I did a silly thing. I knew we were going to make pizza for the Daring Bakers Challenge this month, but didn’t read through the recipe until the last minute. So it was on the very last day of having time to spend in the kitchen, that I realised the recipe actually required a day’s worth of preparation and resting prior to baking!

*slaps forehead*

Still, I didn’t want to let such a minor detail deter me from attempting the challenge. So where it stated that the dough should rest overnight, I allowed it a good 4 or so hours sleep in the chiller before waking it up again. I figured, heck, if I often have to cope with that little sleep during my working week, then a pizza dough should be able to perform reasonably well too. Inbetween, I also made a basic tomato sauce for the pizza base.

Turns out, the dough was every bit the survivor as I had hoped, and that evening, B and I sat down to a very satisfying dinner consisting of two different flavoured pizzas – a Margarita style pizza with tomatoes, bocconcini and basil, and a mushroom one. We even got into the spirit of things and watched an episode of The Sopranos.

In case you’re wondering about the tossing of the dough, I must confess I’ve never been much of a tosser (!) so, sorry, no photos there! Also, I’m sure a lot of fellow Daring Bakers opted to transform half their doughs into sweet versions, but I seem to have a mental block about dessert pizzas, and steered well away from that. The savoury versions were tasty enough, with plenty left over for another meal the next day, so I have no regrets about that decision! 😀

Thank you Rosa, for picking pizza as this month’s challenge, in memory of Sher. This recipe is now the pizza dough recipe to beat, in my kitchen! In fact, I’m hoping to make it again (the proper way) soon.

Basic Pizza Dough :
(makes 6 pizza crusts (about 9-12 inches/23-30 cm in diameter, from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice by Peter Reinhart).

607.5 g unbleached high-gluten bread flour or all purpose flour, chilled
1 3/4 tsp salt
1 teaspoon instant yeast
60g olive oil or vegetable oil
420g water, ice cold (4.5° C)
1 tablespoon sugar
Semolina/durum flour or cornmeal for dusting

DAY ONE

1. Mix together the flour, salt and instant yeast in a big bowl.

2. Add the oil, sugar and cold water and mix well in order to form a sticky ball of dough. On a clean surface, knead for about 5-7 minutes, until the dough is smooth and the ingredients are homogeneously distributed. If it is too wet, add a little flour (not too much, though) and if it is too dry add 1 or 2 teaspoons extra water.

3. Flour a work surface or counter. Line a jelly pan with baking paper. Lightly oil the paper.

4. With the help of a metal or plastic dough scraper, cut the dough into 6 equal pieces.

5. Sprinkle some flour over the dough. Make sure your hands are dry and then flour them. Gently round each piece into a ball.

6. Transfer the dough balls to the lined jelly pan and mist them generously with spray oil. Slip the pan into plastic bag or enclose in plastic food wrap.

7.Put the pan into the refrigerator and let the dough rest overnight or for up to thee days.

DAY TWO

8. On the day you plan to eat pizza, exactly 2 hours before you make it, remove the desired number of dough balls from the refrigerator. Dust the counter with flour and spray lightly with oil. Place the dough balls on a floured surface and sprinkle them with flour. Dust your hands with flour and delicately press the dough into disks about 1.3 cm thick and 12.7 cm in diameter. Sprinkle with flour and mist with oil. Loosely cover the dough rounds with plastic wrap and then allow to rest for 2 hours.

9. At least 45 minutes before making the pizza, place a baking stone on the lower third of the oven. Preheat the oven as hot as possible (260° C).

10. Generously sprinkle the back of a jelly pan with semolina/durum flour or cornmeal. Flour your hands. Take 1 piece of dough by lifting it with a pastry scraper. Lay the dough across your fists in a very delicate way and carefully stretch it by bouncing it in a circular motion on your hands, and by giving it a little stretch with each bounce. Once the dough has expanded outward, move to a full toss.

11. When the dough has the shape you want (23-30 cm in diameter – for a 180g piece of dough), place it on the back of the jelly pan, making sure there is enough semolina/durum flour or cornmeal to allow it to slide and not stick to the pan.

12. Lightly top it with sweet or savory toppings of your choice.

13. Slide the garnished pizza onto the stone in the oven or bake directly on the jelly pan. Close the door and bake for abour 5-8 minutes.

NOTE: After 2 minutes baking, take a peek. For an even baking, rotate 180°.

14. Take the pizza out of the oven and transfer it to a cutting board or your plate. In order to allow the cheese to set a little, wait 3-5 minutes before slicing or serving.

I had been waiting for what seemed like an excrutiatingly long time, for my preordered Fat Duck cookbook to arrive. A couple of days ago, I got home to the sight of a huge parcel leaning casually against our front door. I dragged it into the apartment and ripped it open, rather excitedly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Fat Duck book, which at the time I thought I actually forgot to order. Instead, amongst the plastic packaging was a copy of Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit. Oh, when did I order that?

Flipping through the book (always from the back first, where the desserts are!), the words poppy, seed, parfait, caught my eye. I had never really thought about this before, but I seem to have a certain fondness for most things poppyseed-related. Lemon and poppyseed cake would be the first thing that comes to mind, but I’ve also seen lots of creative ways in which people utilise poppyseeds, such as in a vinaigrette dressing and in pasta dough. My friend Gabby also makes the most amazing Hungarian poppyseed pastry rolls called beigli.

This dish is my interpretation of Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe. The rhubarb in particular was very delicious – rhubarb and ginger are one of those heavenly matches that always leave me reaching for more. With the leftover cooking liquor, I diluted it a little, and froze it to make a pretty-in-pink granita to complement the rest of the dish.

As for the Fat Duck book? Well, I’ve since realised that I didn’t forget to order it afterall, so now I’m the ridiculous owner of not one but two copies of that gorgeous book. How, I ask you, do I manage to do these things!? 😛

Poppyseed Parfait :
(from Aquavit, by Marcus Samuelsson)

1 cup poppyseeds
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
scant 1/4 cup honey
3 cups heavy cream
5 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons dark rum
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Combine the poppyseeds, pine nuts and honey in a small saucepan and heat over low heat for about 5 minutes, until the honey is liquefied. Remove from the heat and let cool.

In a large bowl, whip the cream until it holds soft peaks. Set aside.

Combine the egg yolks, sugar, and rum in the top of a double boiler or a heatproof bowl. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds to the pan. Set over simmering water and heat, whisking constantly, until hot to the touch. Remove from the heat and continue to whisk until thick, pale yellow, and cool. Fold in the poppyseed mixture, then fold in the whipped cream.

Divide the parfait among eight glasses. Cover and freeze for at least 6 hours, or overnight.

Poached rhubarb:
(a variation on Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe for a rhubarb compote)

300g trimmed rhubarb stalks
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 stalk fresh lemongrass, lightly smashed and cut into 4cm lengths
1 small piece ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Cut the rhubarb into 4cm lengths. Slice each piece into 1/2, or 1/4 if they are thick pieces.

Combine the sugar, water, lemongrass and ginger in a medium saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds and pod to the pan. Bring to a boil, turn off the heat, and let stand for 20 minutes to infuse the liquid with flavour.

Strain the infused liquid and return it to the saucepan. Add the rhubarb and simmer for 10-15 minutes or until the pieces are just tender. Remove from the heat. Strain the liquid and let cool slightly before serving.

“I wound up my clockwork sufficiently to tick out onto the waking streets and buzz a newspaper off the sleep-deprived vendor. Like the rest of the poor in sleep of the coming twenty-first century he was a money junkie, trading shut-eye for a tight fist. Nobody can afford to sleep anymore. Do you realise how much it costs?”
–Disappearance I, Jeanette Winterson

I love my sleep. Love the ritual of clean teeth, the gurgle of gargled water down the drain pipe. The shedding of clothing, as if removing them meant you were rid of the day’s troubles and worries. Slipping between sheets; the tangle of limbs. I don’t often get enough sleep, despite the fact I don’t think I ask for much. Give me at least six hours, I say. Usually I average 4 1/2 during my working week.

“And then I was offered the job of a particle in factory physics. I was offered the job of an electron in an office atom. I was offered the job of a frequency for a radio station. People told me I could easily make it as a ray in a ray gun. What’s the matter with you, don’t you want to do well? I wanted to be a beach bum and work on my wave function. I have always loved the sea.”
–Disappearance I, Jeanette Winterson

The other day, I woke up with a start. Maybe my alarm clock didn’t go off. Maybe I was so sleepy, I turned it off without realising. Or maybe I totally forgot to set it to begin with. Either way, I started the day with a run. Running down the street to the train station. Running to catch a bus. Running, past skyscrapers and concrete empires, threaded between blue skies I don’t have time to glance at. Running, to catch up with the rest of my day. At the end of it, I ran all the way home.

“I know we are walking home by a roundabout route, but after I bought my paper this morning I decided to go to the park and feed the rubber ducks. The real ducks died because so many people were feeding them in the new twenty-four hour working day that not a drake nor a duck had a moment to itself. Some sank under the weight of soggy bread, others exploded. The rubber variety are much more adaptable.”
–Disappearance I, Jeanette Winterson

You know when you’re so out of breath that you can’t whistle? Sometimes I feel so exhausted, that this endless cycle week after week, makes me feel like an exploded duck, weighed down by so much expectation. Expectation of bouyancy. Of being able to fly. At the end of the road, when there’s nothing left of me but a funereal bill, will anyone remember what the duck looked like?

“I flung myself down and watched the clouds bumping each other, the break and mend of a morning sky. My body was relaxed and the ordered chords of my thinking mind began to separate into component notes, to reply themselves without effort, without purpose, trailing into.. sleep.”
–Disappearance I, Jeanette Winterson

Sleep restores me. When he’s by my side, that calm and gently breathing B, shoulders rising and falling, his warmth envelops me like no blanket can. I like turning over, knowing he’s there. That sleepy smile, when he realises I’m staring. The profferred shoulder, then snuggled like a spoon against custard.

I realise life is all about what you make of it. Make your own bed, as they say, and lie in it. One day I hope to achieve that magical balance between life and work. When I finally disappear, I hope it will be on my own terms. In the meantime, I continue to push myself. Push out of bed, push to the train station, push through the day and at the end of it, push home to see the B.

Baked Mandarin Custard :
(serves 2)

80g strained mandarin juice (approximately the juice of 1 honey murcott mandarin)
zest of 1 mandarin
50g caster sugar
3 egg yolks
180g double cream
1/4 teaspoon spices of choice (optional)^*

Preheat the oven to 150’C.

Whisk the sugar, zest and juice together to dissolve the sugar. Add the yolks, spices, then the cream, whisking only just to combine. Strain the mixture, pressing to extract any flavoursome oils from the zest and pour into two ramekins. Bake, covered with foil, in a water bath for 25-30 minutes or until the custard is only wobbling slightly.

Allow to cool in water bath, then chill for a couple of hours or overnight, before serving.

(^* I spiced this custard with cinnamon and cardamom, in honour of Anita’s theme for this month’s SHF : Spices! The custard was served with mandarin and hazelnut sable soldiers.)