
Chicago has been murmuring with whispers of the coming of Fall. An unseasonably chilly week (it's still August in the midwest, mind you, we should all be sweating so much we can't even stand up) had people breaking out sweaters and donning socks. This sudden shift had a surprising effect on my emotions! With the first crisp morning last week I tingled with excitement and sentimental longing for my favorite season, yet an opposing sense of fear clenched in my chest. My anxiety, I realized, stemmed from a fear of the always fleeting Fall turning too quickly into Winter (lest we forget, this is where I live). What an odd sensation to feel fearful of the end of something that has not even begun! In an effort to savor the ephemeral beauty, quietness, intimacy, and introspectiveness of Fall this year, I am making it my goal to pursue the sensations, emotions, smells, tastes, and feelings that I associate with the season. I want to experience them slowly and let them languidly linger in my body. As John Keats puts it in his poem "To Autumn," I want to watch "the last oozings hours by hours." I am going to put rosemary and pears in everything, drink whisky in cider for breakfast, and wear so many earthy-toned sweaters that I won't know what to do with myself. Maybe not, but I am damn well going to make this Fall feel long and glorious.
The coming of fall makes my mind immediately rush back to my year in Ireland. The cold, crisp air that smelled strongly of peat moss fires, a smell that would cling to my hair and dance around me long after I had gone inside; the heavy autumn light that cast dramatic shadows from the colorful trees; the smoke that billowed out of chimneys and danced with the misty air around as I watched from my balcony with a hot cup of coffee; and, most of all, I think of bread. The warm, hearty, complex, nutty, simple loaves that changed my life. Irish brown bread is a true art. Irish brown bread is that which makes you leave behind two perfectly good pairs of shoes so that you have room in your luggage to bring back three loaves nestled amidst your clothing.
Irish brown bread and soda bread are intimidating to recreate in an American kitchen. From the fact that our flour is wildly different to the fact that our country does not look like this, it feels like a bit of an uphill battle, but I wanted to give it a go! And what good is a warm, crusty loaf of brown bread without soup to go with it? I kept things light enough for it still being August and made a carrot ginger coconut soup that was bright and delicious.
The coming of fall makes my mind immediately rush back to my year in Ireland. The cold, crisp air that smelled strongly of peat moss fires, a smell that would cling to my hair and dance around me long after I had gone inside; the heavy autumn light that cast dramatic shadows from the colorful trees; the smoke that billowed out of chimneys and danced with the misty air around as I watched from my balcony with a hot cup of coffee; and, most of all, I think of bread. The warm, hearty, complex, nutty, simple loaves that changed my life. Irish brown bread is a true art. Irish brown bread is that which makes you leave behind two perfectly good pairs of shoes so that you have room in your luggage to bring back three loaves nestled amidst your clothing.
Irish brown bread and soda bread are intimidating to recreate in an American kitchen. From the fact that our flour is wildly different to the fact that our country does not look like this, it feels like a bit of an uphill battle, but I wanted to give it a go! And what good is a warm, crusty loaf of brown bread without soup to go with it? I kept things light enough for it still being August and made a carrot ginger coconut soup that was bright and delicious.




Whole-wheat Irish Soda Bread with Raisins (Spotted Dog)
Adapted from The New York Times
(Note: recipe author Martha Rose Shulman points out that traditional spotted dog is made with white flour and does not always include an egg. However, she makes hers with a mixture of whole-wheat and white flour. I, however, prefer an even darker, nuttier soda bread, and left out the white flour entirely, using mostly whole-wheat flour and subbing 1/2 cup with wheat germ for an even nuttier, grainier taste and chewy texture. I also baked mine in a well oiled cast-iron skillet, which in my mind is the most perfect place for a loaf of bread to bake.)
ingredients:
- 3 scant cups whole-wheat flour
- 1/2 cup wheat germ
- 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
- 1 teaspoon salt
-2 teaspoons coconut palm sugar (or packed brown sugar, I'm sure that liquid sweeteners would work as well, they just might affect the amount of liquid needed)
-3/4 cup, tightly packed raisins, any variety or a mix (or more to taste)
-1 egg
-1 1/2 cups buttermilk (honestly I went to three grocery stores and they were all out of small cartons of buttermilk, so I used Bulgarian-style plain yogurt, which has an equivalent texture and tang )
instructions:
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Oil a cast iron skillet and place it in the oven to heat up. In a large bowl, mix together flour, wheat germ, baking soda, salt and brown sugar. Add raisins and toss mixture together to coat raisins with flour. In a small bowl, beat the egg and add buttermilk/yogurt. Make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour the wet ingredients into the well. Working from the center of the bowl in concentric clockwise circles, with hands or a rubber spatula stir to combine. This should take about a half a minute at most, the secret to this bread is to mix it as little as possible! The dough will be pretty sticky and ragged. Dust a clean surface with flour and turn the dough onto it, quickly and gently patting it into an oval shape. Place in your preheated iron skillet (alternatively you can place it on a parchment-covered baking sheet. Using a dampened knife, cut a deep cross across top of bread. Turn the oven down to 400 degrees and bake for roughly 45 minutes, until the loaf is dark brown and cracked on the top and makes a hollow sound when tapped. Remove from oven and let cool in the skillet for 5-10 minutes. Remove the loaf and wrap it loosely in a kitchen towel (optional, this helps soften the crust) and let cool completely (yeah, right. Dig in!). Slather with butter and a pinch of salt, and you've got yourself a slice of perfection.
Carrot Ginger Coconut Soup
Adapted from the Kitchn
(*Note: I tasted the soup after following the recipe and it was a bit to strong in the curry/spicy flavor for my tastes, so I added a big spoonful of raw honey and a bit more water and let the soup reduce quite a bit longer so it had a sweetness that balanced the flavors of the carrots and the spice of the curry and also helped thicken the soup.)
ingredients:
-2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil or coconut oil
-1 yellow onion, roughly chopped
-1 pound carrots, roughly chopped
-2 cups vegetable stock
-1 can coconut milk (the recipe called for full-fat but all I had in the pantry was light coconut milk, which worked, although probably yielded a slightly thinner, less rich soup than full-fat)
-1 1/2 tablespoons freshly chopped ginger
-1 tablespoon curry powder
-1/2 teaspoon chili flakes
-Raw honey to taste
-Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions:
Heat the oil in a large soup pot and sweat the onions on medium heat, until they become translucent, about 7 minutes. Add the carrots and cook for another 5 minutes. Add in the stock and coconut milk and about a can's worth of water. Add the ginger, curry powder and chili flakes. Put a lid on the pot and cook until the carrots are softened, about 10 or 15 minutes. When carrots are soft, carefully blend the soup in batches in a food processor or blender and puree until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Return the soup to the pot and add a spoonful of raw honey and a splash of water, if needed. Turn the heat on high and allow some of the extra liquid to evaporate and the soup to thicken. When the soup has reduced to your desired thickness, serve garnished with the toppings of your choice (I went with simple chives, but I think a big dollop of greek yogurt or a drizzle of tahini would be an excellent match as well!)
I leave you with my all-time favorite autumnal poem. Rilke's words describe the feeling that Fall fills me with much better than I ever could:
"Day in Autumn"
by Rainer Maria Rilke
After the summer's yield, Lord, it is time
to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials
and in the pastures let the rough winds fly.
As for the final fruits, coax them to roundness.
Direct on them two days of warmer light
to hale them golden toward their term,
and harry the last few drops of sweetness through the wine.
Whoever's homeless now, will build no shelter;
who lives alone will live indefinitely so,
waking up to read a little, draft long letters,
and, along the city's avenues,
fitfully wander, when the wild leaves loosen.
"Day in Autumn"
by Rainer Maria Rilke
After the summer's yield, Lord, it is time
to let your shadow lengthen on the sundials
and in the pastures let the rough winds fly.
As for the final fruits, coax them to roundness.
Direct on them two days of warmer light
to hale them golden toward their term,
and harry the last few drops of sweetness through the wine.
Whoever's homeless now, will build no shelter;
who lives alone will live indefinitely so,
waking up to read a little, draft long letters,
and, along the city's avenues,
fitfully wander, when the wild leaves loosen.



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