Lou Jane Temple - Bread on Arrival

BREAD ON ARRIVAL

LOU JANE TEMPLE

PROLOGUE

The young man slipped out of the water quietly. He was naked. This little river ran through his familys farm and he had been swimming in it his whole life. It had never been as amazing as it was tonight, as glorious, as revealing; Everywhere he looked there were shimmering silver disks: they glittered on his body, in the water, on the ground and trees. Inside every silver disk was an entire universe. Tiny spheres orbited around exploding brilliant suns, deep black holes of magnetism so strong he was sucked into everyone of them, belts of floating asteroids flickering as they darted along.

The young man laughed. He now knew the secrets of the universe. All those years of Sunday school, of church services. How foolish they seemed. He wished for a moment that his parents were here, his sisters. He would explain to them how everything worked.

Suddenly the ground moved. An ugly crack in the earth appeared right by the young mans feet. It threatened to swallow him, wanted to swallow him. He cried out for help,

[rolling as far away from the crack as ,he could on the flat Kansas ground. This ground that he had worked since he was a child, that had given him calloused hands and strong, muscled arms had turned against him with a vengeance. He was crawling now on his hands and knees, whimpering like a baby, trying to escape the underground that seemed determined to catch him, suck him into its bosom. Then the young man had a brilliant idea. He would climb a tree.

He ran back to the rivers edge where the cottonwood leaves rustled. He shimmied up the broad trunk of an old cottonwood, scraping his thighs. Blood appeared on his legs, his clawing fingers, the blood also glittering with the same silver disks he saw everywhere around him. He arrived at the V in the trunk, where two thick arms of the tree went in opposite directions to the stars. There he rested, shivering, cold, bleeding, but triumphant. The earth hadnt swallowed him like it had intended.

In an hour or so, the voices became too loud for him to rest any longer. They were calling him. He must find them. He jumped to the ground, a good twelve or fifteen feet below. His ankle twisted and snapped with the impact but the young man didnt care. He looked around for the voices. The voices were coming from down the train tracks. Down the tracks where the sun was coming up. No, there were two suns, next to each other, coming toward him. And the voices, so loud, calling him. He would go to meet them. Go to the twin suns. What an amazing universe, the young man thought as he ran, dragging his bad leg down the train tracks in the night.

Sweet Pepper Bread

1 sweet red pepper.

1 sweet yellow pepper

2 T. olive oil

2 tsp. dry yeast

1 1/4cups warm water

4 cups bread flour

2 tsp. salt

Roast the peppers by placing them in a shallow baking dish, drizzling them with olive oil and kosher salt, covering them with foil. Bake for 40-50 minutes at 350 degrees, until the peppers are soft. Cool, pull the skins off and finely chop the peppers.

Stir the yeast into the water. Let stand until creamy, about 10 minutes. Add the oil and peppers, then the flour and salt. Knead 5 minutes. Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover with a clean towel or plastic wrap, let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.

Punch down the dough and knead a minute. Divide the dough in two and shape into round loaves. Put on baking sheet sprinkled with cornmeal, let rise again for 1 hour. Heat the oven to 450 degrees. Place the loaves in the oven and spray the sides of the inner oven with water using a plastic spray bottle. Immediately reduce the heat to 400 degrees. Bake 35 minutes, spraying twice with water. Cool completely before cutting into bread.

-1

Heaven Lee was pouting. They said my gluten network was uneven.

Pauline Kramer, the baker at Caf Heaven, looked at her boss sympathetically. Pauline had finished her bread baking for the day many hours before and was now icing a burnt sugar cake with caramel-flavored icing. Thats why we use the Hobart to knead bread in this day and age instead of brute strength. But you have to learn to do it by hand first, the old-fashioned way. Making bread is very mysterious and very scientific at the same time. Chemistry and all that. She ended her speech with a smug little smile toward Heaven.

I know, I know, Heaven replied crossly. I guess the perfectionist hiding deep inside me had its ego wounded. No one has ever told me my gluten was unacceptable before.

Pauline smiled that smile again. It was great having the superior position for a change. Youre doing fine, she said grandly. You didnt even understand what gluten was six months ago. Maybe one of your arms is stronger than the other and your kneading is uneven, Pauline offered. One of mine is. I had uneven gluten too, until I learned to favor my left arm while kneading.

Heaven had been cradling her loaf of bread in her arms like a new-born baby, wrapped loosely as it was in a kitchen towel. She placed it reverently on one of the work tables. Pauline came over and pulled off a chunk, bit into it, and chewed. Heaven looked rather expectantly.

Well, your crust is nice, its a good thickness and its crisp. But you can see what they were talking about with the crumb, cant you? Paulines finger was pointing to the center of the loaf. There was a streak of dough that looked like it had been cut with a dull knife, all gummy and stuck together. And you probably didnt help matters when you formed your loaf. A lot can go wrong when youre forming your loaves, Pauline said with the confidence of: someone who had mastered loaf forming herself.

Brian Hoffman, the lunch chef and day prep cook had been taking in this conversation from his station on the other side of the table. He couldnt stand it another minute. What are you two talking about? Whats the crumb? I dont see any crumbs.

Pauline gave him a withering look. For your information, the crumb refers to the texture of the interior of a loaf of bread. We judge the crumb by whether it is even or uneven. Does it have big holes? Is it dry or is it gummy? Stuff like that, Pauline said with the authority of a Culinary Institute instructor.

Brian shrugged, unimpressed. Even if he were interested in the bakers art he sure wouldnt let Pauline know it now. Who knew, he said nonchalantly. I thought you just threw together some yeast and flour and water, knowing that was sure to get Pauline where she lived.

Heaven smiled and pinched off a piece of her crust, popping it in her mouth. She looked more confident and nodded to Pauline, as if to confirm Paulines approval of the crispiness. Brian, gluten is what makes raised bread. The wheat proteins interact to form this loopy chain of molecules, kinda like a slinky. Thanks to the gluten, the wheat dough expands to incorporate the carbon dioxide produced by the yeast. Thats what makes bread rise. Cool, huh? I must confess, Brian, I was almost as stupid about bread as you are. No offense, honey.

Brian grinned as he sliced eggplant. None .taken. Im a cook, not a baker. He looked up slyly and added, A lover, not a fighter.

Heaven hurried on, not wanting a war to begin between Pauline and Brian over which was more important to humanity in general, cooking or baking. Pauline is one of the board members of this national bread bakers group, ARTOS, which is Greek or something for bread. Pauline looked up proudly, and Heaven continued. So I joined and Im taking a beginning bread workshop. It certainly has taken me down a peg or two. I thought I knew everything I needed to about the kitchen, but this bread making is really an art. I also feel terrible about the conditions Pauline has to work in.

With that Pauline adopted a martyred expression. Brian wasnt buying it. He looked around the small kitchen. It was cramped but Heaven had bought every gadget and piece of equipment they had ever requested. It didnt look that bad to him. Pauline, what have you been whining to the boss about now?