
I generally avoid overly fussy recipes because they are, well… overly fussy. Sourdough is not fussy. Really. Trust me.
Continue reading Kalamata Olive & Rosemary Sourdough BreadI generally avoid overly fussy recipes because they are, well… overly fussy. Sourdough is not fussy. Really. Trust me.
Continue reading Kalamata Olive & Rosemary Sourdough BreadAs much as I love making sourdough breads, there are many times that I realize I haven’t prepped my starter in time to do the baking I want or need to do. Bless the person who figured out how to make active dried yeast.
The first day of Lent in Greece is a bit of an oddity. For many, a strict Lenten fast will be observed in reverence to the solemnity of the time leading up to Pascha (Easter), while also frolicking and picnicking, and generally having a jolly good time!
Continue reading Greek Lagana Bread Recipe & the Tradition of “Clean Monday”
I live in California’s raisin country. If one drives out of town during the hot, dry days at the end of summer, row after row of grapes drying on mats can be seen in between the long stretches of grape vines. I guess you could say I know where my food comes from!
Greeks like bread. No… we LOVE bread. There is literally a bread made specifically for every main holiday, and this doesn’t even cover the bread used daily and in religious ceremonies!
So tell me, does anyone else look at their sourdough starter and yell in a mad scientist type voice “IT’S ALIVE!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” or is it just me?
Bread has been a staple of the Greek diet since antiquity, much like in other cultures world-wide. Definitely not the place for low-carb diet trends!
There is something special about food traditionally made for holidays. Even though you could make it at any time of the year, you don’t because it would just be all sorts of wrong to do so.
What do you mean you didn’t make the sourdough starter I told you about? What were you waiting for? A shortcut? Oh.
My dad grew up on homemade bread. Even though my grandparents could have easily bought bread from the store, my grandma chose to bake her own. Definitely a Depression Era survivor. I remember eating sandwiches made from that delicious bread when I was younger. She would even occasionally save the heels, break them into small pieces, then let them dry out. These would become tidbits that we would take to a local park to feed the geese and ducks with. One of those geese once decided to show its appreciation by biting me in the butt. You know, roast goose makes a lovely Christmas feast.