Scott got some free tickets to tonight’s Phillies game through work and so, despite the heat, we trekked down to Citizens Bank Park. Happily, the seats were good and we were adjacent to an air conditioned space which offered some necessary relief. I had a very tasty hot dog (although it makes me sad that the relish didn’t come out of a large dispenser) and later ate an ice cream sundae out of a small plastic helmet. Because the food is really what sporting events are all about for me.

In the past, I’ve looked at bread baking as something that was optional, recreational. I’ve played with the much-lauded No-Knead Bread technique. I’ve baking (and eaten) more loaves of quick, sweetened breads than I care to count. And yet, I’ve never really considered the fact that I could bake the type of bread I like to eat regularly with my own hands and oven.

It’s sort of a strange disconnect, but truly, I had it in my head that baking bread that required kneading and making it at all healthy was impossible. So I played with frivolous breads, all the while, buying my favorite whole wheat sandwich and toasting bread at Trader Joe’s.

Yesterday, I woke up to a snowstorm and a work voicemail saying that the office was closed. With an unexcepted free day and kitchen almost entirely devoid of bread, I decided to see if I could make something similar to my favorite toasting bread. Looking around for a recipe, I settled on this one from The Frugal Girl, which she has adapted from a Cook’s Illustrated recipe.

And now, I have no idea what was preventing me from doing this. It was incredibly easy (granted, I’m pretty comfortable with yeast, so take this “incredibly easy” rating with a grain of experiential salt). I mixed the dough in my Kitchen-Aid and hand-kneaded for about ten minutes. The dough was pretty sticky, but with the help of the bench scrapper and some extra flour for dusting, it kneaded into a supple, stretchy ball quickly.

In recent days, I’ve been trying to buy less and make more through canning, making my own yogurt and generally cooking more from scratch (I’ve gotten pretty adept at pizza in recent days). I do this in part because I want to have more control what’s in my food and also because I’ve been trying to reduce the amount of packaging I consume. Scott thinks that I sometimes take this to an extreme (like when I take a plastic container to a restaurant when I know we’re going to have leftovers), but mostly, he goes along with it.

I’m hoping to make this utilitarian bread part of my homemade, no packaging effort!

Last weekend (not this very snowy one just past, but the one before that), Scott and I piled into our 18 year old Subaru and took off for Reading, PA, and spent a couple of days exploring several of the stops along the Berks County Wine Trail (and in the process, filming an episode of Fork You). Up until recently, I’d not been particularly familiar with the concept of wine trails, but having spent a little time on one, I’m a fan. It’s a fun and visitor-friendly way to explore a region of the state and sip a very broad spectrum of wine.

Neither Scott nor I are huge wine drinkers. I like a glass now and then, and when around the right people, (I’m looking at you, David Snyder) I can really get into the ceremony of swirling, sniffing and thinking about the diversity of flavors in each sip. While he does appreciate a glass of bubbly, Scott is even less interested in wine than I am. And yet, we had a really great time on this trip, visiting the wineries and trying a tons of different wines. It’s nice to know that one doesn’t have to be an established vinophile to enjoy a wine trail weekend.

Our first stop was the Clover Hill Winery shop at the Boscov’s Fairground Farmers’ Market in Reading (what a great indoor farmers’ market it was too! It reminded me a lot of Lancaster’s Central Market). A very sweet and engaging woman named Deb poured us tastes of six different wines and generally made the experience a complete delight (and made us feel completely comfortable with the fact that we were drinking wine before 11 a.m.). My favorite was the Chambourcin (I’m a sucker for a dry red), while Scott (and his sweet tooth) found their Strawberry and Pear wine to be right up his alley.

Oh, and the picture you see up there of those smokey cheesers? Those little guys are delicious (and deadly, as they’re all butter, cheese and sausage, bound together with a bit of dough).

Soon enough, it was time to say good-bye to our new friend Deb and head to Manatawny Creek Winery in Douglassville. There, we were greeted by Darvin Levengood, who spent more than an hour with us, teaching me how to say Gewurztraminer, sharing some of his favorite wines (all made by his daughter Joanne, an accomplished winemaker who studied at the UC Davis wine program) and giving us a tour of their fermentation and bottling area.

It was here that we learned the basics of wine sales, as well as the fact that the state of Pennsylvania taxes alcohol differently from the Federal government, making for complex bookkeeping for winemakers (sounds like a line of work I’ll be staying far, far away from). We also got a brief tutorial on the process of removing the yeast particles from sparkling wine after it has done it’s bubble-making work. It was fascinating.

When we left Manatawny with plans to visit a third winery on Saturday afternoon. However, when we started the car back up after lunch (really good burgers at Union Jack’s Inn), something was wrong. It had developed a throaty rumble, akin to a souped up hot rod. We called Blair Winery (our third stop of the day) and told them we weren’t going to be able to make it. Missy Blair, our contact there, was really flexible about the whole thing and told us not to worry.

Sunday morning, we checked out of our room at the Reading Crowne Plaza (a terrific hotel with an indoor pool, comedy club and jazz nightspot), climbed back into the car (patched and road-ready thanks to Perry at the Reading Pep Boys) and headed off to Long Trout Winery in Auburn, PA. Long Trout is a hoot. As you can see from the picture above, their tasting room is totally wacky, every corner bedazzled by sixties rock and pop culture ephemera.

The wines are also different from anything I’ve ever tried before. We came home with a bottle of strawberry and milk chocolate wine, called Instant “O.” Other really intriguing ones included a vegetal Old One Eye and the Sour Cherriola. If you are in the Auburn area and appreciate a hippie culture and the work of a highly creative winemaker, I recommend stopping here.

Next was Pinnacle Ridge Winery, in Kutztown (we did take a brief detour in order to visit the Hamburg, PA Cabela’s. That place is a circus). This light-filled tasting room was a welcome relief from the chilly day and we were particularly delighted by the friendly grey cat who trotted up to greet us.

Of all the wineries we visited on this trip, Pinnacle Ridge was my favorite. I think that’s mostly because it was the most familiar. It had a look and feel of some of the wineries I used to visit when I was in college in Walla Walla. Additionally, their wine was amazing. We were particularly blown away by their ice wine. Amazing stuff!

Our last stop was Blair Vineyards. We were originally scheduled to visit them on Saturday, but postponed after our car trouble. Happily, they were incredibly flexible and made room for us to stop by late Sunday afternoon. It’s a long, curvy drive up to their tasting room and production facility, but totally worth it. This family-owned and operated winery is one to watch (and I’m saving the bottle of Pinot Gris we bought from them for something special).

And that was our weekend. I was really delighted to discover so many terrific wines being produced within an hour and a half from home. I’m really looking forward to finding out more about Pennsylvania wines!

To see more photos from the weekend, click here.

He read briefly from his book, primarily from a section that poetically details his foundational childhood food memories, many of which took place around his grandmother’s kitchen table. I connected with this part, being someone who’s spent a great deal of time examining the roots of her own food/eating aesthetic, and the many woman in my family who played a role in shaping it.

After that, he moved into an hour of question/answer, which didn’t hold me in the same way as his writing. It’s not that he isn’t a personable and engaging speaker. And to be honest, I essentially agree with the thesis of his argument, which is that the factory farming of meat is an un-humane and unsustainable practice in this country. Yes, we eat to live, but we also eat for pleasure. And in our culture, where food in plentiful, it’s impossible to separate the practice of eating from the receipt of pleasure. Every bite can’t simply be a political act. It also has to be a joyful one.

Now, I’m not saying that we have to eat lots of meat because it’s the only source of pleasure. There is so much food that can be deeply delicious and pleasing that contains no meat at all. I just believe that you can’t talk about food without at least touching on the subject of pleasure and satisfaction. To me, it’s an empty discussion without that factor.

(Just to be clear, I buy the best meat I can. I haven’t personally bought factory farmed meat in at least a year, so I’m deeply on board with the idea that if we eat meat, we need to ensure that it’s the most humane we can get).

For a more thoughtful discussion on this issue, go read what my friend Joy (co-author of the recently published cookbook Almost Meatless) wrote last week.

Best Kettle Chips ever! Smoky, tangy and with that classic kettle cooked flavor. It took everything I had to keep us from eating the whole bag in one sitting.

My garden has been in the ground for just about a month now, and it’s really starting to catch up with the other plots around me. I’ve got one little zucchini and bunches of flowers that make me hopeful for many more. The cucumbers are taking over and are blooming with such vigor that I’m feeling so grateful that I planted the pickling kind. The tomatoes are starting to set and my basil continues to put out so many fragrant leaves. I am delighted.

Scott and I went for the first time on Monday evening (it was the third Chefame). The event was held upstairs at the Dark Horse on Headhouse Square. We had no idea what to expect when we arrived, but happily, my favorite wine expert was there, with his wife and some friends of theirs, so we sat with them at a long table in the corner by the window. Over the course of three hours, we ate seven courses and talked about everything from cameras (David and I were both sporting our Nikons) to reality TV to whether or not I should cook for a Chefame at some point in the future (all signs point to probably).

The food ranged from pretty darn good to seriously amazing and I recommend that you Philly folks go to one of these if you have a chance. They’re fairly inexpensive for large meals, this one was just $35 for those seven courses. Drinks are not included, but the bar offered a handful of very reasonable booze deals.

We’ve been having an incessently rainy spring here in Philadelphia. It feels like it’s been raining for months (the only time out from the grey drizzle being the three-day heat wave we had in April). Having grown up in Portland, I try to remain outwardly unaffected when it comes to the rain, mostly because I still harbor a embryonic desire to live there again someday, and I don’t want to give this man I live with any further ammunition against the place (the chances, however, of us moving to Portland are narrow to none, so no one freak out). It is starting to get to me though.

I am grateful for one thing that this drizzle brings with it, and that is the return of the local salad greens. They love these cool, wet days and so have been turning up in abundance at local farmers markets. I bought two bags last Saturday at the Rittenhouse Market and I desperately wanted to purchase more Sunday at the Headhouse Market (I wisely refrained as even when salad greens are delightful, there is still a limit to how much we can eat before they turn slimy).

Tonight’s dinner was a simple one, that took all of two minutes to throw together (once the chicken was cooked). It was two big handfuls of salad greens (the farmers I buy from pre-wash their greens before bagging, so they are ready to go, just like the ones you buy from the regular grocery store), three inches of chopped English cucumber, some slivered red onion, a few spoonfuls of garbanzo beans, some feta cheese and a few chopped chicken tenders that I cooked on a countertop grill (like a George Foreman, only bigger).

I predict many more meals such as this one before the salad green season is out.

I’ve always loved old recipe boxes, here’s a post written about a recipe card file I plucked from a junk store many years back. Vintage Recipe: Spiced Peaches

I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to summer tomatoes. My body is particularly craving the sweet acidity of the yellow ones. The picture on this post, Fresh Mellowed Tomatoes from the Weeknight Kitchen, isn’t helping things any.

I can’t wait for zucchini season to be here again, so that I can make these Whole Wheat Zucchini Walnut Muffins and this Zucchini and Eggplant Casserole.

Memories of popovers, roasted red peppers, stuffed zucchini, plums and chai.

Over the years, I’ve written more than is seemly about the pleasure I take in avocados (and I realize, as I look back at some of these posts, I’ve essentially written the same intro paragraph over and over again). Here’s one of my favorite avocado posts.

It’s still true, I can’t make corn on the cob without thinking of my grandma Bunny.

I love this post, about eating ripe figs, late at night, alone in my kitchen.

Reading this post makes me remember that I still need to take my Toas-Tite for a spin.

Oh and how could forget this one! This Broiled Lemon Salad Dressing is one of the best things ever.

Part of the problem is that I already found the fabric I want. It’s that swatch you see right there. It is the perfect marriage of modern with a classic, mid-century* sensibility. The issue with it is that it costs $105 a yard (and I need two yards), which seems like an absolutely outrageous amount to pay for something that will serve as resting place for my tuckus. Additionally, it doesn’t seem right that the fabric for the seats would cost more than all the chairs combined. However, having found my ideal fabric, it’s now proving difficult to find anything that I like even half as much. It is truly a conundrum.

Another contender

Part of why the fabric is so pricey is the fact that is based on a design found doodled in the notebooks of Charles and Ray Eames after their deaths. They are the ones responsible for some of the most iconic furniture design of the mid-century era. It is licensed and copyrighted and apparently, no one has attempted to knock off a cheaper version (at least that I can find) so if I break down and determine that it’s what I really want, I will have to pay a small fortune for it. For the meantime, I’m going to keep looking.

*I never thought I would become such a fan of the mid-century look. Throughout my childhood and adolscense, I loved old pine and oak furniture. The more it looked like it came out of an old farm house, the better. However, over the years, as I’ve lived among my grandparents’ lovingly tended Danish Modern pieces, the smooth, clean lines of the teak has grown on me, to the point where I gravitate towards it over antique pieces I once used to lust. All that said, I’m still looking for an old hoosier cabinet (the kind with a built-in flour sifter and tin-lined dry goods bins) and would never think of giving up my Mission rocker.