Hankering for English Muffins

I have a strong recollection of family vacations from childhood where we would occasionally check in to a local motel for a few days. My sister and I would head straight for the double queen beds to do our room inspection ritual of bouncing on and between beds before settling down to a quieter activity. Given our typically demure track records our parents would humor us a few bounces at the expense of our neighboring guests, even if we arrived in the late evening. For me, part of the excitement of staying away from home was the complimentary continental breakfasts awaiting us in the lobby in the morning. Somehow the combination of being on vacation and the buffet display of breakfast items made english muffins, in particular, a rare treat. I would always enjoy them split and toasted with a thin layer of butter and blackberry jam. These muffins trump bagels and toast any day.

A few days ago I developed a hankering for english muffins again (I had rediscovered the joy of english muffin mornings during my previous semester abroad) and was set on using my (neglected) sourdough starter to satisfy my craving. After browsing through a handful of recipes and english muffin commentary [sourdough / not sourdough / sourdough] I summarized my findings into a few main steps:

- basic ingredients: sponge (bread flour, sourdough starter, milk or water), additional bread flour, a leavener (baking soda), flavor (salt and a sweetener - sugar or honey)
- a long rise to develop flavor and texture
- rolling and cutting the muffins
- griddle cooking
* I ended up mainly sticking with the Sourdough recipe from The Fresh Loaf



Homemade english muffins are considerably easier to make than other yeasted breads but equally enjoyable to consume. Some recipes result in a sticky but stiff dough that is floured and cut into rounds with a round cookie-cutter, while others are soft and wet enough to require ring molds on the griddle. I followed the cookie-cutter version which yielded a slightly dense muffin filled with good nooks & crannies when fork-split. Adding the sourdough achieved a subtle, nearly sweet flavor that wasn't reminiscent of a hardy sourdough whatsoever, but hey it was delicious.



I savored my first english muffin hot off the griddle, spread with butter and a light sprinkle of sugar. As my friends abroad pointed out to me this is apparently not a common combination, but I grew up on it and find nothing else quite so satisfying. Next time I'll aim for a fluffier texture and a stronger sourdough flavor.

Organic, Pear-sized Figs

There are many legendary spots around town I've yet to visit as a Berkeley student (and am constantly teased about this by a particular friend). The Rose Garden and Botanical Gardens are still on my list, but I finally managed to hike my way up to the "big C."

Over the weekend I was able to check off another destination from my list when L. brought D. and I to the Student Organic Garden. From outside the fence overgrown with vegetation it's hard to make out the garden. However once inside, we faced a rambling overgrowth of heavy sunflowers drooping with half-eaten seeds, squash beds, blackberry brambles, several strawberry patches, colorful sprays of rainbow chard, and a sharp, ubiquitous scent of mint. It was obvious that the whole place needed a bit of upkeep, but it was still managing to produce edibles despite this. Smack in the center of the garden was a stately fig tree, which we naturally migrated towards for shade. I was taken aback when I saw figs budding from the branches like dark green water balloons. They ranged from the size of golf balls to small Barlett pears; I've never seen anything like it. About half the figs were spitting with nectar from their seams and were indescribably sweet, fresh, and perfectly soft. We harvested well over $50 worth of fruit (total head count 84 figs), not including the dozen or so we ate on site.



What to do with such a lovely, unexpected find? I am normally too protective of certain favorite fruits to cook with them - persimmons, figs, peaches, papayas - their flavor, texture, and image are ideally captured as fresh fruit. They're also expensive to experiment with. However having foraged more figs that we could manage to eat fresh, D. suggested I make jam from the overly ripe ones (about a quarter of the harvest). Nothing's easier than mashing figs together with some sugar and a splash of water, a quick boil before simmering for two to three hours until it reaches a thick consistency. I like mine more saucy than jammy so I omitted pectin called for in some recipes. I also added a quarter of a vanilla bean in towards the end for good measure. Some recipes call for cinnamon and / or a touch of lemon juice if desired, but I wanted to maintain the purest fig flavor possible.



The next morning I enjoyed a breakfast of plain yogurt topped with crumbles of soft chèvre and a few teaspoons of the fig sauce. I experienced the figs on a whole new level with this combination. The tangy chèvre was enhanced by the condensed sweetness of the figs and its small chunks contrasted with the creaminess of the yogurt. I made a second serving after finishing one small bowl and decided to have this dish for dessert later on in the week.

Other plans for the remaining figs:
- Crusty bread smeared with goat cheese and topped with fresh figs
- Goat cheese tart baked with halved figs
- Fromage blanc bavarian cake with fig sauce - recipe from the Tartine Cookbook