Category Archives: Life

Yeah, the Gryfe’s obsession continues. The bagels, they’re unbeatable. But have I mentioned the pizzas? The little, six-inch round, plain cheese pizzas made from the very same bagel dough, a (very) little sauce, and a sprinkling of cheese? They come in bags of six, fresh from the ovens, and when you’re 10 or so and you pick up a bag at the bakery, you’re lucky to have four left by the time you make it the two blocks back to the house.

I spent a part of every summer until I was about 17 in Toronto, and most of those summer days, I ate one or two Gryfe’s pizzas for my lunch. If we were lunching in, my grandmother took a couple out of the freezer, warmed them in the toaster oven, and served them to me on rough, brown paper towels. The pizzas were so hot I could barely hold them, but I could still eat one in about three minutes flat. If we were dining out (most days, this meant lunch at the Glen Shields Country Club, where my sister and I swam all day and my grandmother and her friends sunned, talked, and played mah jong), I would eat them room temperature, right out of the bag, poolside.

My uncles derided me for my love of these so-called pizzas. I didn’t care. I knew what real pizza was (heck, I lived in Chicago in those days) and I knew these weren’t “real”, but they were beyond that for me. A perfect taste. A taste that still conjures carefree summer days.

Which brings me back to the present. While browsing the Gryfe’s web site the other month, I noticed that they were selling some of their baked goods in other stores, including a few in the States. Mostly, they were selling muffins (never tried them, maybe never will), but the web site also said they were selling FROZEN PIZZAS at, among other places, The Butcherie, in Brookline, MA.

The Butcherie is a kosher grocery store, not all that far from where my sister lives, so you can bet we made a little visit when we were last in Boston. Did they have them? Oh, you bet they did, and now, so do I.

In the box:

And warmed up:

I’ll admit right away that they don’t taste exactly the same as they do right from the store, but nothing ever could. They do, however, taste much better than the ones I’ve smuggled across the border and frozen myself. In fact, these taste darn good – almost as good as having one right from my grandmother’s fridge or freezer.

Six come in a box. Amazingly, I still have four left. This is because, unlike some sisters I have, I don’t live close to The Butcherie and I have to conserve my pizzas. As if to rub salt in the wound, my sister recently reported that her local Whole Foods is now selling these pizzas: UNfrozen.

*sigh*

Well, we have a beautiful view. We can’t have everything.

Maybe it’s because my paid work never produces anything that I can hold in my hands at the end of the week. Or maybe it’s the time of year when there’s more daylight and more energy and it seems like there’s more time to do things. Or maybe it’s something else. Whatever the reason, I’ve been busy for the past few days doing things that result in a tangible something that I can taste, smell, or feel.

For starters, on Saturday, I made some bread. Back in April, on the (very fine) recommendation of my sister, I bought myself a copy of Peter Reinhart’s The Bread Baker’s Apprentice.

And on Saturday night I started the dough for his recipe of pain a l’ancienne, a slow, cold proofing recipe for baguettes. We shaped and baked this bread on Sunday morning, and you can see pictures of the process in this slide show.

Our first try turned out very, um, delicious. The flavor was very complex and tasty, and the crust and crumb were just about exactly what we’d hoped for. I’m going to try this bread again later this week. The wonderful thing about this recipe is that you mix the dough the night before, and then just shape and bake the next morning. The results are tremendous, but the amount of work involved is really minimal. We hardly broke a sweat except for the parts that involved quickly opening and closing the oven door to add water or spray to create the steam. I can easily imagine making fresh baguettes for a brunch or dinner party and not have the bread be the entire meal.

Buoyed by that experience, I felt ready to tackle a sewing project with Hyla. She had recently noticed the cover of the latest Craft: magazine, which showed a set of darling little felt cats:

Hyla and I decided that a couple of these would make a nice birthday gift for a friend of hers who is also obsessed with cats and kittens. Hyla made me a shopping list

and I bought the stuff, and then we did a trial run last night by making one kitty. She’s named it “Picel”, which is pronounced as “pickle”.

On Sunday, I had also made some pie dough (from my current favorite recipe, from the Baking with Julia book), so yesterday afternoon (while glue was drying on Picel’s whiskers), I made an apple pie.

Of course, somewhere along the way, we have either lost or broken all of our pie dishes. I don’t know how it happened. I remember making an apple pie for Thanksgiving. Where did that pan go? Not to be found in our kitchen, that’s for sure. I had the dough all ready, and the apples cut and stewing in their sugar and spice. Hmmmm. How about a square baking pan?

And thus, the birth of the square pie, or, as we like to call it, squie:

It tasted great, and the corners are excellent – a little extra flaky crust and all that gooey apple-ness.

What’s next? I’m not sure, but I’m thinking it will involve a bed or couch, a stack of books, and very little movement.