A Day in The Life

Well, we are entering our sixth month and I think we have settled in pretty well. Pippa is a little edgy.

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But, all things considered, we are adjusting. Haven't had one, "That's it, I'm outta here!" moment. Of course, here on Skidaway Island just outside of Savannah, "outta here" means into a pitch dark primeval forest of Live Oaks draped with Spanish Moss and thousands of acres of trackless marshes ribboned with tidal rivers. Fifty years ago my Drill Instructors on Parris Island assured me those marshes are impassable. "The crabs will eat out your eyeballs before you're even dead, maggot." God, it's beautiful here in the Low Country of Georgia in the daylight but at night...Wilbur is the place to be. Especially if it is raining bobcats and alligators. Wilbur has these wonderful day/night shades. We pull them down and we are warm and snug and dry. The rain makes a soothing staccato patter on the roof.

Day shades down

Night shades down

The first couple of months I suffered from "We're On Vacation" syndrome. Our time is limited. Every moment is precious. We should be doing something interesting and fun. Now, I think we have established an equilibrium.

For instance, from a couple of days ago:
Roscoe woke me just before 7. He sleeps at the foot of our bed so when he wants something he just trundles up and starts licking and pawing. He can be very insistent. So I rolled up my pajama bottoms and carried him outside. Back inside, I made him breakfast: boiled chicken, sweet potato, apple and a few kibbles. He wolfed it down, if there is any wolf left in Roscoe; then the little bugger trundled back to the bedroom, climbed the two steps to the bed, settled himself on my pillow and promptly went back to sleep. Wilbur has given Roscoe the ability to get himself on and off of our bed This is a major quality of life improvement for Roscoe which does not quite compensate for his increasing difficulty breathing. There is nothing wrong with his hearing though. Usually when we return from our daily afternoon forays Roscoe is waiting for us by the door. He has a most pained expression on his face. "I was so worried. I have been waiting here by this step since you left. I thought you would never come back." Bullsh-t.  A couple of times Fran and I were very quiet returning. We found Roscoe up on the bed blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

With Roscoe taken care of, the cats' bowls filled, and Fran still asleep it is time to start the business of the morning: coffee,  bake bread, straighten up, sweep, plan the afternoon walk in Savannah, read a little news, a couple of blogs.....

The previous day I had made the no-knead dough for my boule. Now I turned it out of the bowl, patted it down, folded it up and placed it in a non-stick skillet for a second rise of about two hours. I had consistently great success with this loaf until we moved into Wilbur. The boule requires an oven that can maintain 450 degrees and a cooking vessel that will heat up and store the heat like a cast iron Dutch oven.

Wilbur doesn't really have an oven, per se. He has an Apollo 1/2 Time Oven, a microwave/convection combo.

The Apollo 1/2 Time Oven in Wilbur

It is has been great for almost everything else I've tried: sandwich bread, cinnamon rolls, cakes, pizza, whole and spatchcocked chicken --you name it. On 1/2 Time setting the oven cooks from the inside out  using microwaves and from the outside in with the convection element and fan. And it cooks in a little more than half the time. A recipe that calls for 35 minutes I will cook for 18 minutes then add time as necessary. To get chicken and pizza crust to brown I use convection only for the last part of cooking.

I spent most of the summer in Vermont trying to bake that freakin' boule. I tried over a wood fire (charred the bread and the cast iron pot); using charcoal around and on top of the cast iron Dutch oven, in my 1/2 Time on the metal cooking rack; in the 1/2 Time in the Dutch oven.

Boule--not good

The results have been less than acceptable and we are really beginning to miss the wonderful "artisanal" grilled cheese sandwiches. I am almost to the point of ordering this. It just might meet the needs of my two abiding food passions: bread and  wood-fired pizza.

It isn't wood-fired but.....

During our Summer in Vermont we went to a concert in a vineyard where this fellow was baking real neapolitan pizzas in about 90 seconds in a portable wood-fired oven. His menu feature only local, fresh products in season or the best imports he could find

The Fire Within Portable wood-fired pizza oven

I have been infatuated with the idea ever since.

With the boule doing its thing, it was time to turn to the sandwich loaf. My regular loaf is just fine. For years I have been using King Arthur Flours that I bought at Sam's. When I got to Vermont I learned that King Arthur is an employee-owned Vermont company out of Norwich. They have a great website which includes recipes, a blog, a forum where questions are answered and problems solved almost immediately by KA bakers who seem to monitor the site almost constantly. Every April Fool's Day they post the year's best flubs and failures at their test bakery. It's a hoot.

Now I have to knead by hand but I find I actually enjoy it. The Corian countertops in Wilbur are great for working with dough. If anything, I have to be careful not to over-knead, develop too much gluten and end up with a tough loaf. It takes a tough guy to bake a tender loaf. I almost don't miss my 600 watt Kitchenaide Stand Mixer.

No toy this

With both loaves on the rise and Fran out of bed after drinking her coffee and reading her iPad, we turn to chores. Roscoe has to be walked. That's a Fran job. The floor has to be swept. That's a Fran or David job. Anything out of its proper place has to be put back in it. That's a Fran and David job. The awful shag carpet has to be vacuumed. (David). With the two cats, that's a lot of cat hair. Clean the kitty litter, definitely a Fran job. Dishes. (Fran) Mess (David) This is how Wilbur looks with almost everything put away. He seldom looks quite like this.

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Into the oven with ramekins of water to steam  the crust 

A nice looking loaf

One outta two ain't bad.

With the chores done and the bread in the oven, we have the rest of the morning to putz around, ride our bikes, which we try to do every day, read the papers. Then, with the bread out of the oven, around noon we headed into Savannah to continue our walking tour of that great little city.

The Mercer-Williams House on Monterey Square

We got back home around 4. Roscoe got fed and walked (Fran and David). What with it being bread day we had pizza for dinner. After the first rise of the bread, I shape the loaf and cut off the ends to fit the bread pan. Those ends I use for pizza dough. I've kept them in a plastic bag in the rerigeratorfor over a week and in the freezer  for a month.

I bring the dough to room temperature, press it into a disc then take it outside to my pre-heated, round Lodge cast iron griddle thingy. Forty five seconds on the hot iron and the bottom of the pizza dough is crisp, golden and even slightly charred is spots. Then, inside, I build the pizza and finish it in the convection oven for about 12 minutes. No, its not the best pizza you'll ever have but it is pretty credible.

Now that daylight savings time is over Fran and I usually read after dinner. We watch one hour of TV a week, The Good Wife and, get this, we receive the broadcast over the air through our external antenna. Then by 9 o'clock we are usually in bed. We read a little more and ---that's the day.