My brother and his wife live in an Amish community, and have largely adopted a lifestyle of voluntary simplicity. Not long ago both parents and several older siblings were called away from the farm for the day, and their youngest son was left in the care of his elder brother. Four-year-old M. was his big brother’s right hand man for a few hours, but eventually he lost interest in the shop work and wandered back up to the house where he decided to make bread. He tried to call his sisters for some advice, but finding their cell phones out of range, he launched in on his own. He had watched the process many times, and was sure he could do it by himself.

Sometime during the afternoon my brother was able to telephone from the road to see how things were going. Here is his retelling of story.

All alone in a quiet kitchen, M. had put half a quart of warm water in a bowl, added sugar for extra sweetness (because he meant to make cinnamon rolls), and molasses, and let the yeast start working while he ground whole wheat flour in the mill.

Apparently all went successfully until he moved the container of flour to the work table to add to the dough, whereupon it fell off the edge of the table and spilled all over the floor.

No problem.

He proceeded to pick it up and put it back in the container, then stirred it into the bread, adding salt. Soon he was kneading.

My main concern was how much yeast he had used, and I asked him, “How did you measure the yeast?”

“With the bag,” he said.

“The whole bag?”

“No way!”

“Did you just guess the amount?” I prodded.

“Yep.”

And so for the rest of the one hour drive we had an animated conversation about just what we might find when we got back to the farm kitchen.

When we arrived the dough had risen, and M. was in the process of rolling it out to layer on the cinnamon, raisins and dried cranberries. Curious, I tasted a little dough — and, lo and behold, it tasted perfectly normal. Big sister helped him divide the logs of dough, and he filled two pans.

Soon the aroma of sweet rolls was wafting out of the oven.

As he cut the rolls apart the next morning, he expressed some dissatisfaction with the unevenness of the product in the pans. Nevertheless, his ambition was fully met as the rare treat was served at the breakfast table, and the family enjoyed the best cinnamon rolls ever baked!

Isn’t it amazing what a young child can learn from attentiveness, then accomplish given the opportunity!

I put this vegan pudding together out of thin air this evening, though it definitely harkens to Thai “sticky rice” dishes I’ve eaten at restaurants in more recent times. It is just sweet enough with the rice syrup and fruit; creamy and delicious.

Coconut Rice Pudding

1 cup Carnaroli Rice (or other arborio rice)
2 cups spring water
1/4 cup rice syrup

1 can (14 oz) Thai Kitchen Lite Coconut Milk
6 fresh, sticky dates, cut into small bits
1 cup fresh pineapple, chopped into small chunks
additional rice syrup to taste
1/2 tsp cardamom
pinch cloves

Bring water to a boil in a heavy bottomed pot. Add rice (unwashed) and rice syrup. Reduce heat to low; cover, and simmer for 20 minutes.

While the rice is cooking, prepare the pineapple and dates.

Add coconut milk to cooked rice. Stir gently until you have a smooth, even consistency. Add remaining ingredients. Return to stove until warm through and starting to bubble.

Spoon into dessert dishes. Garnish with pistachios. Pudding will thicken as it cools.

Note: Thai Kitchen brand coconut milk is the only kind I’ve found that doesn’t have preservatives.

One of my favorite recipes in the old red checked recipe book is this one for a hearty, hot drink. I well remember the day when little 8-year-old Marta came to the door and handed me the recipe as a gift. It was written in pencil on two bits of notebook paper, whip-stitched through the holes to bind them together.

Atolé is a classic Mexican drink. I love to make it on high-energy winter days, and think it is better than hot cocoa as a warm up after a long afternoon of trekking through the snow. I have a pouch cook variation that I take on backpacking trips as well. Tonight, after coming in from a bitter cold walk around the dog park, I decided to try the recipe from Gourmet Sleuth, which looked a little more sophisticated with its whole vanilla beans, etc. But it doesn’t have milk in it, and was quite a bit thinner than my recipe. So I think, in the end, Marta’s Atolé wins out. I generally use Billington’s Molasses Sugar (available at Wegman’s here in Ithaca, or online) for this recipe. It provides a rich flavor that I imagine more nearly approximates the flavor of traditional piloncillo.

(Hint: click on the images below to view the full size photos over at Flickr. You’ll be able to read the recipe better.)

My mother gave me the picnic check binder sometime around 1971, and it became the repository of all my cooking lore as my skill and interest deepened. In those days, we lived in a pole frame cabin in the woods, and did much of our cooking on an old Monarch wood-fired cookstove. In addition to the simple fare collected in the book, are ingredient labels from breads that I used as the basis for my own bread creations, formulas for household products, and formulas relating to my animal husbandry. There’s even a recipe for baby formula for fawns—as in baby deer (yep, one of several wild babies I raised during those years).

Some of the old recipes I still use today. Watch this space for a few classics that I’ll pull out and share from time to time.