This week’s issue is pretty no-fuss, since the world continues to be a raging dumpster fire: it should take you all of 5 minutes to read. What are you eating right now? What are you excited to eat this summer? Tell me. (Seriously. Always looking for inspo. And an escape. Just smash that Reply button.) xo.
Reader Q.
Question: “Any chance you use that sourdough starter to make sourdough bread? What’s your formula?” - S.E., Washington, DC
Answer: I do! I won’t subject you all to a formal recipe for it, here, because complete instructions for breadmaking are long and tedious - an entire issue unto itself - and I think most people would skip right over it. (If you do want a formal recipe, a Google search for “sourdough bread recipe” or “pain au levain recipe” will land you plenty of solid returns - many with videos that are helpful for the folding/kneading process.) For those who are already bread bakers, however, with a healthy starter and a little know-how, here you go:
400g bread flour (I use King Arthur’s organic)
100g whole wheat flour
10g pink salt
20g organic turbinado sugar
250-300g sourdough starter
about 400g of 110F water (I always aim for a 75-80% hydration dough, but the amount of water needed depends on the state of my starter, about which I am very lazy and imprecise.)
After the dough comes together, I do a 12hr bulk ferment at room temp, a 1-1.5hr proof after shaping, score, and then pop it into a cold Dutch oven and bake at 450F for about 50 minutes, until the center hits 195F.
Also, a note for anyone who decided to maintain a starter after the Waffles issue, or who is still debating it: depending upon your climate, the bugs in your starter can take anywhere from 4-14 days to really get going, so don’t give up if you’re initially a little disappointed or discouraged. What’s more, it can take a really long time for it to produce truly sour bread - mine, which was started during cold months, took between 4 and 4.5 months to get there. Keep the faith.
Links.
🗓 This pandemic food timeline was fun, in a “we laugh so that we don’t cry” sort of way.
🌮 Thoroughly enjoyed G. Daniela Galarza’s history of the taco emoji in a recent edition of the EV newsletter.
🥔 I loved that the inspiration for this dish was panzanella, with crispy gnocchi standing in for the chewy crunch of grilled bread. It reminded me of this, which blogger Julia Tausch developed for Fifth Season (and which I was lucky enough to test prior to publication): gnocchi gets crisped on a sheet pan in a hot oven alongside shaved cabbage and onions, served with a sauce reminiscent of sour cream; here, the gnocchi are like treated like pierogi, but simplified. Two refreshing preparations for what is a reliable - but sometimes rote - pantry and freezer staple.
Sheri’s Potatoes.
Serves 4-8, depending upon the people and the spread.
Sheri was my mom, a curious character who loved gardening very much and cooking even more: three of her four children became chefs, and none of us wonder where we got it. The world lost her a few years ago, and she took some of her best recipes with her - but I am fortunate to have this one, and feel silly for not contributing it to the culinary dialogue of the universe sooner. It’s a good one. It deserves a spot on the shelf.
I grew up calling this “smashed potatoes,” but they’re nothing like what that term often describes, these days. They’re creamy but chunky, buttery but bright, a summery answer to wintertime’s gravy and mash. You can make them any time, for sure, but they’re a welcome accompaniment to all things bearing grill marks.
This recipe makes a lot, but feel free to halve it. If you’re going to the trouble, however, you might as well make a full batch of the compound butter: the extras will refrigerate for up to a week and freeze indefinitely, and you could use it on grilled bread or vegetables, some steamed fish or rice, or your next batch of Sheri’s Ps.
I leave the skins on because I love the texture and because peeling is a bitch, but you do you.
Ingredients
3 lbs of waxy potatoes: redskins or Yukons or the tiny white new potatoes cropping up in farmers’ markets right about now
3-4 large cloves of garlic, peeled & fibrous root end nipped off
6T grassfed butter (if you use a whole stick, I won’t judge you)
2 teaspoons of fine-grained salt, like pink Himalayan or sea salt
1 large bunch of scallions, roots and dry ends trimmed, divided (if the bunches feel small, use two)
a couple grinds of black pepper
1-2 tablespoons of minced fresh chives (optional)
Instructions
Scrub the potatoes (and peel, if you must), and cut them into chunks no larger than 1”. Transfer them to a large pot with a generous sprinkling of salt, add the cloves of garlic and enough water to cover the potatoes by 4-5”, and place over medium-high heat. Boil until the potatoes are fork tender.
While the potatoes boil, place your butter and salt in a large (non-plastic) serving bowl and place this over the potato pot to melt the butter, in good old double-boiler fashion (you can absolutely do this in a saucepan over low heat, or in a safe container in the microwave; this method just saves you an extra dish to wash, and as a bonus, it nicely warms your serving bowl).
Separate the bunch of scallions into thirds (no need for precision, here). Very thinly slice one third and set aside for later. Roughly chop the remaining two thirds into 1” lengths. Don’t neglect the white parts. Add these 1” pieces to the jar of a small food processor or a blender.
When the potatoes are done, reserve 1 cup of the hot, salty-starchy water (you won’t use it all; no need to be precise) and then drain potatoes. Carefully fish out the softened cloves of garlic; add those to the blender. Leave the potatoes to steam dry while you process the butter.
Add the warm melted butter and 1 tablespoon of cooking water to the blender along with the chopped scallions and garlic. Puree until smooth. This should have a light, saucy consistency, like a thin batter - if it’s too thick, add more water while pureeing, one scant tablespoon at a time, until you’re happy.
Transfer the hot potatoes to the warm, buttery bowl. Sprinkle with the reserved scallions and the chives, and then drizzle over the butter sauce. Now: use your muscles. Fold and stir the potatoes very well: the goal here is to break up the chunks a bit and emulsify the butter and soft potato into a rich, glossy slurry. It’ll take a few minutes. Taste and season as you go: add a few grinds of pepper and more salt as needed. Eat immediately. Tell your kids they’re called Hulk Potatoes, or Tinkerbelle Potatoes. Whatever gets the job done. Enjoy. xo.
Butterpat.
A little something extra.
Whether you’re berry-picking yourself a few pails-full at a local farm, delighting in the expanding offerings of the farmers’ markets, or just glad that the produce in the grocery stores isn’t quite so shitty as it is in January, you are probably - like me - living in I Have Too Much Fruit season. Whatever you have - strawberries, blueberries, the fruitiest not-fruit rhubarb, the earliest of early peaches or cherries - whip up a batch of this dough. It makes enough for two galettes, so you can enjoy one now - with any fruit you need to dispatch; no need to wait for apple season! - and save the other ball of dough for your next moldering-fruit emergency. Trust this: being less than an hour away from a summery fruit galette at all times is not a bad place to be.