"I need a man's potty."

So, we had to potty at the mall today. We often have to potty in public. I hate it when we have to use a public restroom, but it's been this way since I started potty training my oldest son (now 8). This has resulted in my knowing all the best restrooms in our area, and several on popular interstate routes.

I am no longer surprised when the conversation begins. "Mom, I've got to go to the restroom." "Honey, can it wait?" "No, I have to poop." This child has single handedly cured me of my public restroom phobia. Now I just chant to myself the whole time. "This won't kill us. People do this all the time and survive. I can do this." There are many memories of my children's early lives that have seemed to fade over time. That's code for my psyche intentionally blocking them from my mind so I can continue to move forward and love them with that irrational, all-consuming love that drives me to do what I do for them every day. Case and point, how many mothers do you know that recount their birthing stories with horror? Oh, no. They're all neatly coated in fuzzy happiness because all the pain and struggle gets lost in those beautiful, gunky, squished up faces.

These lovely public restroom situations would be among the blocked chunks of time for me. This is due to the fact that they mostly contain me reluctantly entering this dreaded place lugging my infant daughter in a carrier, my autistic son, Jackson, who was horrified by all the sights, sounds and smells, and this little guy whose bowels only seemed to move in public. I did my best to control Jackson's screaming while keeping my oldest from touching anything he did not absolutely have to touch all the while managing the carrier and diaper bag. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. Things are easier now. Jackson can handle it. My daughter is older and potty training, too. It is generally not a struggle anymore.

...What a glorious day it will be when ALL of my children are out of diapers and pull-ups and asking to go potty in the most inconvenient places....

This time, I made them go into the family restroom so they could all go together and I could be with them. I know it's a little paranoid, but germs and crazy people are everywhere, Y'all. Besides, the men's room was all the way down a hall and opposite the lady's room. There's no way I'm sending my two boys in there without me. This was super embarrassing for my 8 year old who thinks he's big enough to do everything on his own. Upon opening the door we saw a changing table, one small potty, one large potty, one small sink and one large sink. My 3 year old daughter, who can find excitement in the drying of paint, details what she sees out loud with great delight. Jackson goes straight for the little potty, and has his pants down before I can shut the door. Realizing it was too small for him. he then exclaims loud enough for the whole mall to hear (the door is still open, darn hydraulic hinges), "I need a man's potty," and moves to the larger toilet beside him. Meanwhile, I get the door shut and locked and my daughter decides to go all by herself. Her hands are all over the tiny little commode. I see the concentration face and begin to panic. "Not here." I keep repeating to myself. "This won't kill us. I CAN do this. I'll just make sure she washes her hands really good." My 8 year old suddenly decides he doesn't have to poop after all. Besides, it is super embarrassing to go INTO the bathroom with your mom and little sister. Bored with the whole thing, he decides to put his brother in a head lock while he's washing his hands. Water and screaming all around. They are now tussling and I start panicking that they might end up on the floor.

What happens if mom has a public meltdown due to sensory overload? Hopefully, I'll never know. Someone tries to open the door. I'm trying to break up the fight. My daughter shouts, "coming!" And tries to open the door with her pants still down (the concentration face was a false alarm, thank goodness). I start scrambling to figure out how I would explain the scene to a local DFACS officer, while having flashbacks of earlier times. I begin to remember why I rarely left the house for a huge chunk of Jackson's early years.

Mustering up my quick-as-lightening mom reflexes, I stopped my daughter from opening the door, broke up the fight, and got us out of there mostly dry and clean. Emerging victorious and feeling like super mom, we then move on to the carousel as if everything about what just occurred in that tiny little room was completely normal.

I then laugh to myself when the thought of blogging this came to my mind. This desire, to not only record this memory before my brain can force it into the section of my brain I never use but to share it with the world, is quite strange, maybe even insane. But, the best part, the pies de resistance, came later.

We have a bedtime tradition of asking the kids to share their favorite part of the day. I think it started as an attempt to cause them to think about something they could be thankful for every day, but it has morphed into a one-up tournament, most nights anyway. Tonight, though, when I asked my daughter what her favorite part of the day was, she exclaimed with great delight, "going to the bathroom at the mall."

So, on those days when you feel like they should post a sign outside your house that says looney bin, maybe you can think of this post and remember, normal is just a setting on the dryer.

The End Is Near

The end has come....for the 2012 election, that is. It's over, finally. No more ads or political telemarketing. No more celebrities jumping on one band wagon or another. For this I am very thankful. However, the end of the election has sparked the beginning of something else, doom.

There is nothing like the election or re-election of a liberal President to bring out the doomsday prophets. My Facebook news feed was immediately filled with all kinds of angry and fearful posts about how this is the end of the US and probably the world. Well, some of those posts were from friends up in Sandy's path, and for them, it probably really did look like the end of the world. I had one friend posting about how eerie it was to see New York City dark and how she was fully expecting to see zombies come out of the deserted buildings and try to eat her. Maybe she watches too many horror films, but I digress.

The depression and disillusionment of so many Americans, particularly conservative Christians, was palpable in the days following the election, and is still very tangible even now. I live in the conservative South, and it felt like it was almost in the air or the water or something. The sadness seemed to fuel the theories. I've heard all kinds from Obama is the anti-christ to Obama is working with Al Qaeda to destroy us from within. I didn't see the movie 2016, but I've heard all about it, more so after the election than before. There's talk of demonic activity in our government, the old Illuminati conspiracy theories, and more practically, the inevitable collapse of our economy. Now, I'm not going to tell you who I voted for, or where I tend to lean on some of these theories, but I will say that I feel very strongly that in the eternal scope of things, for those of us who believe in God and Jesus, it isn't the end of the world, even if it is the end of this world.

Even if the last days, prophesied for thousands of years, are actually upon us.... even if we are facing the possible revoking of our right to worship God as we see fit.... even if things do progress to something similar to the days of Nero when Christian men, women and children were fed to Lions for the entertainment of the 'civilized' Roman people.... even if we do find ourselves in another depression that creates a national famine.... none of this changes who we are and what we've been called to do.

"But now thus says the LORD, he who created you....He who formed you.... "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27

"O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Micah 6:8

I particularly like Micah 6:8. It's so simple. Yes, we should seek justice in our homes, our churches and our government, but true justice will not come to this Earth by any human hand. And, I'm very thankful I will not receive justice but mercy from that Hand. I want to extend the mercy and kindness I was given by my God to those around me. If the times do get dark, how much brighter the Light will shine.

We are not called to fear the times in which we live, but to trust the God who put us here. Take heart in the stories of those who have come before us, those who suffered and must have believed the end of this world was upon them, too. I often look at the life I've been given and wonder to myself, why me, why now? Why wasn't I born into a time when living out my beliefs meant being burned at the steak or stoned to death? Why wasn't I born in a time of great revival and church growth? I don't know if I'll get the answer to that question in this life, but I know that if I can't trust the God who put me here, then I can't trust anything. Even if my idea of the perfect president is elected and everything is going the way I think it should, if my God is not in control, then I have nothing.

Now, Lord willing, I intend to enjoy the Holiday season, plan my next trip to Disney, train for a half-marathon, help my children grow and develop into healthy, happy adults. I intend to see them go to college, get married and have children of their own. I intend to enjoy the life I've been given by loving my God and the people He has placed in my life, by walking humbly with Him and offering kindness and mercy to everyone I can. All the rest, the details, the things that are out of my control, all that is up to Him, and I trust Him completely.

So, Happy Thanksgiving! Let's ditch the doom and gloom and be thankful for our God, our Country, our families, and our lives. Let's thank God for the food we will spread out on our dining room tables, for the souls that will gather to eat it with us whether connected by blood or another bond, and for each breath He allows us to take. For those who know Him, there will never be an end. The feast will continue with Him for eternity. Thank you, thank you, Jesus.

A Fire and a Bath

This started as a Facebook status update and morphed into something that little box couldn't handle. I wanted to ask how often my friends get jealous of their kids, but I just kept typing. I knew that sometimes things just start falling out of my mouth, emotions and thoughts and ideas. I guess my fingers do the same thing.

As I was drawing my daughter's bath tonight, running my hand under the warm water waiting for the numbers to hit the right spot on her little frog water temperature toy, I sighed thinking how wonderful it would be to take a long, hot bath with candles and music and bubbles. Oh, but then who would prepare my oldest son's costume for Egyptian market day and make lunches and finish homework (we spent our morning finishing a project for my husband) and pack back packs and lay clothes out and work on more things for the big event coming up. I sighed again. At the moment, she was whining and fussing. She didn't get a nap today, and I was running late for bedtime as usual. She cried my name over and over, not the one my mother gave me, but the one I share with millions of other women struggling through the same divinely given job, Mom. I started to get agitated and sad and more sighs came out as I undressed her and put her in the tub. Then, she started to play. There's an old saying, something about when your kids get cranky put them in water. I thought about that. Than I turned on the fire (have I told you I have an enclosed gas fireplace in my bathroom, I know, heavenly) and warmed myself as I took in her sweet-mess, I mean sweetness.

I was still READY for bedtime, and I would still like to take a long hot bath. However, I was kinda proud of myself for taking in the moment and not adding to my list of whining (see previous post) the fact that the only ones who really get to enjoy my giant jetted tub are my kids.

Now off to the rest of my busy night.

The Plan

I'm one of those people that likes a plan, wants a plan, NEEDS a plan, but I won't actually follow the plan once I make it because I need to feel free and flexible, too. I know, total craziness, but it's me. I would love to figure out a way to embrace and love this contradiction in my psyche, but all it really does is frustrate me. Add this trait to my inability to function when things get overwhelming, and you have a winning personality combination for sure.

Lately, I feel like I'm stuck in a downward spiral on my life's roller coaster. Wait, the downward spirals are the fun part, maybe this would be one of those long slow clicking up hill climbs. Anyway, we're busy. VERY busy. I haven't blogged in forever (too lazy right now to go look up the date of my last post). Actually, I haven't written anything. My journal is empty for the entire months of August and September, even though there have been so many post worthy events and moments and thoughts in our lives lately, like our first trip to Disney World and Jackson's first trip to the principal's office at school. The papers in my office are taking over my home, spilling over into every other room in my down stairs. The piles taunt me in my dreams. I've awoken in a cold sweat after dreaming that I had been buried alive in mail and bills and school flyers and receipts. I could hear my family calling my name, but couldn't speak or scream or anything. (Don't you hate those dreams? And, obviously, it was scream worthy. I mean, being buried in paper, that's quality horror flick stuff right there.) I haven't cooked a REAL quality meal for my family in over a week, and before that, it was probably another week of take-out or sandwiches. My poor little Jackson has been eating cereal bars and bananas for snack at school because I haven't been able to bake him all his favorite healthy corn free things. Breakfast has been cereal for more than a month straight. I think somewhere in there I woke up and made pancakes and bacon, but I'm not sure if that actually happened or if it was a dream I had between shutting off my alarm and waking abruptly as I realize the sun is coming up and we should already be in the car. I've touched the keys on my piano once in months (not sure how many). I haven't read anything in the stack of books on my bedside table. I haven't run or worked out in more than a week. I'm eating junk because I haven't cooked anything real and Whole Foods hasn't decided to comply with my urgings to open a store closer than 45 minutes away from my house. This makes me feel gross and fat and sluggish. Of course, the dishes and laundry are piled up (they're always piled up). My living room walls still bear the marks of my budding little artist, the patches from the holes the previous owners left, and they're still WHITE after more than a year living in this house. The TV is in front of my fireplace because my husband won't mount it until we've painted those bare scribbled white walls. So, on the first beautiful crisp Fall morning of the season, I couldn't light a fire and warm myself sipping hot cocoa with my fellow heated chocolate fanatic (that would be my 8 year old son). I love Fall and hot cocoa and warm fires. Can you hear me sighing? My kitchen is still unfinished, exposed piping behind my cook top, a huge gap between the counter and the back splash and a hole in the cabinet where a drawer should be. My head hurts at the thought of going through my kids' closets to put away or give away summer clothes and pull out their winter clothes before things get too cold. They might be wearing shorts and t-shirts all winter. Our vacation put us behind on my homeschooled child's assignments, and catching up has meant still doing school up to dinner time. I got a new car, and I love it. However, I'm starting to hate all the driving and sitting in car pool lines. We're talking about 2 hours three times a week, and 5 hours on Tuesdays and Fridays. Driving and sitting. Ugh. I could probably continue my little description indefinitely. It feels so good to be typing it all out, but geez, look at that paragraph. Huh? I've whined long enough. Basically I'm tired. I'm spent completely, and my living, breathing, growing to-do list makes me want to crumple to the fetal position and rock franticly chanting for it all to disappear.

I was thinking while I was delivering a last minute project to my husband's office this morning, and by last minute I mean, he told me about it this morning before he left for work, and it took my ENTIRE morning to pull it together further delaying any absolution to anything in the above list. Anyway, I was thinking. How did I get here? And, how in the sam hill (not sure I've ever understood that expression) do I get out, back to a place where I don't long to go hide in my bed with the covers pulled tightly over my head?

I almost cringe at the thought of typing this out, but it's all in the plan. I'm not actually talking about my human planning skills. Although, I think they would help tremendously right now, that is, if I had time to plan and organize and be OCD like I want. I'm talking about THE plan. The one written for me before I even knew what a plan was. How many times do I have to be reminded that life isn't a giant to-do list? It's about relationships and memories. Life was meant to be lived not survived. Oh, but in the recesses of my overstressed mind, I deeply desire to cross off that whole dreary paragraph, as if that is the only thing standing between me and the freedom to truly live. Truth is, I'm the one standing in my way.

Deep breath. Happy thoughts....thoughts of my children and the fact that I have a family to be busied with, my Savior who doesn't care how high the dishes and laundry pile up, who's always there when I need to cry my heart out and who has the ability to multiply my time and spark me to life when I have absolutely NO energy to keep going.

Peace won't come from conquering my mountain of responsibilities. I can't guilt my way into it, nor can I force or squeeze it out of some hurried activity. Peace, the real kind, the thing I so desperately need right now, can only come from the Author of it. It will only come as I surrender my plan, or lack thereof, to His plan, THE plan. And, in that accept the fact that His plan for me may not look like a Norman Rockwell painting, and that's OK. Help me, Jesus.

Pumpkin Spice Whole Wheat Pop Tarts

I've made pop tarts at home before. I used store made crust and unsweetened jam. As long as I iced it with something, my kids were all over it, and I felt better about it being less processed with fewer questionable ingredients, not to mention the fact that my little guy with the allergies could have them. However, I'm trying to add more whole grain to the mix these days, and with my 5lb bag of whole wheat pastry flour, I decided to try my hand at whole grain pie crust. Right there on the bag of Bob's Red Mill Whole Wheat Pastry Flour is a recipe for whole wheat pie crust. Only I didn't follow the directions exactly (you know me). I incorporated the chilled butter and ice water into the flour using my food processor, and I chilled it a little longer before rolling it out on my granite counters. I've heard that temperature (i.e. COLD) is as much a secret to good pie crusts as any ingredient. Since I'm not an expert, I'll just take their word for it.

Here's the recipe.

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) organic unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
5-8 Tbsp ice water

Sift flour and salt into a large mixing bowl. (It IS important that you sift the flour.) Cut butter into 12 pieces and rub into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles a course meal with some pea-size pieces. (This is where I used my food processor, and I also cut my butter cubes much smaller, like 1/4 inch cubes). Sprinkle water over the mixture, one tablespoon at a time and knead lightly just until a dough forms. Form dough into a ball. Cut in half and press each into a disc shape. Wrap each disc in waxed paper or plastic wrap (I used wax paper and formed the 'disc' into a square so when I rolled it out for my rectangular shaped pastries, there would be less waste) and refrigerate for 30 minutes before rolling. (I chilled them for longer, about 45 minutes to an hour, I can never tell when I'm chasing kids.) Yield: 2-9" single pie crusts or 1-9" double pie crust (or 6 3x5 inch homemade pop tarts). Crust will bake alone with the filling for the pie or pre-bake at 375° F for 25-30 minutes. (We'll get to the oven temp and duration in a minute.)

Note: Now, I know this recipe calls for a lot of butter, but it's kind of a 'choose your poison' kind of thing for me. If you take both the fat AND the sugar out of a pop tart, you are left with cardboard. That's just all there is to it. Besides I agree with Michael Pollan that natural fats are not all bad. Our brains are made up of mostly fat, and our neurons are coated in the stuff. I have super active skinny kids. A little extra butter here and there, is not a problem in my book. Back to the recipe....

Now for the filling. I thought about using my breakfast roll filling which is essentially unsweetened apple butter, but I was feeling a little over all this Summer heat and thought something 'Fallish' would be good. So, I decided to use pumpkin for the filling.

1 15oz can pumpkin (not the pie filling, just the pumpkin)
1/2 cup honey
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger

In a medium bowl, mix all ingredients until well incorporated.

Here's the fun part. Assembling the pop tarts. I took pictures, but it was dark and as awesome as the lighting in my kitchen is, I couldn't get a good shot. So, you're just going to have to use your imagination.

Before you roll out the dough, heat your oven to 375 degrees F.

Generously flour your work surface. I used my granite counter because the stone is nice and cold, but you could use a cutting board or kitchen table. You will need a fairly large area to work, and don't skimp on the dusting flour. You don't want your pastries to stick and fall apart before you can get them in the oven. Roll the 'discs' into large squares about 1/8 to 1/16 inch thick. I have this handy little toaster pastry press from Williams-Sonoma (LOVE that place) that my mother-in-law gave me a while back, and it's just awesome for this. However, I did just fine with a knife and my fingers before. So, you can decide if you want to cut your pastries out first and then press them closed or if you're good at uniformity and proportioning, dollop your filling on one sheet and lay the other one on top before you cut and press. I cut them out first. Scooped a heaping teaspoon of pumpkin filling onto the bottom layer, covered each pastry and then pressed the sides together.

Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil or one of those cool reusable baking liners (I don't have one yet). Lay each pastry on the sheet with a little breathing room. Don't panic if they're a little tight, they shouldn't spread. Bake for about 20-30 minutes, or until golden brown on the edges. Lay out on a wire rack to cool (I don't have one of those either. I just lift them by the aluminum foil and lay them straight on my granite counter). They'll be fine if they cool in the pan on the range.

Now for the icing. I got this off the Bob's Red Mill package, too. It was just easier than pulling out my go-to cream cheese icing recipe and down sizing it for this project. This one seemed small enough to use for this, and I'm actually confused as to how the proportions of this recipe could possibly cover the carrot cake in the recipe right above it....moving on. I did not use Margarine like the recipe called for, yuck! And, I warmed the butter and cream cheese until nearly melted before I added the sugar.

3 Tbsp cream cheese, softened
3 Tbsp Margarine, softened (I used organic butter)
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 to 1/3 cup powdered sugar (I use Whole Foods brand organic powdered sugar because they don't use corn starch as their anti-caking agent)

Using a wooden spoon (or a whisk like I did), whip the cream cheese, margarine (yuck, I used butter) and vanilla until smooth. Sift in powdered sugar (it IS important that you sift the sugar, especially if you are using a brand that uses a different anti-caking agent, the lumps are hard and plenteous, and they make for a lumpy ugly frosting), 1 Tablespoon at a time, and stir until a creamy smooth frosting is achieved. (Again, I melted the butter and cream cheese to make it more like cookie icing.)

After the pastries have completely cooled, spread the icing over the top. Allow the icing to set. It won't completely harden like if you were using a high sugar icing, but it does firm up after it cools. And, enjoy! I'm telling you these things were so good, I almost didn't want to share them with my kids, and they were the whole reason I was attempting this recipe.

So, there you go. A much healthier, tastier option for that American breakfast staple.

Staring at the Barn Gate

I grew up with animals. Some of my fondest and most vivid childhood memories are of my horses, sheep, dogs, cats, chickens, geese, ducks and whatever poor struggling animal I felt the need to rescue, the uglier and more helpless the better. If it needed me (and even if its need was all in my head), I had to take care of it. I rescued baby birds from my cats and fed them to death. Who knew you aren't supposed to feed them every time they chirp? I rescued other things from my cats, too, things like lizards and frogs. I also thought it would be cool to see if I could get baby frogs by keeping them in a bucket with a little terrarium for them to lay their eggs. Who knew frogs are cannibalistic? I used to come back and wonder how in the world one or more of them got out of my enclosure without any sign of escape, and it took me a very long time to figure out that the fat happy frog that didn't seem to want to escape was eating the others. I learned a lot about animals and how the natural world works in my simple happy childhood. There were plenty of life lessons learned from observing God's amazing creation up close (like how you should leave frog mating up to the Big Guy) and from connecting the dots between scriptural comparisons of sheep and God's people. Sometimes, the comparison was encouraging, other times embarrassing, and I'm finding myself thinking about one of those traits I noticed so long ago.

I'm not exactly sure how sheep are supposed to survive in the wild. I don't know that there are really any 'wild' sheep anywhere. I might have to look that up. Generally though, when you think about sheep you assume there is a shepherd leading and protecting them. So, being good shepherds, during the cold months when nothing much was growing, we kept our sheep close to the barn or enclosure and fed them grain and hay. They would spend their days snuggled up together and enjoying the trough side service. Every Spring, when we would open the gate to let them out to roam and enjoy natures fresh salad bar, it would always take them a little while to get through that gate. They would often stand there and stare at it. I have no idea what or IF sheep think, but I used to imagine their minds wandering. "Can we go? Should we go? Is it safe to leave the trough? What if we can't get back? Is it a trick? Is she going to be waiting on the other side to catch us and shear us, or worse, de-worm us? Is it a mirage?" Now, sometimes all it took was me catching one and leading them out. Sometimes I wanted to just wait and see if they would trust me. Other times I didn't have any patience and I chased them out. (I know children can be cruel.) It happened the same every year. Stare at the gate until one brave sheep broke from the group and ventured through. Then it was all you can eat until Fall settled in again. The reverse would happen as well. Once all the green had faded to brown and the trees were bare, they would still wait by the gate like we were cruel to keep them shut in. It always took them a while to settle back into the changes each season brought.

I've looked forward to all three of my children being in school on two days every week this entire Summer. I have ALL kinds of plans and visions of a spotless house and finally finished projects. So what did I do with my first day of freedom? Besides having Starbucks with a friend and running a few errands, nothing much at all. I spent the rest of the day almost paralyzed with indecision. I just couldn't get anything done. It was like I was staring at that barn gate and the freedom beyond but not quite sure how to get through it. "Can I do this? Should I do this? Is it safe? Will my kids be ok? Is it a trick? Will I start too many things and be in a bigger mess than before? What if it's all an illusion?" Crazy, huh? I'm thinking I will eventually figure it out. Well, when my daughter's immune system gets up and fighting, that is. She's been sick the last two school days. I want so much to get all the tough stuff done on those days when I'm alone. It's crazy how much you can get done when you don't have a three year old under your feet ALL day. My vision is to have all the busy work done those days so that I can actually enjoy the days and evenings when they're home with me again. It's been so long since I've been able to sit back and marvel at the beautiful people they're becoming. My mind is so preoccupied with all I've NOT done or am NOT doing. I'm in constant survival and failure mode lately, and I'm hoping to use this new freedom to accomplish those things so my mind can rest and my hands are free to play. We'll see. Right now, I'm still staring at that barn gate. Maybe the next school day, I'll be ready to feast on all this new season has to offer. Then again, maybe I'll just sleep.

Dutch Oven Bread

Do any of you remember that artisan bread article that got passed around a while back (like 2007), the one about baking bread in your dutch oven? It was a New York Times article originally, before it went viral. Well, that was before I was interested in baking any kind of bread much less something in my dutch oven, but a few months ago, my mother gave me a black and white photo copy of the article from The Mother Earth News Guide To Fresh Food All Year. It seemed interesting, but I wasn't quite ready to tackle it then. Well, I decided recently it was time to try it.

Easy, No Knead Crusty Bread

1/4 tsp active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups warm water
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting.
You may use white, whole wheat or a combination of the two. [I used whole wheat pastry flour.]
1 1/2 tsp salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran for dusting [I just used my flour.]

1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in water. Add the flour and salt, stirring until blended. The dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let the dough rest at least 8 hours, preferably 12 to 18, at warm room temperature about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. The dough is ready when it's surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it. Sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let it rest for about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to the work surface or to your fingers, gently shape it into a ball. Generously coat a clean dish towel with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal. Put the seam side of the dough down on the towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another towel and let rise for about 1 to 2 hours. When it's ready, the dough will have doubled in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least 20 minutes before dough is ready, heat oven to 475 degrees. Put a 6 to 8 quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in the oven as it heats. When the dough is ready, carefully remove the pot from the oven and lift off the lid. Slide your hand under the towel and turn the dough over into the pot, seam side up. The dough will lose its shape a bit in the process, but that's OK. Give the pan a firm shake or two to help distribute the dough evenly, but don't worry if it's not perfect; it will straighten out as it bakes.

5. Cover and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the lid and bake another 15-20 minutes, until the loaf is beautifully browned. Remove the bread form the Dutch oven and let it cool on a rack for at least 1 hour before slicing.

Yield: One 1 1/2 pound loaf.
Adapted from The New York Times


I was skeptical of the recipe, and leery of cooking bread in my dutch oven. However, I'm skeptical no longer. It had a hard crunchy crust and a super soft texture. The flavor was plain, but when the recipe only calls for yeast, water, flour and salt, plain is how it turns out. And, plain isn't always a bad thing.

I think next time I'll experiment with herbs and flavorings, but this is perfect to go with soup or chili (especially since corn bread doesn't work for my allergic little guy). Or, honestly, it's great spread with some butter and enjoyed on its own.

I linked to the Mother Earth article above, but here's the link again. It's very interesting, and contains more info about how this method works.