Nobody Knows Anything

In case you’re looking for interesting things around the Web this New Year’s (and who, of course, is not?).

• The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, who also has a new book by that name (which I haven’t read but sounds very interesting and very much the sort of thing I’ve started doing on my own anyhow right now). A regular gal—albeit one who clerked for a Supreme Court justice—decides to investigate the various bits of advice she’s found hither and yon on what makes for happiness and actually does them to see how well they work.

• Tiny Buddha by assorted authors. Yes, we’re back onto the happiness/zen/meditation track here, but hey: that’s what I’m interested in these days! Nice articles about the little things you can do in your every day life to improve your experience and the experiences of those around you.

• The Great Fitness Experiment by Charlotte Hilton Andersen. Ever read some fitness magazine’s recommended workout and thought, I wonder if that really works? Well, Charlotte doesn’t just wonder; she goes ahead and does it. One experiment per month, undertaken with hilarious and awe-inspiring intensity. She’s a witty, fun writer whose explorations into all things health and fitness will knock you upside the head. Also: she just had a baby. Ever wonder how to get your groove back after having a baby? Imagine you’re on the newest of four young tots. Yeah. It’s good stuff.

• Cookie Madness by Anna. Seriously, do I need to explain this one? Pictures + recipes + descriptions of COOKIES (and other tasty baked treats) = love. It’s Cookies. It’s Madness. Go.

• Bakerella by Bakerella (who’s probably a baker named Ella, natch). Usually when I think “crafty,” I think “manipulative and evil, and can you teach me how to do that?” When Bakerella does crafty, I think “gorgeous, amazing, and tasty, and can you teach me how to do that?” Oh, I want to be able to create the sorts of treasures you find here.

• Copenhagenize by Mikael. Mikael would like us to Copenhagenize the planet—that is, put everyone on a bicycle and get us out of our cars. They did it in Copenhagen (a city once devoted to its cars), so let’s get out there, folks! Since I feel this is an admirable goal (even as I still drive around in my 8 year old, 100k mile Honda Odyssey), I think everyone should read the inspiring tales of moving to better transportation.

• The Secret Diary of Steve Jobs by Fake Steve (or Real Dan Lyons). I know, Fake Steve’s been around for years, with a prolonged hiatus during Real Steve’s medical issues. Now he’s back and when Fake Steve is on, he’s on. The whole crusade against AT&T’s annoyingly sucky service? Excellent, Smithers. His series of slams on Tiger Woods? Evil but hilarious. Whenever I see terrible retail layout (I’m looking at you, Borders) or seriously tacky bling (that would be you, teenagers), I hear Fake Steve’s snarky voice in my head.

  Darin, surprisingly, does not find Fake Steve as hilarious I do. I can’t imagine why.

We went to see Food, Inc. last night—we are at the cornucopia section of the summer, where there are so many movies we want to see, yet instead of the three options I usually send Darin for our movie choices, I sent him only this one. It’s a documentary, it’s not a fun topic, gosh only knows how long it will be in theaters. So off we went to see it, and of course Darin ran into someone he knows. (This is a fairly frequent occurrence, honestly.) I did get my usual Red Vines, but Darin passed on the popcorn. Which, really, was all for the best.

Food, Inc. is sort of a greatest hits of current factory farming/industrial food complex criticism that we’ve read about from such writers as Eric Schlosser (Fast Food Nation) and Michael Pollan (The Omnivore’s Dilemma), both of whom are featured prominently in the film. Their theses are, to logline it: We have become removed from the source of our food; if we knew what went into our food we’d demand serious change; it is in everyone’s best interest to be fully informed about what the food manufacturers are presenting to us.

The movie presents an overview of the major factors involved with the industrial-caloric complex: the political, the economic, the medical, and the environmental. The political, showing the toothlessness of the federal government (when the USDA can’t even shut down processing plants known to be producing unsanitary food). The economic, where food—by which I mean food “product,” or the crap that litters our stores—is made so cheap by the vast corn subsidies our government gives “farmers,” by which mean the multibillion dollar conglomerates like Archer Daniels Midland or ConAgra or Tyson. The medical, where there’s no debate about how our modern Western diet is killing us. The environmental, where the runoff from the CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation, where animals are grown and live their entire lives in a cesspool of their own manure) is destroying watersheds, killing towns, and encouraging the growth of diseases like our old friend, e coli.

I also have to criticize the movie for sacrificing depth for breadth. For example, one section of the movie is the story about the low-income family who can afford dinner for a family of 4 at the Burger King drive-through (primarily because everything at Burger King is heavily processed food, dependent on the ubiquity of cheap corn). The family goes to the supermarket to find healthier, fresher choices and they simply can’t afford it. Broccoli is not deeply subsidized. Burger King is. The father is taking various medications for diabetes, the cost of which severely reduces their food budget even more. The younger daughter is now at risk for developing diabetes soon. The film gives us lots of statistics about the rise of diabetes in our country…but then assumes we know the connection between this food and the diabetes, because it sure as hell doesn’t explain it to us.

The clear culprit of our current food system is the corn subsidy. Surprisingly, the film doesn’t call for the subsidy to be ended (or at least severely changed). That may be the take-away they’re hoping we get from it, but it never says it out loud. Of course, maybe they’re worried about being sued about that kind of thing. The film does explain that, unless you’re Oprah and have the money to pay the team of lawyers to fight the Man, you’d better shut up and keep your head down, or otherwise the ranchers/Monsanto/other will sue you to kingdom come.

Many people say, If the price of food rises, people won’t be able to afford it! The answer to that one is pretty goddamn clear to me: we can’t afford what we’ve got going on now, and if people can’t afford it, it’s time to pay them some more goddamn money, isn’t it. (And stop making them spend most of their food budget on diabetes medications.) Our American way of life is not sustainable, and we have to rethink what our real priorities are here. If Food, Inc. gets people curious about the topic, so much the better.

If you are interested in this topic and don’t know where to start, here are some great books to check out. They’re popular science, meaning they’re written for normal human beings to read. (With the possible exception of The China Study, which has lots and lots of scientific studies and research for the biggest wonk to wade through, but you can still read plenty of stuff in there without going cross-eyed.)

• Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser.

• The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan.

• In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan. This is a good overview of the problems and issues confronting us in the modern food age and asks us to really think about what we’re going to do about it.

• Food Matters by Mark Bittman. I like Bittman’s food writing for the NY Times a lot, and this book is another good overview of the issues we need to deal with, like, NOW about our the industrial-caloric complex. Plus: recipes!

• Food Politics by Marion Nestle. This is an excellent in-depth investigation of what makes it to your plate and why.

• What To Eat by Marion Nestle. After Food Politics so many of her friends said, “So what am I supposed to eat, anyhow?” Nestle then went into a supermarket and investigated what the hell is actually on the shelves. Wonderful reference tome.

• Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People In the World by Greg Critser. Critser investigates where all this cheap corn came from (the Nixon administration) and the effects it’s had on our food and our health. If you want an explanation of what high fructose corn syrup is and why it’s bad for you, check this out.

• The China Study by T. Colin Campbell. If, like me (being a good indoctrinated American), you said, What on Earth can we learn from the Chinese about nutrition, the starvation of whom we’ve been made guilty about for years? Well, this ain’t the Cultural Revolution and China exports food to us. (Think about that.) Campbell makes it pretty clear that the absolute first line of defense against what’s known as “the Western diseases” is what goes into our mouth. You can argue with his conclusions—but this is a pretty dense scientific tome and he’s published, y’know, actual scientific papers on these topics.

• The Way We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter by Peter Singer and Jim Mason. Singer is a philosopher who specializes in the ethics of our food choices, which seems specialized and arcane until you realize it touches just about every single aspect of our lives. The book uses three families who have very different food philosophies (fast food, organic and free range food, vegan) as the jumping-off point to investigate where we get our food from and why it matters. I absolutely will not eat turkey ever again after reading this book (sorry, Aunt Lil, but no way, no how, am I eating turkey this Thanksgiving, or ever again at any other time). Singer is vegan but he doesn’t disparage the families who choose to eat meat: he investigates why and and where their food is coming from.

Feel free to suggest others in comments.

In my continuing quest to go vegetarian cut way back on the amount of animal products I consume (I’m sorry, I’m such a weenie, I’m just not a labels person), I have started made it my default behavior to search restaurant menus for the most vegan meal possible. That is to say: a salad without cheese as a main listed ingredient >> a salad with cheese >> a salad with fish >> fried chicken sandwich with slab o’cheese and mayo.

Holy God, it’s nearly impossible.

Seriously, play this game at the next restaurant you go to. Look for the vegetarian dish. Find the meal where you can easily remove the animal products and have anything left. When vegetarians complain about pretty much being offered green salad (and usually iceberg at that) or maybe some roasted vegetables on pasta, they are not kidding. There is such a huge range of vegetarian cuisine out there and the general public does not see any of it, unless they go to an ethnic restaurant, such as Indian or Ethiopian. (Many vegetarian entrees at Chinese restaurants are often cooked in chicken broth, so that’s a big ol’ No.) And there’s an upper limit, even for me, on the amount of falafel and hummus I can consume. Admittedly, it’s a pretty high upper limit, but a limit nonetheless.

No wonder people think vegetarians are odd: they’ve been crammed into the odd corner.

I’ve taken to using apps such as VeganXpress and VegOut to try to find someplace in the neighborhood to get something to eat. I think I need a few new ones to help me out. If you have any suggestions, leave ‘em in comments.

After the movie last night we went to Rock Bottom Brewery, where I played the “anything but iceberg lettuce” game—I have nothing against salads, salads are the best, I actually love eating huge gigantic salads now, but I don’t want that to be my only thing—and came up with… the Tex-Asian vegetable potstickers. Which turned out to be (more or less) samosas in a vaguely potstickerish wrap. Well, I guess it’s a start.

Darin points out that the supremely stupid Maureen Dowd column (redundancy alert!) about Twitter contains the following exchange:

ME: Do you ever think “I don’t care that my friend is having a hamburger?”

BIZ: If I said I was eating a hamburger, Evan would be surprised because I’m a vegan.

Enough with the burgers already. We need to find a new standard food.

(Admittedly, Biz’s response is somewhat of a non-sequitur. Okay, more than just somewhat.)

I’ve become interested in vegetarianism and veganism recently. I’d like to say I’ve suddenly developed compassion for other species—any other species…actually, let’s include ours in there too…except I haven’t. In fact I was most deeply affected in this respect by the book Food Matters by Mark Bittman, which I read on our recent trip to Hawaii.

There wasn’t anything particularly new in the book, I’d read the various things in bits and pieces elsewhere, but for some reason, the way he juxtaposed the effects of factory farming on the environment (for instance: the fabulous fact that raising livestock creates more greenhouse gases than does all of transportation…cars, planes, the whole nine yards) and the effects of our diet on our health (which I’ve known) and came up with Change Or Die really made a big impact on me. Here’s Bittman on the subject at a TED conference.

Bittman’s strategy of eating “vegan until six” makes a lot of sense to me (though of course I haven’t done it yet): eat a strong plant-based diet until dinnertime, at which point nothing is off the menu, although after a while you’re going to lean much more heavily toward the vegetables and greenery and use the meats as a condiment, not as a main course. And as a convenient side effect you’re going to find your health improve and your weight drop. Just a side note.

Between “vegan until six” and Michael Pollan’s seven words mantra, “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants,” it seems really easy to choose what direction to head in.

I really like Bittman; I think How To Cook Everything is a fabulous general cookbook, and I am looking forward to picking up How To Cook Everything Vegetarian. (Well, after our remodel is done. Not buying more stuff now!) I am also bored crapless with the meals we’ve been having. I can see the kids aren’t going to be thrilled by moving to a more vegetarian diet, but my theory on dinner runs something like this: “You can eat it, or you can not eat it. There is nothing else being served.” So maybe they’ll adjust.

And by the way, if you don’t buy what Bittman or Pollan has to say, maybe you’ll buy Barack Obama:

(Let’s all take a moment to imagine how George W. Bush would have responded to that question. Or pronounced the word “vegan,” for that matter.)

Anyhow, so I’ve been reading up more on vegetarianism and veganism (hilariously, I’ve discovered that the built-in Macintosh dictionary doesn’t recognize the word “veganism”—uh, guys, you might want to get on that before someone shows up in your office with a flamethrower), and I’ve noticed something omnivores do whenever the subject comes up. It’s like a tic. A really, really weird tic that makes me go “Hmmm.” Obama does it in that YouTube video. In the letters to a recent Salon story about Jeffery Masson’s appeal to veganism, letter-writers did it over and over again. The general gist of it goes like this:

I like to eat steak.

or:

What you need is a good cheeseburger.

And all I can think every single damn time I see it is: Is somebody a little defensive about something?

It’s always about cow meat. It’s always specifically about consuming cow meat and how it’s superior to all other forms of food. I know that Americans worship this idea of the West and cattle ranchers and what have you, but…the knee-jerk defensiveness makes me think: You guys know there’s something wrong with your diet, right?

It is impossible to be informed about our current food production system and our understanding of nutrition and keep to the standard American diet with any confidence or gusto. Consuming cow does not make you superior; in fact, depending on the kind of cow, it could make you quite sick.

We know there’s something wrong. We know we can’t continue the way we’ve been going. And the entire world can’t move to our diet (which they are trying damn hard to do), because if they do the entire freaking ecological system is going to collapse. (Seriously. Look into it.) Start with yourself and discover different ways of eating that don’t depend on cutting up other living beings (that have a central nervous system—don’t go for that canard again).

And stop with mentioning the cheeseburgers already, unless you want to signal that you secretly know how bad your diet is.

Update: And indeed, the letters to this Huffington Post column about the enivronmental dangers of livestock production continue this you-will-pry-my-steak-from-my-cold-dead-fingers meme apace.

Last week we went to Kara’s Cupcakes, which opened at Santana Row a month or so ago. Tonight, since we decided to have dinner in Palo Alto, we decided to first swing by Sprinkles Cupcakes at Stanford Shopping Center to get some cupcakes for dessert. First, as at Kara’s, we had to wait in line. Then, we entered the temple of cupcake, designed with an ultra-spare geometric aesthetic ruling the decor, with spotlights highlighting the cupcakes in their sleek cabinets. Apparently they were putting out enough cupcakes to have 6-7 cute young thangs moving behind the counter, taking orders, filling boxes, keeping the line moving.

“You know what this is?” Darin said.

“What?”

“This is the Cupcake Genius Bar.”

He’s right! It’s the Apple store of cupcakes! Soon, we will all be part of the postmodern aesthetic!

Kara’s has better cupcakes though.

Yesterday the Possummomma posted about a woman who said:

The school is supposed to give the kids a healthy lunch. So what that
there’s fact and sugar or chemicals. It’s food. We’re a working
class family that can’t afford to fix a good lunch for the two dollars I give
the kids for school lunch. The kids wouldn’t eat fruits and veggies anyway. When am I supposed to make these lunches? I work. Besides that it’s not my responsibility to go out of my way to make lunches that the school must give by law.

To which my only reaction can possibly be:

My brain reads “So what that there’s [fat] and sugar or chemicals” and it ‘splodes a little. What on Earth do you mean, So what? Are you the one in charge or not? Are you the one modeling behavior for your kids, or are you not? On what planet is it not your responsibility?

(In case you didn’t look at the webpage in question, in response to this declaration, the Possummomma shows her how to fix a good, healthy lunch for under two dollars.)

And with fruits and veggies: I honestly can only guess she’s never given them to her kids. My kids won’t eat everything — they won’t even eat all the things they used to eat. (Sophia the girl who could eat an entire bunch of asparagus when she was two won’t even touch the stuff now.) But we still offer them a variety of foods and they have favorite fruits and veggies despite being picky.

One of the key things I decided on early was that I was not going to be a short-order cook. There are a few choices for breakfast on school mornings — not as many as I’d like, but we tend to be rushing around in the morning and I keep the menu simple. I offer them a few choices for their lunch: they can pick what kind of sandwich they want or a thermos of soup, plus a fruit and maybe a snack. For dinner, I serve one meal. They can eat some of what’s put on the table, or they can pass and wait for breakfast in the morning. Strangely enough, they usually end up eating some or all of what I’ve served. Not always, and probably not with as much variety as I’d like. (For instance, they’ll usually have some of whatever starch I serve.) But they know they’re not getting anything else instead.

One good book worth checking out on the subject is Lunch Lessons: Changing the Way We Feed Our Children by Ann Cooper and Lisa Holmes. And a quick glance through Amazon shows a number of books on the subject: Brown Bag Success: Making Healthy Lunches Your Kids Won’t Trade, The Top 100 Recipes for a Healthy Lunchbox, and The Healthy Lunchbox. Several of which turn out to be available at my local library, so I’m going to pick a few up and check them out.

I know it can be a pain in the ass to find out everything about everything, but please: this is your body, and your kids’ bodies. You take charge of what goes into them, okay?

Today’s Adventures in Non-Euclidean Geometry:

Your pantry is a small room, approximately 8 feet by 4 feet in size, with shelves on three of the walls. It is crammed full of stuff and you are beginning to have trouble using it. You are also annoyed because you have a cereal bug infestation that you have not been able to stop. Because spring fever is setting in a few months early, you have decided to spend your Monday, with the help of two others, cleaning out the entire pantry from top to bottom and then only put back the things you like. You remove every single object from the pantry — boxes, cans, books, glassware — and you fill up your entire kitchen with what used to be in your pantry. Then, after the pantry gets scrubbed down and mopped and disinfected, you return things to the pantry. At the same time, you fill three black garbage bags full of items you are discarding.

When you finish, your first thought is:

1. “Wow! This is so wonderful!”
2. “Take THAT, cereal bugs!”
3. “Why is it I have a ton less stuff and it still doesn’t all fit back in?”

Answer: 3. I still can’t figure it out. If you have a lot of stuff, and you remove a ton of it, you should have LESS, right? Apparently it doesn’t work that way. Weird.

You have removed the six shelves’ worth of cookbooks so that you can rearrange them or get rid of them, as the case may be. It used to be that collecting cookbooks was your husband’s thing. Since you’ve begun cooking and more especially since you’ve begun baking, however, you’ve taken over the cookbook buying habit. How many books have you bought in the past year?

1. 10
2. 20
3. 50

Answer: 2. I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to keep it to about 20. Lots of cupcake books (Why? Have I been making many cupcakes? If so, when?), lots of baking books, a couple of casserole books.

What’s the oldest expiration date you find in the pantry?

1. 2005
2. 2002
3. 1993

Answer: 3. Which means it’s from the year Darin and I got married. Which means it survived a move to Los Angeles… and a move back. It did not survive today’s purge, however. And strangely enough? I can’t remember what this item was. Probably for the best.

You are confused by the presence of which item(s) in your pantry?

1. The Flours: all-purpose, bread, cake, rice, potato, and whole wheat.
2. The endless containers of balsamic vinegar.
3. The three separate bottles of Ancho Chile Powder, a spice you never use.
4. All of the above.

Answer: 4. Okay, I kind of understand the flours. But the 5 separate bottles of balsamic vinegar? I think the pantry must have been such a mess I didn’t know I already had balsamic vinegar. (Gee, ya think/) And the Ancho chile powder: go figure.

One of the first things you find once you’ve put everything back in the pantry is:

1. That library book you’d been searching for.
2. A cereal bug.
3. Something for tonight’s dinner.

Answer: 2. GodDAMN cereal bugs. Everything that a cereal bug might find tasty is in plastic buckets, so I’m hoping to God this is going to starve whoever’s left.

Despite having had a lot of help in doing the pantry, I am completely wiped. Tonight’s dinner will be leftovers, ’cause I got nothing left for actual cooking. This is why you need a small house, so that you aren’t tempted to have all this crap to begin with.

This is totally the year we get this house in order. I need to feel less hostile toward my living environment on a day-to-day basis.

I am completely wiped. The kids are playing nicely together in the other room with their new dolls — Simon got Batman and Robin, Sophia got Batgirl and Princess Genevieve, and somehow they’ve come up with a shared universe. My father-in-law is finishing up some of the dishes from yesterday. I’d stop him, but that would take effort and, well, let him do it if he wants. Darin is upstairs in bed, not sleeping as I had supposed, but reading his birthday/Christmas/Hanukkah/Solstice gift from his brother Mitch: Absolute Sandman. Mitch also gave me a book that I was up reading into the wee hours (well, well past my bedtime): Essence of Chocolate, by the founders of Scharffen Berger Chocolate. As I lay in bed last night reading this book, I kept thinking, “I’ve got to get some sleep. I’ll read just one more recipe. Okay, I’m going to make that. No, I’m not going to make that, because I have not one but two refrigerators stuffed full of food. But as soon as we have run out of food, I am so making that.”

(I actually bought a small refrigerator this year specifically for Christmas. It fits into a utility closet. Darin says he’s going to take it to work when he goes back in January. I said we’re going to see about that.)

The reason I had to get to sleep (and not bake anything when I woke up) was that yesterday was Christmas and we hosted 15 people for dinner: my family, Darin’s family, and a family of friends of ours. I asked my guests to bring hors d’oeuvres and Mitch to make salad while I concentrated on dinner and the local French pastry master did dessert. I need to make a few notes of things to remember for next year:

• I’m not cooking for 15 people, I’m cooking for 9 adults and 6 children. Thus, I should make food for 10, not 15..
• And not 10 hungry people either, but 10 people who’ve just gorged on delicious appetizers.
• Take the roast out when the internal temperature is about 120. We took it out at 130 and while it was pink inside, it wasn’t rare and we were all kinda hoping for rare.

On Christmas Eve I made the batter for the Yorkshire Pudding, so it would be nice and cold when the time came. And so I didn’t have to worry about it come the morning. I also made about 3 dozen gingerbread cookies “for the kids to decorate.” Uh huh. If you say so, Diane.

First thing Christmas morning at about 7 am I took the 12-pound, 5-rib prime rib out of the fridge and put it on the counter to get to room temperature by noon. As it turned out, it did not get to room temperature by noon — we put it in the microwave for a few minutes at 20% power, and that seemed to work without cooking it.

I trimmed and washed three pounds of spinach. I washed each clump of spinach twice, and there was still sand in it when I was all done. That was for the creamed spinach, which was wonderful, although three pounds of spinach steams down to about a handful.

I scrubbed, peeled, and sliced (using a mandoline) four pounds of russet potatoes into 1/8-inch slices. This went into potato au gratin. I actually topped the potato au gratin with a bunch of gruyere cheese, so it was a bit of a gratin dauphinois too. Every recipe I read said, “Supposedly one batch serves 8 but everyone had two helpings so make more!” Of course, you should only make more if you have 10 hungry people and not 10 people stuffed with hors d’oeuvres. I’m going to learn. Seriously. But the potato au gratin was wonderful: creamy and just enough tang from the cheese.

I made actual egg nog, with raw eggs and rum and everything. It was not nearly as thick as the store-bought stuff. I don’t know what I did wrong (if anything). Probably didn’t fluff the egg whites enough.

As hors d’oeuvres we had a variety of hard cheeses, sour cream coffeecake (from Zingerman’s), leek pie, spanokopita, spicy chicken drummettes, goat cheese, and some other tasty things that I don’t think I got around to.

When the beef came out we deglazed the pan, poured a 1/4 cup of drippings back in, poured the Yorkshire pudding batter on top of it, and put it back in. I watched it for a while and started moaning, “It’s not puffing.” “A watched pudding never puffs,” I was told. Repeatedly. By everyone in the kitchen. It did, in fact, eventually puff up and quite nicely too. Yorkshire pudding? Rocks.

We all ate like kings for dinner, if I don’t mind saying so myself (and I don’t), and after resting for a bit we had the chocolate buche de Noel and tarte Normande with creme Anglaise. Oh, they were good. I could only eat small slices of both, but you didn’t need more than a small slice because they are so flavorful. That Pascal Janvier, he is a genius.

The kids played on the Wii for a while (which was tricky, given that we had 4 controllers and 5 kids, but apparently they shared pretty well). After my sister’s family and our friends left, Mitch played Zelda for a while. We had to keep telling the kids, “No hints! Let Mitch figure it out!” But they wanted to share everything they knew about the game, despite being told not to.

After Mitch left and I did as much cleaning as I could stand, I headed upstairs and started reading the chocolate book. I forced myself to stop around 11, when my eyes were closing of their own accord.

It was a pretty good Christmas day.

ETA: Darin started reading The Essence of Chocolate and said, “This is the greatest book EVER.” He agreed I should wait to make a few of the recipes until we have a space to store them, however.

My God, how I love the Internet. I’m still going through the projects, so I can’t even tell you which is my favorite yet. The giant Bounty! The insanely large Kit Kat! The liquid gold caramel that ate Leeds! Or vice versa! Wow, does this site inspire me. Unfortunately, it inspires me to try one of these things with really high quality and expensive ingredients, thereby missing the point entirely. (Via Sugar Savvy.)

I took Martha Stewart Baking out of the library. It looked great! Excellent pictures. A wide range of great baking recipes, not all of the whip-up-this-little-wedding-cake-in-your-spare-time variety, but homemade Oreos and cupcakes.

She had a recipe for Pullman bread (also known as pain de mie), and since I am still looking for the sine qua non of pain de mie, I couldn’t wait to try it.

Then I read the instructions and went, “Huh?”

Let me summarize it: make the dough. Let proof. Punch down; let proof again in the proofing bowl. (Most recipes I’ve read do only one proofing in the proofing bowl, but whatever.) Take the dough out, fold up, put in pain de mie pan, let rise.

So far, so good. Then we get to this:

Close the lid completely and bake, rotating pan halfway through, until loaf is light golden brown, about 45 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 350F, close the lid, and continue baking another 30 minutes.

I assume that second “close the lid” is there because you opened the lid to check on the loaf’s color. But this baking time — what the hey? 75 minutes total is almost double what any other recipe I’ve read has called for.

I pulled the loaf out after the 45 minutes were up: the loaf was a deep golden brown, and the crust was actually several millimeter thick. To be absolutely sure I used my insta-read thermometer, and the interior temperature was fine.

What’s up with that extra 30 minutes? If this was the first time I’d baked bread, I would have cremated the loaf.

This makes me very nervous about trying other recipes.