Thursday, June 30, 2011

Lost in Canada with Kim Ode (contains recipe)

Have you ever stopped to think that you are not you?

Actually most of us are the compiltion of the advice and encouragement that we receave.

The "Last American Baker" that you have come to know wouldn't be a fraction of the charactor you read if it weren't for 2 people.

W/O them, I am certain my current life platform would be much closer to the ground.

I could break down statistics as to why they are wonderful, but that would get boring.

Instead I will tell you that #1 is Mike Finley who serves as not only my writing mentor, but also a set of eyes that watches to see if my freshly constructed paragraphs are headed into an alley of hoodlums.

The other is Kim Ode, sure she talks to me about writing as well, but more often than not we discuss baking, or simply gossip about many of you LOL.

So anyway, Mike and I were discussing Woody Allen the other day. I mentioned that his new movie, the Owen Wilson one that has the word "Paris" in the title, well it's currently playing at the Grandview, which is pretty close to our house.

I've pretty much just discovered Woody over the last 5 or 6 years. I think he writes dialogue better than anyone.....yes, even Quentin Tarantino.

So I was telling Mike how I had never seen a Woody Allen film at the show hall, and he just matter of factly pointed out that there was no reason to drop the coin.

I think he said something to the effect that Woody's works will eventually stumble across your path whether you want them to or not.

As the two us began comparing notes about this unique filmakers personality traits, Mike mentioned that in the real world Woody needed to be taken in small doses, apparently he is a very needy man.

Then the both of us began to laugh. I wouldn't dare to subject supposition as to why Mike was smiling out loud, but suffice it to say, I wouldn't be shocked if it was because like me,he realized by us pointing that finger at Woody was kinda like calling the kettle black.

I am incredibly high maintanace, I am a helium baloon that drifts in most air currents that cross my path. That's why its good to have friends with anchoring qualities.

Hanging out with Kim Ode is like hanging out with a Meryl Streep that knows how to bake.

If you go to an event and sit next to Kim Ode, your street cred goes up because she is "James Dean" cool. She is Sinatra, where I would be Dino.

Anyways, a few weeks ago she hopped onto a boat with her husband, and the two of them set out to sail across Lake Superior.

I can't even imagine what that entails.

During the first couple days she was gone, like a kid in a candy store, Klecko had a blast. He didn't puntuate 1/2 his sentances, he gossiped with "other girls", the whole dealio was great, but after 3 or 4 days. I felt the the Prodigal's Son.

I missed my friend and wished she was back!

Meanwhile, the Ode boat floated off it's course and Kim ended up pulling into some small Canadian port that was not on her travel itnerary.

The village,hamlet....whatever it is, it's called Tadoussac.

It's filled with a bunch of French speaking people and Kim told me that her surroundings were surreal. She felt like she had moved back into a lost era.

People walked around the dirt roads with torches so they could see.

Dude, I started thinking of those old Frankenstein movies. Remember how those people with torches, almost always owned pitch forks as well?

You could be at the Pub and accidentially knock over your goblet of ale and...that's right, a mob would form on the spot and chase you through darkness towards some delapitated castle.

During the first morning, Kim was being all Kim like, and walking around this new place, when out of the blue she noticed 2 wood fire stoves outside that were made out of stone. They had to be over a century old.

I guess they belonged to the bakery that was within 100 yards of this area.

So Kim walks in and the bakery was a tiny little hole in the wall joint, that just made simple white loaves for the locals.

However, these loaves were all basically 2 white rounds placed next to one another in a bread pan. when they were removed from the pans, they looked like breasts.

Blah-Blah-Blah, Kim told me more about the trip, but after saying BREAD and BREASTS in the same sentance....well, I won't lie. My brain froze.

I missed my friend terribly while she was gone. It seemed like her adventure was years in length, but in all actuality, it was like 12 days.

I can be so Woody Allen.

But it's good to give our friends breaks from our emotional grip. it's good for them to go into the world and experience new things, with that said......I don't have to like it!

Rustic White Bread

2 cups warm water
2/3 cup white sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons active dry yeast
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/8 cup milk
1/8 cup eggs
6 cups bread flour

Remember, if you want to go hardcore Canadian, find a Patent flour, or one with a real low protien level. If you can't find Patent....just blend 20% Cake flour with 80% All Purpose, or Bread flour.


  1. And I, in turn, missed how you juggle the facts like some Polish street performer. The respite from your emotional grip was over all too soon!
    And now, if you'll let Kim be all Kim (OMG, I'm talking in the third person!) may I point out that 1/8 cup eggs would be, in the home kitchen, half an egg. Which means I would add the whole egg. But Woody wouldn't, and that's why we love him, too.

  2. K.O. you are such an Egg Rebel.

  3. Let's just agree to be egg rebel.

    Thanks for the bon-mots, Klecko. I have a story that tells you about my origins.

    My Rachel was driving through California in 1978, and stopped by my father's hacienda to introduce herself. He invited her in, and fed her, and was reasonably hospitable.

    But wioth my dad nothing was ever simple. He looked at her and said, "You remind me of that movie star ... what's the name though .. the one with the red hair ...?

    Feeling complimented, Rachel rad through her list of ravishing Hollywood redheads.

    Rita Hayworth? That wouldn't be too shabby ...

    Katherine Hepburn? That would be ecstasy ...

    But no to either of those.

    Uh, she said,losing confidence ... Lucille Ball?

    No, not that one.

    The answer, of course was Woody Allen.

    My father just said the woman I would marry, the mother of his grandchildren, looked like Woody Allen.

    It was a remark as mean and passive- aggressive as it was obtuse.

    My father.

  4. WOW, Rachel is wicked hot....your dad is just offense.

  5. Some dads ... the damage is done, repair it and move on. Try your d::::dest not to repeat their mistakes, and discover you're making new ones of your own. Ain't none of us perfect.