I am a baking machine!

Mr. Rilch has been jonesing for me to make a stuffing recipe he saw in Bon Appetit. If it worked out, we agreed that I would make it again for Thanksgiving. Slowly, we amassed the ingredients. Fresh basil? I’ve never noticed those little plastic containers of fresh herbs. Pine nuts? Ten dollars a pound?! :::faint::: I also wanted to make buttermilk waffles; I’m hoping to make that a Sunday tradition. Furthermore, I decided that one batch of Ghirardelli chocolate chip cookies doesn’t survive long around here, so I planned to make two.

Got up, made the waffles, they disappeared. Around two, I started the prep work for the stuffing. Two red peppers, an entire bunch of celery, two huge red onions, all to be “coarsely chopped”. Thank god someone told me about putting a spoon in my mouth while I slice onions. Go back on the boards for a while, then chunk the bread and toss it with olive oil and parmesan.

Mr. Rilch’s boss arrives when I’m putting the bread in to toast. No, he can only stay to watch the movie. Stuffing? Will it be ready before 5:30? That’s unfortunate.

The bread can’t be contained in one bowl; have to divide it between the bowl and the spaghetti pot. Saute the veg with butter and more oil. Add the spices, then add the raisins and pine nuts. Guys, can you come in for a second? Yeah, that does smell like home cooking. Stop drooling, Friend. Sure you can’t stay, Boss? Well, Mr. Rilch can bring some to work tomorrow.

Divide veg between two containers, toss. Butter the pans. Good thing I have two alike. Spoon in stuffing, salt, butter, chicken broth. Butter tin foil. There is no end to this. Put in oven along with ham.

One hour later, serve. Ten minutes later, one empty pan. Light up a well-deserved post-prandial smoke, then begin CC cookies. Butter has been softening all day. Not enough brown sugar? Growl. Off to Ralph’s. Back in time to start recording KOTH premiere (haven’t watched yet). Stir stir stir stir stir (only thing I don’t like is adding the everlasting flour). Drop onto pans and sit down to watch Sopranos DVD.

Twenty-five minutes later (old oven), first batch removed. Glad I have a rack for cooling. Bring out to living room. No, Mr. Rilch, I’m not fattening you up to eat you. Friend, you need a wheelchair to get home? Haha, you’re trapped!

I am a baking machine!

What about a link to the stuffing recipe? I was getting hungry reading your story! I know it was in a magazine, but at least tell us which one, pretty please?

Couldn’t find a link to the recipe, but it was in this month’s issue of Bon Appetit, the one with the big juicy turkey on the cover. It’s called “Country-Bread Stuffing with parmesan, raisins and pine nuts”. I don’t want to violate a copyright, but e-mail me if you want details.

Is your name a literal description?

Totally off topic, but when I saw the title, I thought you were declaring that you were a banking machine.
This gave me the unfortunate image of a person standing in the supermarket with twenty dollar bills coming out of their mouth.

Carry on.

Yes, my username is my profession. I wasn’t really imaginative when it came to picking out a name. I work in a cafe that does a lot of scratch baking, cookies, pies, breads and rolls, scones, plus a lot more. My favorite baking and/or experimentation is with breads. Nothing smells better than baking bread. I’ll find that copy of Bon Appetit and get the recipe. And thanks for the lead.

You’re quite welcome!