New Creations

At work I have two bosses. They are a husband and wife team. Bruce is the baker, who I work with, and Yvonne his wife is who comes along and gives us ideas on different product to make - that being only one way to describe both individuals.

Yvonne showed me a picture yesterday of some Mushroom Bread that she'd found in one of the baking magazines that are sent curtesy of 'Bakels'. After oohhing and aahhing over how good it looked, I said I'd try it out tomorrow morning. Bruce had the next two days off, and for some reason that is when I am a bit more inclined to play. I had a look at what the recipe said, it asked for a starter dough, a mushroom mix and then the final dough also providing me with the baking temperature and times required. I stored it all in my head and came home at the end of my day.

When I came home I went onto Amazon and browsed 'books' - the only thing I'm interested in. Well, as the internet, then shopping on the internet goes, I went from one category to the next, winding myself a nice little web of wishes. Baking was naturally my broad spectrum.....which is when I came across a book called: "Tartine Bread" by Chad Robertson, a baker in San Francisco. Underneath what the book was a video about the book and a little bit about Chad, click here if you want to see it to.

Watching this guy, the way he worked, even the way he talked about bread - it gave me a whole new spark. The passion he has for his dough is just a tiny speckle I feel in myself. Watching him, that speckle turned a little bigger and I got excited.

Going to work this morning I had my mind set on trying to make a sourdough/ciabatta/rustic Mushroom Bread. After getting the days bread done for the shop, I paused for a moment in my organized chaos of a morning and attempted a new creation.

To be completely honest - if it was any other dough I would have said straight of the cuff, that it was absolutely stuffed dough. I messed it up really bad. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, and this was a dough that I made on a regular basis (aside from all the extra's that were to yet to be added.)

We make a mushroom sauce for our pies at work - very nice - which I added to the dough - plus a few extra garlic and butter fried mushy's. Made more of a mess. Then listened to the encouraging voice in my head that said it was all okay, stop it now, add this now, mix it, stop it, pull it out.

I left it to rise.

Then, again when I had a moment to pause, I cut the dough up, shaped it, and left it.

When I thought it was ready to go in the oven, I put it on a temperature of guestemated choice, for the recipe's first required minutes. Vented it afterwards and baked it some more.

I forgot to add rosemary to it which would have added to the tastes, plus to enhance the mushroom flavour a tad more, mushroom stock would have been great - otherwise this is how it turned out. I would have liked it to be a bit darker, BUT: It was exactly how I wanted it to turn out.

It had a good crunchy thin crust, and my inside texture was perfect. So soft, but I could stretch it out and the structure held.

There are certainly more improvements to make, and I'm happy with that, but this is bread that I made. Of my own design. Although I followed an initial guideline of a recipe, I made this one up as I went along, and I got what I had planned for.

It was one of those moments where I was very proud of my work and what I had accomplished.

It is these moments, that allow me to feel like an actual baker. Rather than a country bumpkin apprentice from a small town in a tiny country that lies at the bottom of the world encompassed by an expanse of ocean.

It is moments like these that allow me to feel like I could adequate myself to what I think when I hear baker - French, German, Italian, American. The Great's.

Promises

It is the middle of winter here, and it has been.....unpredictable. I could probably count on my two hands how many days have been a winter's day - freezing in the morning, clear blue sky and pounding sun, then freezing night. I found, when moving to the ocean, that we get more rain here in winter time than where I grew up - farther south. But due to a storm that has covered the whole country this last week, not all of us have had any true winter days, just rain.....and more unpredictability. With this storm, it can be sunshine with blue sky, then rain and black sky, then gusty wind, with a slight chance of blue sky and so it continues.

Today I woke up and it was very cold, the moon was big and full and round, the stars were out, I thought it was going to be a beauty. I was wrong, the sun came and went, rain came and went, wind came and went. When I was driving home from work this afternoon, I hit rain. Stretching right across the sky - from the sea to my left to the mountains on my right - was a rainbow. Then I noticed, that I could see parts of a rainbow right in front of me while I was driving. Not in the distance, but in-between my car and the one right in-front of me.

My drive home is about a half hour drive, for approximately 15 to 20 of those minutes I was following this rainbow. The one right in-front of me. I got to thinking about what they represent. Promises have not been a big thing in my life. I do not have a memory of any promises made, or any promises broken. Either that or a 'PROMISE' did not hold the same powerful meaning to me as the word holds.

The only promise I can pull from my memory box, is a recent one. Two years ago, my sister's middle daughter was turning 5 years old. Months before her birthday she asked me if I was going to be there for her birthday, I'm not sure if I said a straight yes, or whether she actually said I had to be there. I remember I told her that I 'promised' I would be there.

Her birthday fell on a Friday, which meant that I could only just make it. At the same time, I wondered if it was really important that I was there. She was going to have her cousins there in the afternoon, would she even realize that I wasn't there? Did she even remember that I said I was going to be there? Did it actually matter to her if I was there? After all she was only 4, it wouldn't do any harm if I didn't show.

But I 'Promised'. Whether she cared, or remembered, I knew what I had told her. I knew that there were things that happened when I was 4 years old, that still have an affect on my life to this day. I was going.

Friday, her birthday, came. I finished work around lunch time. I hoped in my car, and I drove six hours down the country. I arrived at 6 or 7pm, but I was there. For her 5th birthday.

Driving home today, seeing a rainbow, it made me think about what they represented. I wondered what promises meant. Wondering what was so important about them. Wondering what is so important about God's promise to me.

After writing down the one recollection of a 'promise' I have, I wonder if what I did is the meaning of promises.

Saying I will do something, even if I do not know if that something is possible. Doing anything I can, to make that something possible. No matter if it is not remembered. No matter if it does not make a difference. No matter if it is not noticed. I remembered. It made a difference to me. I noticed.

That is important to me, because I know that I am a better Aunty to my kids, because I kept that one promise. When they continue to come in the future, I will hold onto my word. I will remember the importance of keeping a promise.

No matter if it is not remembered. Not matter if it does not make a difference. No matter if it is not noticed.

Maybe one day it might.

A New Flavour

My sister has a blog which showcases all of the incredible things she has designed and created. Over the last little while she has chopped and changed her site trying to find what suites her best.

After browsing over my poor neglected blog, I thought I'd take a leaf out of my sister's book and spruce things up a bit, change the scenery, add a different flavour.

I played around a bit, exploring what fitted with this particular stage of my life's journey, and I really like what I came up with.

Who knows, maybe with a new design I may write more than what I have lately!!

A Hike

I have lived in the Bay Of Plenty region in New Zealand for the last 7 years. One thing that is learnt quite quickly when moving here, is that there is just one singular mountain that dominates a large amount of pictures, paintings and views. That mountain is called Mauao, or Mount Maunganui (for us Bay of Plentiers it's just called The Mount.)

(It is not the best photo I've taken)

The Mount can be walked around, or even walked up to the top. I have - in my recollection - walked around The Mount once, and never walked up.

Last week Friday it was a beautiful day, one of those perfect Autumn days where the sky was blue, the sun was hot, but the wind that little bit chilly. A great reminder of the awesome summer we've just had and, I'm only guessing, and incredibly cold winter to come - love it! I had the brilliant idea while I was finishing my day of work and decided that nothing will put this off for me. After living here for 7 years I was doing it. I was going to walk up The Mount.

My poor feet didn't think to kindly of me, I had been on them constantly since 3am that morning, but I figured if I kept my shoes on when I popped home for a bit it wouldn't be to hard.

When I arrived, I climbed out of my car and met the wind, the cold wind, but I persevered. The main beach of Maunganui was hosting a big group of people who were playing a couple of games on the beach, and had provided most in the area with two standing speakers pounding out music. Perfect push for me not to chicken out and just walk around, but to pound it out to the top. I started of with a rip roaring BANG! I had a great pace and I kept at it up those steps for all 10 minutes. I was knackered already. After a little rest and trying to remember how to breath I motioned forward, a decent track from the beach below keeping me company.

There were a few times when I thought to myself that what I was doing was completely ridiculous and I should just turn around and go enjoy the sunshine and music on the beach below. I eventually ignored those thoughts and slowly kept going.

On my slow and painful journey I came across this older couple, they had the absolutely pleasure of sitting on a bench that was found on the path, we exchanged a few words as I puffed my way past, a few stops later they passed me at my makeshift resting spot. And so our friendship of panting Mount climbers formed. We would pass one another, exchange a few exhausted comments and carry on.

Then a blessing came in the form of a down hill path. Oh the pure joy and pleasure of walking down hill. But my friends and I were fooled. Down hill was only a short while and then the up started again. There were a few moments after going down hill for a while when I was quite serious on turning around, but something kept me going and somehow, something inside of me clicked. I left my panting Mount climbing friends behind, and with the new energy that was fueling me I pounded that path all the way to to the top.

I had envisioned this amazing panoramic view that I would receive when finally reaching the top of Mount Maunganui. When I finally got there, I was surrounded mostly by a big grassy spot, a few people, and trees. If I was lucky I could make out some of the scenery towards the west, the north was an expanse of ocean, east was trees and a bit of ocean, and south - trees. True to say I was pretty pipped.

I found a small area where I could walk down and have half of the view I expected.

I stayed at the summit for a while, quite proud of my accomplishment, then I headed down. My jersey came back on while traveling down hill. My sweat and the wind had cooled me down and I was no longer puffing it out.

After all of this I realized a few things while coming down. We really are a friendly bunch of people us kiwi's. The amount of smiles and hello's I gave and received were a fair amount. Mind you each as funny as the next as some were just as puffed as I was going up. We all seemed to recognize the journey the other was taking. I knew how they felt as I had just made that awful trek up, but I knew the satisfaction that would come once reaching the top. I felt like encouraging each person I met on my way down. "You're doing a great job." "Keep going you're nearly there." "Take your time." It's not so lonely in this world when sharing a journey like that.

When I finally reached the bottom, the music was still playing on the beach - my idea of perfection , a wedding party were having their pictures taken, and I literally felt like I could have done it all again. Instead, I meandered back to my car on the other side of the peninsula, but stopped on the way and rewarded myself with a huge copenhagen waffle ice-cream cone.

It was only ever about the experience and this was a great ending to a great accomplishment.

Cakes, oh lovely cakes...

So another year has come around again, no memorable parting, no unforgettable night - I didn't even catch the midnight chorus - I went to bed an hour short of midnight as I had to get up early in the morning to go and bake!

Here I am in my second year of my baking apprenticeship, amazingly enough only 3 more months to go and I'm on my last year! Every year in my apprenticeship a block course happens, requiring me to travel 5 hours south of what I currently call home to a somewhat beautiful, but so, so, city Palmerston North, for two weeks.

Last year, for two weeks, I learnt about all sorts of different breads, and how to make them. This year myself and 9 others have been baking and adding a finesse to a variety of cakes.

So far I have only completed one week, which has been focused on cakes alone, next week we'll be baking biscuits.

Cakes is certainly something I want to play more with and make more of a 'long-term' option, so naturally I have thoroughly enjoyed these last 5 days. Half of the cakes I've either heard of, or have actually produced in the small bakery I work in, the other half, I'd never known existed.

Due to there being ten on us on this course, space is incredibly limited, and working in pairs produces an easier flow of production - although sounding reasonable, I really don't like the layout. When it comes to me and the kitchen I like to work alone. It is the time I zone out to everything around me and let food take over. Clearly over the years I've had to work on my patience issues with other people in the kitchen with me, making it a non-existent problem for me now. But, making it a more enjoyable and pleasurable moment when I do have those small moments of empty space.....

In saying that there is something magical - I think -about having someone to talk to in the kitchen with me while I bake/cook.

Anyway, with ten of us it's been interesting.

So here are most of the creations I've put my hands to, enjoy.

Because putting pictures on a blog seems to require a masters in qualification, I'm not going to risk writing what they all are underneath just in case they decide to re-arrange themselves, especially since its taken me nearly an hour to put these together!

So here they are about 2/3 of what I've had fun doing, I'll explain them all to you another date, or you'll just have to fantasize over what they're all called.

Love, me xx