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Tag: Cockle Bread

Lazy Bread Recipe

Roasted Garlic Fennel Wholewheat Ciabata

Here’s you: It’s Saturday or Sunday, Monday maybe even, you don’t know, but you’re hungry. Not that idiotic snickers I must have instant satisfaction now! kinda hungry, but some kind you haven’t felt for a long time. What the hell, eat some almonds, be done with it, move on.

No nuts, no chocolate, not even teriyaki salmon jerky for chrissakes. But what’s that? A pristine triangular package of French Brie sitting lonely in the lower recesses of the fridge. Cheap, of course, but still, cheese. This goes that deep. Suddenly this is about Stinky French Cheese. Someone should do some goddamn shopping around here, you say aloud, to no one in particular. Because you live alone. You are talking to yourself, yelling at the walls again. You are alone. Pathetic.

Splashes of Dreamlike Food Memories Are Haunting You

Splashes of Dreamlike Food Memories Are Haunting You

Head slumped, still digging in the pantry, shaking a bit now from low blood sugar, hallucinating last week’s bruschetta, willing to give a kidney – hey, I’ve got two! – for anything to pair with the Brie, eyeing the week-old open bottle of cheap red wine a bit too long, you see an abundance of one thing and one thing only: flour. Don’t know what kind of flour as you decided, for some goddamn reason, flour packaging to be passe some time ago, also apparently opted for the non-marking-with-sharpie-of-flour-type-on-generic-ziplocs. Ooh, whimsical me! So grab the 3 or 4 semi-translucent flour-filled bags, a couple bowls, the brown misshapen package marked yeast & then you begin.

Lazy Bread Recipe

First, don’t really clean the cutting board from last night’s dinner, the extraneous crumbs & sauces will add zest to your bread. Since the flour could be tainted with rat poison, mix dutifully, though no sifting. Who the hell actually owns a sifter? Do you? Pussy.

Next add a teaspoon of seasalt, a tablespoon of sugar – oops out of sugar – so some honey, maple syrup, sweetened chocolate, lemon drops, (miso?) will substitute well. Anything to get that yeast activating. Alternatively, if you can muster the energy to break into your neighbor’s apartment, do it, but under no circumstances should you actually go to the store. Might as well buy bread while you’re out. And get me a 40oz. of OE while you’re there. Widemouth.

All the while of course you’ve been blooming your 2 teaspoons of yeast in 1 3/4 cup warm water (You like that? “Bloomin’ your yeast” Totally made that up right now), but since you don’t have hot or even warm water you’ve got to either wait for the kettle to boil or go take some from the bathtub, which seems to be the more efficient, more of a French solution to the problem. Eh, pourquoi pas!

Soon Your Knife Hand Will be So Busy Smearing Cheese Here it's Not Very Funny At All

Soon Your Knife Hand Will be So Busy Smearing Cheese Here it’s Not Very Funny At All

So you’re yeast is blooming, and you’ve got your four cups of flour, throw in some olives if you’ve got some, and mix it already dammit! The thing is you’ve probably not added enough flour so choose a handful or so from mystery bag A, B or C and toss it in while stirring with some grizzly old whisk that breaks! Fearsome God of Goats Cheese! I curse your ill-born mother’s dollar whisk. I’ll break you! What the hell does that even mean? I did break you. Alright, take a break. Smoke a cigarette. Play some online poker or something. Actually doesn’t air help mix the flour & yeast molecules better? Yeah, so this is good for the bread. Cool. We are in control.

Being in control is the thing. So do it. Quit half-heartedly thinking about masturbating to softcore Tumblr sites and get up off your ass and finish the bread. Get your hands in it. Reach in there dammit! Oh, you washed them didn’t you? Oh well, write it down as “zest” in the recipe. “Schlooge” that too wet dough up and get residual flour everywhere on you so much so you’re hoping the cops don’t bust in mistaking you for some damn Colombian, to make it – your lazy dough – oh so like the Beatles, come together. When you’ve done enough kneading to change the chemical composition from liquid to semi-solid, go ahead and kick back bro, or sis. But maybe first you’d better grease up that bowl – nah, don’t clean it first – with some of that chili-garlic infused olive oil you made up last month. Damn, you hot sucka! and then, yeah, go ahead, take a seat, but wash your damn hands first before you get wet doughy wannabe man goo all over the damn couch like I did, making all manner of moths and the like come bombing down on you nipping at the crust of wheaty rosemary goodness hardening around the hair on your hands that’s gonna feel like a wax job getting it off later.

You should let it rise for an hour or so and then wrap it and refrigerate it overnight, but did you forget how damn rumbly your tum-tum is? Damn Geena! You a forgetful fool ain’t’cha?

Bake that mug up at 450C for 40 minutes, flipping and spritzing it with water. Little Bitch.

Damn Excellence in Amateur Baking

Damn Excellence in Amateur Baking

But, wait before you do that, slice the top in some geometrically intricate pattern with some sharp steak knife you probably stole from Outback making it look all professional so when your friends come over they’re all, “Yo, B, dude, which completely unreal bakery you get this buttery madness from already?” Nod your head, grinning wicked. Wake up bitch, we ain’t done! Crust that badboy up with some more of your slavoringly savory olive oil infusion and toss some the good herbs on top of that, you know the ones. You know you wanna let it sit out on a raised aerated surface like some country momma’s apple pie you know you’d steal too, but you ain’t got that kinda time, do ya cowboy?

You know what you just did? You just made the goddamndest tastiest bread in whichever tri-state area you hail from (Don’t pretend you don’t either. I know you!) and you didn’t even try did you? You might also consider cutting it in cute triangle-shaped quadrants and wrap it in a decorated cellophane with ribbon you curled with the scissors and give it away to the hottee down the hall, but on second thought, what’d she think of you giving her so damn cute bread? Probably she’d thank you all flirtatiously, go straight to your best friend’s house (even though she don’t know the fool) and screw his brains out, telling him as she slams the door on her way to Pilates class to tell you that she just cut out the middle man and cheated on you early before you could give her any more of that damnly delicious bread. So, in pre-retrospect you might as well just eat it all yourself. I heard in Russia kids are brought up well and oxen-strong like on just bread and vodka. Try it out!

Cockle Bread

Cockle Bread

Cockle Bread

Demi & Patrick making Cockle Bread in Ghost

Imagine the scene in Ghost- the one when Demi Moore is sitting at the pottery wheel with a button-up shirt, slowly working clay into a bowl. Late 1980s sex symbol Patrick Swayze comes up behind her from the shadows and embraces her with strong, yet gentle arms. They kiss, become one, all while the wheel continues spinning, the bowl falling from its form. What if that had been dough she had been kneading for a loaf of fresh bread? How would the scene have come out differently? How would that have affected the oh-so sweet lovemaking?

Sure, getting clay in random places can be exhilarating – just think of those expensive clay peels people pay ridiculous amounts of money for at swanky health spas. But what about flour and water? Does goopy bread dough have the same effect as the rhythmic wheel? Perhaps if it were fudge-like brownie dough, with the intoxicating aromas of chocolate in the air, then there might be something there. But that’s pretty obvious isn’t it – chocolate and sex? And what if someone were allergic to cocoa? Passionate kisses and hives…hmmm I don’t think so. What is it about moldable clay that can be portrayed so sexually and so enticingly that a simple ball of yeasted, olive oil-rubbed artisan wheat lacks? Both are controlled materials, and very malleable in their compositions. The maker/creator should have firm hands, knowing just how to work the dough or clay.

The connection between food and sex goes back to the early days of man. Ancient peoples believed different plants, vegetables, and fruits held mythical powers that could heal or strengthen those who partook of their elements. Bread has been a staple food for so many cultures that its seductive qualities may now be overlooked. The significance of bread cannot be merely seen as a nutritious foodstuff.

Cockle Bread

Cockle Bread

A Crusty & Lusty Closeup of Cocklebread

Going back to the 14th century, we discover that Spain’s Archbishop of Hita produced a narrative verse, Libro de Buen Amor, which includes an account of his time spent lost in the mountains, being fed and seduced by the serranas (practitioners of food magic) during which time he experienced the “transformation, preparation, and internalization” of food and drink vis a vis the “use of aphrodisiacs and philters to enchant and seduce.” Certainly with bread making there is the transformation of grain to flour, which is then used to prepare cakes and breads—“fertility symbols in many cultures.” P.V. Tabenier points out “many psychologists have observed that cooking is frequently equated with the process of pregnancy and birth and that the womb is the stove inside which the child is baked. Ancient gods such as Zeus were conceived of as millers and their consorts as mills; the human race was the product they ground and baked and on a terrestrial scale, man and woman performed similar functions.” Bread, like a fetus, is a growing being. As the yeast rises, the form grows in size, becoming heartier, filled with air and substance. When it comes time to put it in the oven, it has become fully developed.

CockleBread_Sexyloaf_Heso_Magazine

A Sexy Loaf of Cockle Bread

The Archbishop refers to various foods that were deemed to be sexually empowering: “diome foguera de enzina, mucho gacapo de soto, buenas perdizes asadas, fogacas mal amassadas, de buena carne de choto.” [much woodland rabbit, good roast partridges, badly kneaded loaves, good kid meat]. These foods were treated as cures for impotence. Camilo Jose Cela writes that a bollo (a bread roll) is a metaphor for a penis or vulva, while kneading was a metaphor for intercourse. The fact that the bread was poorly kneaded implies that the serrana is “sexually unfulfilled or inexperienced.” She either wanted to practice on the priest or just be satisfied with forbidden acts. Ultimately, for both the serrana and the Archbishop, the “act of feeding is the act of seduction.”

In a more explicit manner, during the 17th century, English women would bake cockle-bread for their men as a way to satisfy their appetites and satisfy something else. The dough would be kneaded and pressed against the women’s vulvas and then baked. Talk about yeast. John Aubrey, an English antiquary, wrote:

Young wenches have a wanton sport which they call ‘moulding of cocklebread’ – they get upon a table-board, and then gather up their knees and their coates with their hands as high as they can then they wabble to and fro with their buttocks as if they were kneading of dough with their arses, and say these words: `My dame is sick and gone to bed/ And I’ll go mould my cocklebread’. I did imagine nothing to have been in this but mere wantonness of youth, but here I find it to be a relic of natural magic, an unlawful philtrum [ie. aphrodisiac or love charm].

Now let’s look at some etymology: the word “companion” comes from Latin, which translates into “one with whom bread is shared.” So when we go out and try to find that special somebody to bump and grind with, we’re essentially searching for someone to share a piece of crusty baguette, hearty rye, some hearty whole grain, or any other bread that you have on hand, or leg, rather. Demi, go and get your ghost-lover; feed him the bread of your soul.

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