who is an artisanal bread master and a musical theater lyricist? My instincts say "Check this out!" See the website for more information(http://www.gaylesbakery.com/smoke/index.html).

Next post, I'll give you the croissant recipe from "The Village Baker's Wife," the one I use especially for my friend Ellen, the Hattie Golightly of Manhattan. I added the picture of the lillies here because they look like something Ellen could use on one of her creations. They're beautiful, she's beautiful, croissants are beautiful.

Making croissants is a lengthy process, so you need a day just to digest what I'm telling you here. And yes, I've got some croissant dough chilling in the fridge that's waiting for me, do you mind?

Just Wing It

Your plight with the Gentleman Caller leads me to memory. Have you ever read Isabel Allende's "Aphrodite"? Your guest is a romantic foodie. Why not use this week to read the spell Allende weaves around the bewitching power of the culinary arts?

Explore new flavors, textures, aromas, so you can share them with your Suave Guest - which gives him the entre to share what he knows, too. How's your cheesemaker in town? Olive supplier? Breadmaker? Wine supplier? Can you plan some field trips into the countryside where someone's growing leafy new varieties? Is your state fair going on, or a community festival coming up? We have every festival imaginable in Texas, celebrating black-eyed peas, rattlesnake, jalapenos and chili, to name a few.

Do a keyword search for "food festivals" + "Iowa." Saunter down the road of the unexplored, and share what you find.

Nothing is so tempting as the discovery process.

The Butterfly War

Señor Suavé called yesterday. Hmmmm. This is fun. And interesting. Just got a letter from him too. He does not own a computer, so we're doing this old-fashioned snail-mail thing. Kinda nice. Emails tend to be short and sweet and composed in great haste with little thought. So I am enjoying sitting down and reading how life is in cowboy town. And writing a letter on paper makes me actually pause to think about the words and what messages I am sharing. I think I tend to spill my heart more when creating an honest-to-goodness letter. (I'm sure he's saving them to sell at auction after my Great American Novel is published.)

That said, he's arriving in exactly one week! Staying for 5 nights.

What am I going to do to entertain him? He's a daily mile-high hiker and mountain biker. I live in the flatlands. It's been forever since I've entertained a gentleman for an entire week. Eeek. What was I thinking?

Had margaritas last night with two male friends. We call ourselves the 3-some. They think I'm one of the guys. When we get together we tend to laugh loud and long and snortingly! My cheeks still hurt today.
We were discussing the señor's visit and they were telling me what his expectations are. Wow. Really? Guy-think is so different from girl-think.

I'm feeling the butterflies battling it out in my gut.

Talk me down, coach.

Stewing Over Señor Suavé

Ohmygosh. That lemon pasta sounds incredible. My dilemma: Do I cook pasta for a visiting Italian man I am just getting to know? He makes his own pasta. His own homemade pasta! He's talked about his mother's meatballs and makes my mouth water simply describing his favorite Italian dishes with names that are totally incomprehensible to me.

I'm thinking I should steer clear of Italian on the first visit. Don't you?

So who is this guy? Here's the short version of the story.

This past summer Mama Mia encouraged me to join her at Homeslice Bakery in the tiny cowboy town of Dubois, Wyoming for several days. We worked our buns off as baker's apprentices in between gigs hand-feeding the baby goat, Billy the Kid, (me in top photo, Mama Mia below) and tag-teaming dinner prep. We even helped make goat cheese and goat milk ice cream for the 4th of July celebration. (But that's another story.)

Along comes a friend of the baker: Senor Suavé. He happens to be a guy from Brooklyn. Retired at 55 from teaching high school English in NYC. The Grand Tetons called to him. So he moved West. He is a fly fishing guide. A mountain biker. A hiker.

So when he offered to take us on a wilderness hike I was happy to dust the flour off my clothes and head for the hills. Mama Mia, ever the conscientious one, opted to continue baking while I slacked off.

Señor Suavé rescued me twice from the rigors of kneading zillions of pounds of dough and making dozens on dozens of French rolls and taking the goat family for a walk to greener pastures. And the hiking, despite the 9,000 ft. altitude (I live in the flat heartland of the Midwest, after all) was, well, good. Very very good.

So the Italian New-Yorker-turned-mountain-man is coming to visit.

And here's what I'll fix on his arrival night. It's my go-to dish when I want to wow guests with new flavors. The recipe was created by fellow food editor extraordinaire Stephen Exel when we worked together at Better Homes and Gardens magazine:

Pork and Carrot Stew over Mashed Sweet Potatoes

2 lb. pork or lamb stew meat, cut into 1-inch cubes

1/4 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. pepper

2 Tbsp. cooking oil

2 Tbsp. flour

2 14-oz. cans vegetable or chicken broth

1 12-oz. can apricot or mango nectar

2-inch stick cinnamon or 1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

3 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 tsp. ground cumin

1/2 tsp. ground cardamom

1/8 tsp. thread saffron, crushed

3 medium carrots, cut into 1/2 inch pieces (1 1/2 cups)

1 1/2 cups frozen pearl onions

1 cup dried apricots

1 cup dried pitted plums (prunes)

Mashed Sweet Potatoes

1. Season meat w/ salt and pepper. In a 4-quart Dutch oven brown meat, half at a time, in hot oil over medium-high heat. Drain excess oil. Return meat to pan. Sprinkle meat with flour, stirring to coat. Add broth, nectar, cinnamon, garlic, cumin, cardamom, and saffron; stir to combine. Bring to boiling; reduce heat. Simmer, covered, for 1 hour or until meat is nearly tender.

2. Add carrots, onions, apricots, and plums. Return to boiling; reduce heat. Simmer, covered, about 30 minutes more or until vegetables are tender. Remove stick cinnamon. Serve over mashed sweet potatoes (Peel and cook chunks of sweet potatoes. Mash with butter—or yogurt—until smooth.)

They sure don't look like eggplants.

Stop this madness! Mama Mia! How can you possibly blog so frequently? I have a lotta catching up to do.

Stopped by a friend's garden today and she gave me some eggplant like you've never seen before.

Miniature. Each about 1 to 2 inches.

The round, red ones are Red Ruffled Eggplants (See photo). They are teeny and pumpkin shape. Note the garlic bulb in the photo for size comparison.

The slender, striped numbers have a cute name that I can't recall. Not sure what I'm going to do with them yet, but will keep you posted. They're soooo small.

Wonder what they taste like? Ideas?

Hop Shuffle Step

Tuesdays are dance days for me. My tap teacher is an 85-year-old legend in the jazz and tap dance world; he's taught with all of the greats, including the Broadway choreographers and the ballet divas, and has even done a turn or to with Patsy Swayze, Patrick's mother; Sally Rand, the famous fan dancer; and the unforgettable Tommy Tune. Keeping up with Buster Cooper is no small feat, even at his age, and it reminds me that the Rockettes must get their carbs from a good source to do all their legwork.

A few years ago I had the absolute fun of meeting one of Radio City's shining stars - Cheryl Cutlip - who took me to the Say Cheese sandwich shop in New York for a carb workout. Say Cheese is one of those small, comforty, melty cheesy places everyone needs in their New York repertoire when they're feeling tired, drizzled or chilled. This is where the eye-high kickers go, Cheryl told me, ordering a pesto and chicken sandwich, tomato soup (a must) and the curly fries. I was hooked and have revisited Say Cheese every time I get to New York. You'll find some info here:
http://www.saycheese.cc/

Food and dance definitely go together; the Stork Club has always known this. Inspired by the need to refuel after a great tap class and by the warmth of Say Cheese, I offer a homemade version of the classic pimento cheese sandwich (resembling nothing like the contents of those plastic containers you get in the grocery store).

Pimento Cheese Sandwich

You will need:

1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
1 tablespoon or slightly more of mayo depending on preference
2 tablespoons chopped green onions
1/4 cup diced pimento, drained
1 tablespoon chopped green olives
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/4 teaspoon hot pepper sauce

A few slices of delicious bread such as sourdough
Some butter for spreading on bread

In a medium bowl, mix cheese, mayo, onions, pimento, olives, salt, pepper and pepper sauce. If it looks too dry, add a little more mayo.

Heat a saute pan over medium heat. Spread a slice of bread with butter on one side and place in pan. Top with cheese mixture. Cover with another slice of bread, and spread it with butter.

Cook sandwich on each side until browned and cheese has melted.
Makes about 3 sandwiches

Need to dance off the carbs in this sandwich? Order the Kick Into Fitness video featuring the Rockettes at www.radiocity.com; also available through the Avon Wellness Catalog. I've done it and let me tell you, those Can Can kicks and Roxie Slide will do the trick.

Cheryl Cutlip has a program that's also good to know about, Project Dance, whose mission is to offer dance programs of integrity and to inspire young dancers who come to New York. She produces the fantastic "Broadway Underground" event, and you need to catch it when you're in The City. Find out more about it here:

http://www.projectdance.com/

Long Live the Corn Dog

Jeanne,

Check out the latest issue of Gourmet Magazine online. They've got a recipe for the corn dog - and they mention the Iowa State Fair! The corn dog is king at the State Fair of Texas, which opens Sept. 25 and runs through Oct. 18. Whoopee, we love our Fair. You ask anybody for a word association with the State Fair of Texas and they will say "corn dog." Every year, they try some culinary craziness - this year it's deep-fried butter. As Holly Golightly would say, "the mind reels." They never mess with the corn dog, though, and why would you? To be ever so trite and true, it sells like hotcakes.

Tell us what the Iowa State Fair is known for.

And don't forget to check out the Gourmet recipe, located here along with some nostalgic dishes: http://www.gourmet.com/recipes/2000s/2009/10/corn-dogs

What if we both try the recipe and report any regional differences in results? Bon chance!

Game On

It's football time in Texas, and we take it seriously. Our annual favorite provisions help us feed the frenzy, especially if our teams are twisting, turning, churning, diving for two yards, as a longtime stadium announcer used to say, trying to sound positive. We can't do anything about what's happening on the field, but at the tailgate or in front of the TV, we are the masters. (The pumpkin photo represents my favorite team - the Tennessee Vols and their crazy checkerboard endzone.)

I once had the absolute joy of interviewing longtime NFL commentator John Madden for a story called "The Grill of It All," about his tailgating passion. We got into a heated flurry about smokers. I asked if he knew about the stovetop invention that allows you to smoke cheeses, sausages, vegetables and breads right in your kitchen, and he was adamant that they were worthless. Smoking foods was a longtime commitment, he yowled, lasting at least 24 hours. Who can argue with the man who awards the turkey legs for outstanding play? He wins, so here's what he gets: A good dip recipe for his home turf.

Instant Replay Black-Eyed Peas

1 can Trappey's black-eyed peas with jalapeno (if you can't find Trappey's, have 1 tablespoon of chopped jalapenos on hand, and keep your hands covered when you chop. I use plastic sandwich bags to protect my fingers from pepper burns)

1/4 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup red bell pepper (optional, but adds great color)
1/4 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons picante sauce
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro (optional)
Dipping chips

1. Drain peas, discard the juice.
2. Slightly mash peas with fork, but leave some peas whole.
3. In a medium bowl, add all ingredients except the cilantro and mix with a spoon (don't use blender).
4. Spread mixture into baking dish such as quiche or souffle dish.
5. Heat in microwave about 9 minutes or until bubbly. Or you can heat in oven at 350 for 20 to 30 minutes.
6. Sprinkle cilantro on top.

Serve with favorite chips large enough to scoop the dip. You'll see what I mean by "Instant Replay." You'll revisit this dip again and again.

Makes 2 cups

A Lucky Pasta

Life gives us every opportunity to ponder that classic question, "What's for dinner?" Or lunch, or breakfast, brunch, tea time, the cocktail hour, let's not get caught up in preciseness here, the point is, what do I stir up for a certain special occasion?

Jeanne has a guest coming over from about 8 states away. This is her story to tell, so I won't wander off about his longtime New Yorker background (though he now lives in the West) or his love affair with coffee and Italian food. I'll simply suggest that coming soon, she'll have many chances to whip up something delicious. Jeanne, my tip for you is: Try the Danny's Lemon Pasta.

You'll find it in Ruth Reichl's second book, "Comfort Me With Apples," (Random House, 2001). I mentioned earlier that I'm in a Reichl state of mind, and the reason appears to be as M.F.K. Fisher (another brilliant star in the culinary firmament) described in her work "With Bold Knife and Fork" (Smithmark, 1968) - simply, that recipes that are "Tried and True" are the ones you turn to again and again.

I've tasted my share of succulent mysteries over the years, from "Mountain Oysters" (a misleading sobriquet if there ever was one) to fire ant eggs and maguey worms (and that was at Four Seasons). When you find a recipe what works for you, stick and stay with it. (Any dish that catches fire by itself is automatically ruled out.)

I'm trying hard not to gush here but Reichl has that wonderful sense of the kinds of dishes we're all looking for: good taste, accessible ingredients, easy prep, results that deliver on the promise. We can't all stop what we're doing and waltz into Le Cordon Bleu for a brushup on skills. What I love about Reichl's work is, she knows who we are, and what we love. She knows, and she points us where we need to go.

The Danny's Lemon Pasta is a Reichl derivation based on a dish she enjoyed at actor Danny Kaye's house. Read the book for a great description of that adventure; she always seems to be having them (and how I envy her that). The beauty of this pasta dish? It's not only delectable, it happens fast.

Danny's Lemon Pasta

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 pound fresh egg fettuccine
2 teaspoons finely grated fresh lemon zest
salt
freshly ground black pepper
freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Melt the butter in a deep, heavy 12-inch skillet and stir in the cream and lemon juice. Remove the skillet from the heat and keep it warm and covered.

Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water until al dente, 2 to 3 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking liquid and drain the pasta in a colander. Add the pasta to the skillet with the lemon zest and 2 tablespoons of the pasta cooking liquid and toss well. (Add more pasta cooking liquid 1 tablespoon at a time, if necessary, to thin the sauce.)

Season the pasta with salt and pepper and serve with Parmesan cheese.
Serves 4.

(Reprinted with permission by Ruth Reichl)

Jeanne, consider adding a few chopped kalamata olives, whose flavor plays well with the lemon essence, and a chiffonade of fresh basil to the top of the pasta. Bon chance! I know you'll love this dish.

What Ho, the Beautiful Brownie

A funny thing happened on the way to searching for a copy of Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." No one in our circle of friends or family seemed to have the book. Certainly I didn't inherit one from my mother: Her repertoire consisted of tacos, chipped beef on cornbread, tuna casserole and salmon croquettes. Some nights she just couldn't bear to come up with anything - and served only cinnamon toast and cocoa, which to a kid was an excellent culinary out.

Nothing like French cooking was going on in our Connecticut house. Too bad; we had great access to mussels and clams. Over time I've thought the lack of a good souffle in my life needed rectifying. Like a hound to the scent, I nosed around for Child's cookbook, but the recent joi de interest in the "Julie and Julia" movie seems to have sparked a run in the cookery bookery shelves. If you've ever found yourself lost in the cookbooks section of any bookstore, you know how frustrating it can be to cope, like having your last egg in the cartoon fall to the floor. All the kings horses and that sort of thing, and you're still at an impasse.

There I was, lost in stacks of books when I came across three that grabbed me, all by Ruth Reichl, the former New York Times restaurant critic now with Gourmet Magazine. I'd always been curious about how critics divide and conquer the science of taste in a sauce, a soup or I don't know, a flambe? What are they tasting for? How do they know it's the right taste, because it tastes right? And that means what? Where do they get this knowledge? How do they know what they know?

I picked up Reichl's "Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table," (Random House, 1998). Not only is she a wonderful storyteller, she peels back the layers on how she developed her delicious know-how. And then there are the recipes.

I don't know about you, but when I find a recipe that tastes great and works out the way it should, I stay loyal for life. That is why I have never, never had to resort to a tuna casserole or a salmon croquette.

Straying back to the point, just turn to page 244 in Reichl's book for a beauty of a recipe, "Artpark Brownies."

Brownies are highly regarded in Texas and often on the dessert menus all over Dallas, fangled up with chocolate sauces, cookies or ice cream. Do give Reichl's brownies a go. They're my new favorite, and may I suggest, Jeanne, that you try them on the gentleman caller who's coming to town? Why not make them now and freeze them so you can eat them in anticipation?

Artpark Brownies

2/3 cup butter
5 ounces unsweetened, best-quality French chocolate
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup sifted flour

Preheat oven to 400.
Butter and flour a 9-inch square baking pan.
Melt butter and chocolate in double boiler, over boiling water.
When melted, add vanilla and set aside.
Beat eggs and salt in a mixer. Add sugar and beat at high speed for about 10 minutes, or until the mixture is quite white.
Add chocolate and butter mixture and beat at low speed, just until mixed. Add flour and combine quickly, until there are no white streaks.
Pour batter into baking pan and put in oven. Immediately turn oven down to 350 and bake for 40 minutes. (The normal toothpick test will not work on these brownies but if you want to try pricking them with a toothpick, it should come out not quite clean.) Do not overbake; these brownies should be fudgy.
Makes 12 brownies

(Reprinted with permission by Ruth Reichl)

End of Summer Peach-Blueberry Slab Pie

My pie-baking spurts mimic the seasons. Rhubarb pies and fresh strawberry pies are springtime favorites. Today the focus is on end-of-season peaches from the farmer's market. But my peach pie soon became a combo pie when I discovered —as I was slicing the peaches—that many of them were well past their prime. Most went onto the compost heap. Luckily the freezer was full of blueberries I stashed there after a Costco spree at the height of blueberry season.

So this slab pie, inspired by Grandpa Schulz is Peach-Blueberry. Sometimes just apples. Sometimes apple-rhubarb. Michelle got the idea to toss fresh bing cherries with the peaches when we were playing in the kitchen one day. (She pitted them, so I was happy to oblige! Michelle also lent a hand, or two, to roll the top pastry over the fruit.)

The key is to use a total of 8 cups of fruit.

Peach-Blueberry Slab Pie

3 1/4 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup butter
1 egg yolk
Milk

1/2 cup sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
5 cups sliced peaches
3 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen (if frozen, do not thaw)
1 recipe Vanilla Glaze (below)

1. For pastry, in a large bowl, stir together flour and salt. Use a pastry blender to cut in shortening and butter til mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Lightly beat egg yolk in a glass measuring cup. Add enough milk to the egg yolk to make 3/4 cup total liquid; mix well. Stir egg yolk mixture into flour mixture; mix well. Divide dough into two-thirds and one-third portions.

2. On a floured surface, roll the larger portion of dough into an 18x12-inch rectangle. Transfer carefully into a 15x10x1-inch baking pan (jelly roll pan). Pastry should hang over edges of pan. (I roll pastry around rolling pin and then unroll over baking pan.)

3. Preheat oven to 375 F. For filling, stir together sugar and cornstarch. Add peaches and blueberries. Toss to coat. Spoon into prepared crust.

4. Roll remaining dough into a 16x11-inch rectangle. Place dough over fruit. Bring bottom pastry up and over top pastry. Seal edges with tines of fork. Prick top of pastry surface all over with fork.

5. Bake in preheated oven about 40 to 45 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on rack. Drizzle with Vanilla Glaze.

Vanilla Glaze
In a small bowl stir together 1 1/4 cups sifted powdered sugar, 1/2 tsp. vanilla, and enough milk (5 to 6 tsp) to make of drizzling consistency.

Slab Pie, the History

Thanks for the bread salad recipe. So glad you wrote it down as we tossed it together. Tried to recreate it by memory the other day, and it just wasn't the same. That dash of camaraderie was missing, methinks.

As for slab pie, funny you should ask. Am just about to start making one. I rarely make the same one twice, but you know how that goes. Since it's the tail end of peach season, I bought way too many at the farmer's market the other day and now they're begging to be mingled with blueberries (always have a stash in my freezer).

But first, a little history of slab pie. My grandfather was a baker and one of his specialties was apple slab pie. He did a mean rhubarb slab pie too. Instead of using a pie pan—he had 11 children and even two pies were barely enough to go around. So he rolled out the pastry to slip onto a jelly-roll pan, tossed fresh fruit with sugar, cornstarch or flour, and maybe cinnamon, then piled it on top of the pastry. Then he tucked the fruit in with a top blanket of pastry and baked. When golden brown, it got a drizzle of vanilla icing. The finished wunderbar was a rectangular skinny pie to be eaten out of hand like a brownie. Altho I prefer a plate because of the a la mode factor.

That's the history. The reality is, I'm about to make one now. Fresh peaches and blueberries. Recipe and photo to come, because I still can't figure out how to post photos to this thing.

She can cook, but can she master technology?

Salad Days and a Recipe

Jeanne and I recently met up in the small Western town of Dubois, Wyoming, where we stayed with the town's baker, Jacki Blakeman of Home Slice Artisan Bakery.

I had met Jacki a year ago during a photo workshop (she was the subject) and had accepted her invitation to spend a few weeks with her and work in her bakery, located in a red farmhouse sitting in a quiet meadow. Jacki bakes loaves that preserve the town's Swedish tiehack history - grain breads, sourdough, even a heady Swedish limpa bread. The star of her loaves is Twila's 10-Grain Bread, first developed by her mom when she was town baker.

These days, it seems nearly impossible that anyone can make a living baking bread for a town of about 1,000, but Jacki's been doing it for four years. I wanted Jeanne to come and see Jacki in action, from the morning dough risings to the evening delivery at the lone grocery store, near the Wonder Bread.

While there, Jeanne and I did some cooking for Jacki and naturally, we created something for using up leftover bread. We didn't name the dish but I'll call it "Happy Bread Salad," because when everything's going well in the bakery, Jacki likes to say the bread is "happy today." Enjoy!

Happy Bread Salad

You will need:

good lettuce-style greens, about 3 cups
some leftover bread such as sourdough, about 2 to 3 cups torn up
a handful of olives, sliced or chopped (if using kalamata, remove pits)
a sprinkling of feta cheese
tomatoes, chopped
olive oil
1 clove of garlic, minced
2 green onions, sliced
fresh lemon juice, about half a lemon
fresh ground pepper

1. Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the bread pieces on a baking sheet, drizzle with some olive oil. Toss to coat, then allow to brown in the oven about 8 minutes (Jeanne says no more than 10 minutes).

2. Place bread in a large bowl, add the garlic, the lemon juice, 2-3 tablespoons of more olive oil and toss.

3. Add everything else and toss to combine.

Serve this bread salad as a main dish, paired with the wine you have on hand, why get crazy over the proper pairing when the idea is to just feel relaxed about the meal after a day at the ovens? We ate this dish using chopsticks, just for grins.

Want to know more about Jacki's bakery? You'll find it on the web at: http://www.duboishomeslice.com/index.html#

Jeanne, tell about the Rhubarb Cherry Slab Pie we did at the bakery.

Fear of Frying

Have you ever noticed that sometimes you get an idea, dismiss it, and it won't leave you alone? Lingering like the smell of garlic, it says to you "just think about it. Try it!" And here's the intriguing aspect - if you take a step toward learning more about your idea, something happens physically. You get nervous. Your negative self-talk takes it up a notch. Your heart quickens, your nerves feel zing and twangy. The more you think about your idea, the more the barriers come up and the mind says "nah, not happening."

That's how it feels to me when I consider taking classes at Le Cordon Bleu. The critic in me sez "Don't those chefs look angry and stressed on those TV programs? Why would you want to be around that? Your French is terreebleh. Where's the lettuce to pay for it? You already know how to bake bread, what's the drive to learn brioche?"

I dunno, dunno, dunno, but the idea keeps hitting me like spattering grease. When it feels all wrong, that's the time to pay attention and take one little step that isn't so fearful. So my step was, I applied for more information online. That led to a phone call from someone at the school, but I was not at home when it happened. I carried the phone message with me on a trip to New York, figuring that I would feel more emboldened up there in Big Apple and would call them back from my very busy and important life. And then I went all poulet, poulet, poulet; couldn't do it. Too chicken.

I woke up today and said OK, time for another little step: Just return the phone call. Dial it! Blessedly, I got the voicemail and left a message. Breathe, breathe sweet oxygen.

Unless the website is out of date, Le Cordon Bleu doesn't have a bakery program in Dallas, and that may lead me to other culinary schools. It's a mystery at this point, like whether the boiling sugar will truly reach hard ball stage, but it's worth pursuing with the curious mindset of a journalist. I'll pretend this is all research for a story; then it won't be ABOUT ME but about readers and their interests.

For now, it's enough to tell myself this: The leaps we fear the most are the ones that take us the farthest. This is why I bake souffles and make croissants - to see where they lead. I love it when they turn out right. And after all, the world's greatest gourmands, chefs and restaurant critics had to start just like me, breaking some eggs.

Ruth Reichl, would you like to try my croissants?

Butter Up

John just called out from inside the fridge, "Hey, there's enough butter in here to start a war!"

Think about that: Could you do battle with butter? Grease the skids? Beat your enemy just by filling the air with the smell of homemade croissants - wouldn't that weaken anybody's will? Where did I read about Army bakers during the war, who were envied by the German bakers because the Yanks had better flour?

Anyway, I have all this butter on hand because you need at least 5 sticks for every batch of croissants. Why, you wonder, am I baking croissants when I need to be looking for gainful employment?

Well it's like this: Croissants are the ultimate sensorial wonder, a great comfort food. They smell delicious, taste buttery rich, look marvelous, the dough feels soft to the touch, and if you play the "French Cafe" CD from Whole Foods when you're making them, that's five senses you've whipped up. How many senses are you igniting when you type into a cold, heartless computer screen? Maybe you get two, sight and touch. I'm getting five, FIVE. And the sixth sense is, they make me feel better.

Recently I made up a batch of my herbed croissants to take up to Manhattan for Ellen Christine. Ellen is an amazing hat maker whose products I cannot resist. She admires my bread; I love her hats, it's very simple math. I carried bagfuls of croissants on the plane, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. If you get hungry and don't feel like paying $10 for who knows what from the airline, you've got bread, baby. Beats the Honor Bar system in any hotel room.

Once I got to Chelsea, where Ellen has her shop, I stopped at the corner liquor store for a bottle of bubbly, since Ellen's birthday was also just around the corner. Waltzing into her boutique with croissants, champs and a cheerful heart I thought yes, this is how life is supposed to feel. We toasted. We traded witty repartee - she is a master of the cheeky comment. Then Ellen sold me a darling red patent leather pillbox hat. Maybe I'll wear it to Le Cordon Bleu to check out pastry classes. If Julia could wear pearls, couldn't I wear red on my head?

Hey Jeanne, do you want to know how to make croissants? Got 3 days? It's a work of art kind of process.