The other kind is instant yeast. This is also known as rapid rise or bread machine yeast. Basically, you just toss it in with everything else and there is no need to do the sponge method. It’s convenient but I tend to dig the tradition of the sponge process. It’s science-y and cool, and it breaks the process into do-it-quick steps.  As the mama of two small trapeze artists, I appreciate that.

If, like me, you have followed a recipe without paying any attention to what kind of yeast is called for, you might have ended up with a dough that contains little balls of yeast in the finished product. It also doesn’t rise properly, resulting in a dense, heavy bread.  So if your recipe calls for instant yeast and you don’t have any, you need to do the sponge method.  The two types of yeast are generally interchangeable, provided you follow the proper method for whatever kind you have.

The Sponge Method

Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t, but yeast is a living organism. You always begin a traditional yeasted dough with the process of combining the yeast, a sugar, and warm water. These are the only three ingredients that are put together in the beginning.

• The yeast feeds on the sweetener (sugar, honey, agave, what have you) and the warm water creates a peaceful, supportive environment for the event to happen.
• Ideally, the water should be about 100–105 degrees (almost too hot on the tender part of your wrist). To ascertain the temperature, use a meat thermomtraeter to gauge the feel of the water.  Commit this feeling to memory, or use a thermometer every time if that works for you.

When the conditions are ideal, this will happen in about five minutes:

This is what is known as “the sponge”. Basically it’s a bowl of foamy goop. There are rules to yeast, but don’t be afraid of it. If the water is too hot it will kill the organisms, if the water is too cold the process will take FOREVER.

The feeding frenzy must be stopped at the foamy goop point or else the yeast will overproof (gorge itself and die) and won’t work in your dough.

How on earth do you stop the madness of this hungry yeast? Add your salt. That’s it. And technically it doesn’t stop it, it just slows the process down to the point where you can add the rest of the ingredients and give the yeast some real work to do. You don’t want to add your salt prior to this point though because your bread will turn out dense and brick-like.

Previous Post About Dough

Next up:  Balancing the Texture of Your Dough

You  might as well punch down your ego when you punch down that rising  dough.  The learning curve of homemade bread is pretty unforgiving.

Or  so it would seem.

Allow me to propose a solution:

Pizza.

Even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good and above all, it’s usually edible no matter what you do to screw it up.  It’s easy to add into your weekly repertoire, and the wealth of topping options makes it possible to disguise a less-than-perfect dough result while you’re learning the ropes.

There’s no way around it.  You have to just dig in and accept the fact that you are most likely not going to create perfect dough from your first efforts.  I didn’t and I spent two years working  in a bakery for God’s sake.

In order to help you incorporate this beautiful tradition into your own life, I’m offering the knowledge that has been passed to me from a variety of sources–my family’s secrets, tricks of the trade that I picked up working in a natural food store’s bakery, and tips and pointers handed to me by my co-workers there who have worked for places like this and this (thanks, G!).

To begin, we will be using my go-to pizza recipe, adapted from Horn of the Moon Cookbook’s Spinach Ricotta Deep Dish Pizza recipe (page 195).  I’ll be sharing the recipe that has morphed from the original and the techniques, step by step, over the next few days.  Baking bread is a slow process.  Learning how to do it with good results should be viewed as a process as well.

Next up:  Dealing With Yeast.

Amazing but true.

These are small practices, baby steps in the world at large, but for a mother of two tiny children I’d say it’s a pretty good challenge.

Make the bed.

This has become much more important now that the bed is in the living room.  (In a space that used to be a bedroom at some point in time so it’s really not that weird.  And it works for us so there you go.)

Brush everyone’s teeth.  And floss mine.

This is much trickier than I ever imagined it could be.

Make something.

Sit at the table and eat breakfast together.

Get the giant stroller and go for a walk.

Even when it looks like this outside:

I’ll admit that we don’t necessarily get out into snowy weather every day…do you have any idea how long it takes to get them dressed for this?

Sit still with myself for a moment of peace.  Every single day.

This usually involves cookies, a cup of Moroccan Mint Green Tea, and Facebook.  Today it’s chocolate biscotti that I made over the weekend.

Dance.

Usually in the living room.

And let’s not forget:

Dishes.

Laundry.  Laundry.  Laundry.  And more laundry.

Vacuuming.

Sometimes these mundane tasks require a little extra boost of motivation ~ I follow my friend Asja’s advice and put on a cardigan, some polka dots, a pretty necklace, and some tall shoes.

My heels of choice are Danskos.

I present our family’s Garden Vegetable Soup with Ravioli.  Don’t let your eyes glaze over at the sight of the crazy, long list of ingredients.  Add them all or throw in a few–this soup is very flexible.

In an 8–10 quart soup pot, saute:

• one yellow onion, diced
• 5–6 cloves of garlic, minced
• 3–4 carrots, sliced
• the ribs from the bunch of greens, sliced like celery
• 1 tsp. dried basil
• 1/2 tsp. dried oregano
• 1/4 tsp. pepper

until veggies are translucent and tender (8–10 minutes on medium to medium high heat).

Add:

• 1 28 oz. can diced tomatoes
• 1 14 oz. can tomato sauce
• 4 cups chicken or veggie broth
• 3–4 cups of water

Bring to a gentle boil.

Add any or all of the following:

• 2 yellow summer squash, sliced into half moons
• 1 zucchini, sliced into half moons
• broccoli florets, chopped
• 1/2 — 3/4 cup peas
• 1 cup cut green beans
• 2 red peppers, chopped
• 3–4 tomatoes, chopped
• 1 14 oz. can black beans

Continue to cook at a gentle boil until for about 25 minutes.  When the vegetables reach the texture of your liking, turn heat down so the soup gently simmers.

Add:

• leaves from the bunch of greens, torn

Once leaves have wilted, add:

• raviolis

Cook thoroughly, until the raviolis float.  We use the meat filled version but veggie or cheese would be equally as good.

Spoon into bowls and top with slices of Swiss cheese.

We cook a turkey once a year. This makes it pretty tough to learn from our mistakes and tweak our technique, because by the time turkey time rolls around again I’ve completely forgotten what we even did the previous year. This is worse now that I have lived in a constant state of sleep deprivation for almost two years. What to do?

Step One: Ask Santa for this cookbook:

It rules.

Step Two: Do everything that she says.

Maybe it’s the Virgo in me, but I absolutely love how Pam Anderson’s cookbooks go into great detail about how she arrived at the point of perfection. She goes on for pages explaining what worked, what didn’t work, methods that she tried, ingredients that she used, ah…it makes my heart go pitter pat.

I won’t go into all of the detail of how she arrived at the perfect turkey, but I will share the process that we use to make it happen. Of course we start with a good 10–12 hour brine (integral if you are using a frozen turkey but not so important if your bird is fresh). Then it’s off to the races.

There is a pretty major problem in the world of turkey cooking: in order to get the dark meat up to temp (165 degrees) the white meat suffers scorching temperatures that render it completely dry and overcooked. The solution? Cook your turkey upside down. Seriously. But just for a little while.

Now there are two different methods of using this technique–it depends on the size of the bird you are cooking.

For a 12–14 pound turkey:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Stuff the cavity of the bird with one chopped onion, a chopped carrot, a chopped celery stalk, and two sprigs of fresh thyme along with one tablespoon of butter. Truss turkey if desired.

Scatter the same amount of chopped vegetables in the pan around the turkey and pour one cup of water into the bottom of the pan. (This technique calls for placing the bird on a V-rack.) Place turkey breast side down on the rack. Brush the turkey with 2 Tablespoons of melted butter.

Roast for 45 minutes. Remove pan from oven, close the oven door, and baste turkey with butter. With a whole lot of paper towels in each hand, turn the turkey leg/thigh side up (there is just no graceful way to do this–just go for it and try not to drop the turkey). If water has evaporated, add 1/2 cup more to the pan. Return turkey to oven and roast for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, baste and reuse paper towels to turn the other leg/thigh side right side up. Roast for 20 minutes more. Remove turkey from the oven a final time, baste and turn it breast side up. Roast until a meat thermometer stuck in the leg pit registers 170–175 degrees (30–45 minutes more). Breast temp should register 160–165 degrees. Transfer turkey to a platter and let it rest for 20–30 minutes before carving.

For an 18–22 pound turkey:

It’s pretty much impossible for a large turkey to fit in the oven sideways, so the technique for big birds is a little different. The high temperature will also overcook the bird, so it’s necessary to make some alterations.

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Roast turkey, breast side down, for three hours, basting back side every hour or so with butter and adding a bit of water to the vegetables if they look dry. Remove pan from oven, close oven door and baste turkey with butter. With a whole lot of paper towels in each hand, turn the turkey breast side up. Continue to roast for one hour, basting once or twice. With turkey still in oven, increase oven temperature to 400 degrees and roast until skin has browned and a meat thermometer stuck in the leg pit registers 170–175 degrees, about one hour more. Breast should be 160–165 degrees. Transfer turkey to a platter and let rest for 20 to 30 minutes before carving.

NOTE: We make giblet gravy and just use a couple of tablespoons of drippings from the pan. We brine our turkeys so gravy made from drippings alone would be too salty.

So go for it–be brave. Your company will be thoroughly entertained with the whole process and they will be absolutely delighted with how freaking amazing your turkey tastes. Happy Turkey (or Tofurkey) Day!!