We all go through seasons in our lives that require us to reemerge from a period of bleakness, sadness, or lack of inspiration. Spring invites reemergence and this episode draws inspiration from the season and an unexpected burst from our garden as we talk about the growth that lays dormant waiting for the right moment to thrive.
Listen to the Feed Your Fire podcast episode on YouTube, Apple or Spotify.
Get recipe.
Episode Transcript:
Feed your Fire, a podcast from Kim Baker Studios that dives into self-discovery and personal fulfillment through the shared experience of food.
I'm Kim Baker, founder of Kim Baker Foods, and this is Feed Your Fire. It's a bit of a mash up discussion about life topics and food. Sometimes we'll cook, other times we'll just eat, but in each episode, we'll share stories and have a conversation that pushes us further in our relationship with ourselves and other people to us, food is the connective tissue in life, and it's so much fun. Feel free to just listen or cook with us.
The month of April opens the doors to spring. We have longer days, and this bright, fresh air. It elicits this idea of re-emergence. We've all known chapters or seasons where we ourselves have re-emerged. Where we might have walked through a time that felt cold and barren, unforgiving, uninspiring, where our potential lay dormant and we weren't really able to thrive today. We're going to talk about stepping in to that re-emergence, and we're going to draw some inspiration from our garden.
If you subscribe to ideas of quantum physics, then everything and every possibility already exists and what has yet to occur in our reality is simply beyond our consciousness, our awareness. I often try to envision myself pushing beyond the veil that separates me from what I don't yet see possible. It’s almost like I'm walking into a room in some bohemian art space that has those beaded curtains, and while it partitions the space, I can actually reach through it. There's nothing really preventing me from moving beyond it.
In many ways, the re-emergence that happens in spring is really predictable. It's like the tulips and the daffodils that bloom year after year. Or one day you walk out your front door and you see that your grass has grown eight inches overnight. And yet, other times, the re-emergence catches you completely off guard. Just this past week, I walked outside to my garden beds that are still filled with pine leaves and pine cones, and what I saw really surprised me. The seeds that I had planted in early fall that never took were actually just now making an appearance. And so here I am two seasons later, with more than 12 heads of Romaine, all different types of kale, arugula, beets, and even one lone carrot from the work that I had long ago done and forgotten about. What a lovely reminder that it's not always evident, but the energy that we're putting into something can lay dormant underground until conditions are just right, and they can bloom unexpectedly.
And so with that in mind, we're going to go back to our roots, preparing a spring focaccia using vegetables from my quote, unquote, surprise garden, and drawing inspiration from the transformation of a rising yeast dough. There are few things in the kitchen that are more magical than seeing dough rise. The flour and water literally come to life and are transformed into something that grows in front of your eyes.
The first thing that we need to do is activate our yeast, and so this needs a little bit of warmth, so I take about a quarter cup of water and I just microwave it until it reaches between 110 and 115 degrees. It does need to be within that range to activate the yeast and not be so hot as to kill it. Now take a packet of yeast and put it in that warm water and let it sit with just a pinch of sugar so it's being fed along the way, and you'll start to see that yeast bubble. And if you don't, then you need to start again, because your yeast is no longer alive and we do need to start with yeast that's living. I let it sit for, I don't know, maybe 15 minutes, and it gets very frothy and will pretty much triples in volume. Now while that's resting, let's put some flour and a pinch of salt in a mixing bowl with a dough hook, and when the yeast is ready, we're going to add that frothy mixture in with warm water.
Start with three and a half cups of flour and about a cup of water, adjusting as necessary,
add the water slowly, so that you're in control of how much you're adding in. We want a smooth dough that comes together but isn't sticky. Now, once you've mixed that together and used the dough hook to knead it briefly, put it on the counter with a little sprinkle of flour and just work it with your hands into a nice smooth ball. And that is sort of the equivalent of seeding a garden. We're going to take that ball of dough and put it in a bowl that's been brushed with olive oil, cover it with a towel, and just let it rest for a few hours, and then I just let it do its magic.
A re-emergence can be a little bit disorienting at times, and maybe even initially off-putting. We may not always even be aware that we had been operating in survival mode, underground, hunkering, saving our energy, and then all of a sudden we're presented with sunshine, and we may not always know what to do with it. We might need a moment to sort of stretch our legs and catch our breath, to really soak in this new environment where growth is possible.
And then there's the fear of moving past a state that we've become comfortable in. I am in a new relationship that's actually very lovely and beautiful, and I'm often still in shock that this is something that's in my life, that's actually good for me, that I don't need to be afraid of it. It's not going to harm me, and to be open to that re-emergence, and it takes a little getting used to and a sense of surrender.
If you look up the word surrender and the dictionary, it's not very positive. It's about really dishonor and disgrace and abandoning oneself and acting almost as a prisoner. And there's an important distinction between that surrender and the one I'm talking about now, which is the surrendering of fear, the surrendering of what's holding you back, so that you can step into your full potential, that you can step into your spring.
Our dough has been resting now for a few hours, and it's risen beautifully. And so I'm going to take that dough and I'm going to stretch it with my hands, leaning into that elasticity. Then I'm going to put it on a sheet pan that I'm dousing with a good quality olive oil, and I'm going to push the focaccia dough into the corners of that sheet pan so that it's kind of edge to edge.
Now this work is not hard, but it does take patience and growth takes time. So we're going to let this dough rest for maybe another 30 minutes just to give it a chance to settle, and then I'm going to drizzle it generously with some more olive oil, and I'm going to poke it with my fingers to create these pockets of air. Then I'm going to top the focaccia with some thinly sliced onions and sprinkle of salt and some parmesan cheese.
I'm also going to grab some stalks of asparagus that I have been growing for three years. It is the ultimate test of patience to grow asparagus, and this is the first year that I have a harvest, so I'm just going to chop it up and sprinkle it over top.
Now I'm going to put the focaccia in an oven that's the hottest I can possibly get it to. For me, that's convection 500 degrees, and I'm going to let it bake for about 15 minutes. I want the bottom to be crispy, but I don't want it to burn.
And while that's in the oven, I'm going to grab some of these beautiful greens that came to me from the work that I had done last year. So I have some kale, and I have some arugula and I have some romaine. I'm going to make a mixed salad with those greens. Toss it with a little bit of lemon juice, olive oil, salt, pepper and a little bit more Parmesan cheese. And when that focaccia comes out of the oven, I'm going to sprinkle it on top. It will wilt slightly, but still stay crisp. And then, as a final touch, I'm going to drizzle the entire thing with a little bit of hot honey.
While the seasons in our life don't correspond with the calendar, they do usually correspond with our relationships, and that includes the relationship with ourselves. These seasons can be long or they could be short, they could be warm or they could be cold. They can weather us or enliven us. But like the plants in my garden that survived the winter, we can adapt. We can find ways to store our energy and re-emerge. And that re-emergence can be as delicious as this focaccia with the greens that I planted two seasons ago, and I'm just now enjoying.
I've made this focaccia for my son, who just got back from his spring break, and now we'll share a slice of the season together. Until our next episode. I say so long.
Feed Your Fire, where food nourishes growth.