Russian Black Bread & Russian Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup – for the hearty
Zesty Italian Minestrone With Panchetta & Italian Hearth Bread – for the paesan
My Favorite Cream of Leek Soup & French Crusty Rolls – for the sophisticated
Restaurant Style Chicken Vegetable Soup & Old-Fashioned White Bread - for traditional values
Carrot Ginger,Cilantro and Orange Soup & Fresh Pita Bread – for the vegetarian gourmet
Beer'n Beef Irish Stew in a Bread Bowl & Edible Bread Bowls for the waste not, want not, eater
For subscribers, time to start your asap!
October 2004 Regular Issue Recipes
!! Our Free-for-All Monthly Bonus Recipe!!!
Plus….Fried Dough From the Field of Dreams
The Splitter A Fried Hotdog That is Sumptuous!
Big Red Candy Mountain Candy Apples
Fall Classic Cinnamon Raisin Bread
Diner Style Old Fashioned Brown Sugar Oatmeal Apple Crisp
Double Apple Old Time Country Apple Pie
Atwater Market Stuffed Olive Coil Bread
Refrigerator Bran Muffins
Welcome to the Field of Dreams Issue *
* Special dedication below
Dear Fellow Bakers and Friends of BetterBaking.Com,
I know, I know - where is the heartwarming BB cover of autumn apples or funky pumpkins? Isn’t it Canadian Thanksgiving, Succoth, and Halloween? Yes, assuredly. But on the occasion of the World Series approaching, the recent induction of the Jewish Major Leaguers into the Cooperstown Hall of Fame, and tearful farewell to ‘nos amours’, our Montreal Expos, a baking tip of the cap is in order. My ode to the boys of summer follows below. Some other matters of business:
Please visit www.Clabbergirl.com for my feature and recipes from the Cooperstown Jewish Major Leaguers event in They Came, They Played Ball, Now Let’s Eat. Also, visit http://jewishmajorleaguers.org/crdst/the_card_set.htmlwww.Celebrate350.org.
Baking Classes at BB Test Kitchens
As always, the BB test kitchens are in full gear. My Bread Class for October 3rd is full and another flight for bread bakers is being planned, due to demand. If you are in the Montreal area and would like to attend a cozy, baking Sunday, email email@example.com for details. Courses, when held, are on Sundays, 1-3 pm.
The Field of Dreams Issue of BB Essay
Tales from the dugout, with love from the diamond......
I am the first to confess that I know very little of baseball stats, the players, the heroes (beyond their names and odd associated facts, historical or game related). I learned about baseball more through osmosis via father/daughter bonding. We did not play pitch and catch in the backyard. Instead, I spent umpteen Sunday afternoons of my youth, hanging around my dad, as lots of little girls are wont to do (until they hit 11 3/4 years), watching baseball. Can’t say I appreciated what made him so het up about the game but I liked just spending time around him. As a youngest, only girl, to two older brothers, there never seemed to be enough time so baseball Sundays was one guaranteed oasis. I recall asking my dad once, as we watched a dramatic pause, at full count in a Yankees Dodgers game, why, in heaven’s name, did the pitcher just not throw as hard as he could and the batter just hit as hard as he could. “You don’t get it, said my dad, patiently and with a slight smile, ‘it’s about strategy. It’s a duel. It’s psychology’.
Well, in time I did sort of get it and then forgot about that I got it. I abandoned baseball Sundays for baking, books and boys. Until one day, it suddenly I had three boys of my own and because of them, the diamond courted me back.
At first, I put my first-born son in swimming. Fiasco. Then we tried gymnastics and then soccer. Ever notice how the eldest kid is the test drive sibling? Only hockey worked out and Jonathan became a stellar goalie. I was a less than civilized hockey parent I suppose, always the first on at the boards when any of the opposing players went anywhere near my son once the whistle blew and he was down in the crease. I would see those nicking hockey sticks poke away at him and became something of a pit bull. Once somebody did have to hold me from jumping over the boards. It was Jonathan's are-you-insane?glare which was sufficient to curtail my mother tigress gene for years to come.
At any rate, none of these sports seem to ignite either passion nor mastery and one day, simply because hockey only took care of winter exercise, and summer in Montreal is short, sweet and hot and sports are cool, one day, I took my then 7 year old son to a baseball tryout. The minute I took one breath of that heady Eau de April perfume, you know that scent: mud, water, mush, grass, and promise of new things - I remembered, with a jolt: I missed and adored baseball! I loved and missed my dad but alongside that gap was a legacy I never knew. That legacy came flooding back in a second. We had found our sports niche. Our family would be a baseball family.
Jonathan’s first game was less than a Disney film and frankly, while earnest, he was not terrific. But he loved the game, as I did, and his younger brothers who watched him (when not falling through the wood bleachers which is every toddler's delight and every spectator parent's nightmare). I learned to score keep and quickly realized, that it is easier to memorize the Old Testament backwards then it is to know all of baseball’s rules. I watched my son play right field, and right bench for two summers until I complained about his lack of time on the field and chronic assignment in right field.
“You moms all complain but you never DO anything’, was the reply from his coach. That fired me up and the following summer, I did something. I volunteered to be an assistant coach with some father I would be assigned to. At the very least, I felt I could change the way things were done by working away at the order of things (oh woe, politics in sports, amateur and pro) from the inside out.
At that first baseball draft I attended, there were some 60 male coaches and I. I had not a clue how a player draft went and out of the hoards of kids’ names on the roster, each with these numerical markings I ignored the way I do baking instructions, I simply chose boys whose names were familiar. I was thinking: social. Who knew those numbers were skill levels! Each time, I made a pick – the men in the room chuckled. In the end, it turned out there were insufficient coaches and I was asked to step up to the plate, as it were, and be a head coach.
My first team was uneven, imbalanced in talent and skills and mostly, we lacked a competent, experienced coach but we had spirit and spunk. Some teams mocked the Marlins, with our vibrant turquoise uniforms and the ‘mom’ coach but we did a bit of alright. Games that summer always could have gone our way or the other team’s way but somehow, call it luck or destiny, the games went our way and we ended up, after playoffs, in a respectable second place. I still remember picking up Benjamin, then 5 years old, in my arms, in the dug out after the final playoff game, and taking him to the mound to congratulate my pitcher. I used to post signs in our dugout, near my line up, which said: If we win, we go to Pizza Hut. If we lose, we can still go to Pizza Hut.
We had player of the game, most improved player, and play of the game – each game. I had gumballs with baseball sayings, fresh cookies, fried dough, and baseball quizzes. The standing joke in the community was that by summer’s end (I went on to coach for nine years) “Marcy’s teams are so well fed, they can’t run the baseline in any reasonable time nor steal third to home”.
I became adept at cajoling the umpires, out-psyching the other coaches and niggled over silly points and obtuse technicalities, upset the rhythm of the game or the other’s teams momentum. I learn to take note of a quickly setting sun, remember what inning it was and how many pitchers I had left, and what part of my line up was coming up or what part of theirs. I yelped out clipped things like ‘meat of the order’ and shout ‘eat it’ to my catcher before they could waste a throw to second. It became second nature to know what park/what backstop it was, to remember whether a certain field had lights or not, when it was before curfew in July, and remember, which kid, hit left and could be a threat with his consistent double. I figured out that you could put a less strong player on lst base where he could feel like a hero and cover for him with a good pitcher and second base man. I learned to put a poor batter at the beginning of the line up where he would feel noticed and special and see that result in extra effort and an unexpected hit.
My favorite experience? That calling of time, and that measured walk out to the mound to talk to my pitcher and calm him down, signaling in the catcher. It called for a steadiness I never knew I had and gave me more poise than anything else I have ever done. What do you say to a skittish pitcher who is throwing away the game? You say: you are fine. Just relax. Be with me. Watch the catcher. Play ball. And then you walk away as if you have told him some sort of magic….which is often must be because those 20 seconds is all it takes to turn things around.
I am no baseball maven. I still don’t know the plays in anything but the most obvious situations. But I learned how to lead a team to victory – even when it did not believe it could even get on the scoreboard. I saw teams that were talentless but had heart and teams that were all talent and posturing and no heart. I can hit reasonably well but still throw like a girl. I still cannot, even after almost a decade of coaching, lift the team bag by myself.
I would like to say the teams I have had recall my unerring, steady navigation in the dugout and on the field but most remember my baking. Still, I held my own and the biggest satisfaction has been in seeing kids improve and not only my sons, but also other people’s sons and daughters get that chance to get off the bench and out of right field.
Baseball is unlike other sports. The first thing baseball folks will tell you is that it is the only sport where the defense as the ball. It is the only sport where the supposed captain, the pitcher, has his back to the field. But the true captain is the stoic catcher, who sees the entire game unfold.
Unlike other pro sports, baseball did not begin in an arena or indoors. It began on the farm, in the fields. It was every man’s sport. The equipment was minimalist and it was an equal opportunity athletic employer. You do not need to tower to be a good ball player - you can be wiry or heft, 20 or 35 and play pretty good ball.
Unlike other sports, baseball’s heroes are with us for decades, in some cases. Sure, players are traded but they are with the sport, and with us, for many years. Except for the catcher, their faces are not hidden by equipment and every human emotion is plain as ESPN camera can catch it. Yes, the baseballs are no longer hand stitched, cell phones from bullpen to dugout are the new way, and computers measure every pitch and calculate probability but nothing seems to dim the overall magic and heritage.
While other sports have gotten rougher, uglier, and more violent, baseball (and curling) is still not known for chronic body checking nor extreme physical damage. The worse you see is most often middle aged men (the umps) threatening to duke it out with other middle aged men (the team manager). And what other sport does the manager and coaches wear the team uniform with their team players?
Now, I am not saying baseball is perfect. It has neglected some things, and been wholly insensitive to others. It has let us down at times; and let itself down. It is human in all ways. But it is also a sport that in my view, is the level playing field for human drama, politics, and the strength of the human spirit, like no other sport. It is a team sport; it is the sport of a loner. It is about a bat and ball and some guys on a green field; it is about money and greed; it is about youth, aging gracefully and the hope of eternal summer of the spirit. On its best days, it is about fairness and miracles – fairness in just umping, healthy players, and miracles, when, on any given day, you can beat the stats and challenge the skies. Anything, as they say, in baseball, is possible.
Baseball has inspired Broadway (Damn Yankees and Take Me Out), books galore (Shoeless Joe, The Natural) and movies (where do we begin? So many! A League of Their Own, Eight Men Out, Major League, Mr. Baseball, Little Big League, Angels in the Outfield, Rookie of the Year, The Scout, Bull Durham, among a ton of possibilities) and poetry (Mudville) and comedy (Who’s On First, etc.). I even wrote my own kids' novel, Nine Innings, in tribute to a southpaw pitcher, my son Gideon. No other sport has had so much collective tribute, in fields beyond its own.
I love baseball for its longevity and the way it has of making a short summer a longer affair. I love the smell of the field, the baseball mitts that are oiled and pressed under the sofa in my living room. I love the thermoses, the forgotten batter’s gloves and the gleaming aluminum bats that lie idle all winter, quietly waiting for another season, never minding the boys are growing up, confident, as baseball bats are, that their owners will never forget them.
More than all this, I don’t think I have ever played or watched a game where I also did not feel my father’s presence and kind gaze, as the grandsons he never got to see or know, made the diamond their own.
My dad's unwitting blessing was the gift of baseball Sundays, which was bestowed from him to his daughter to a trio of brothers who, at 12, 16, and 19, can still spend hours practicing their rundown. You know that scene in Field of Dreams where Kevin Costner plays toss with his dad – and the two men, albeit father and son, are caught in time, playing ball as equals and peers, with one more opportunity to do something ordinary against that backdrop of extraordinary love? That is the baseball scene that for me that captures the most unspoken of powerful bonds.
Each spring, throughout summer and these days, with the advent of Fall Ball which extends baseball in the 'burbs into Indian summer, when I am not baking, reading Jane Austen in the hammock, you can usually find me in one park or another, or leaving one, driving to another park, another game for another son. How lucky can a girl get? There’s usually sun, there’s coffee, there’s community, and mostly, and most notably, it’s where the boys are.
All of ‘em.
Wishing you fair umping, calls that go your way, perfect baseball weather, and extra innings in all you do,
Writer, Wheat Siren, Baking Mother, Baseball Coach
The Field of Dreams Baking Issue of BetterBaking.com is dedicated:
To the volunteer coaches and parent coaches, in baseball and all sports, the world over. Their contributions are often unsung and more often than not, life altering in a positive way. For every pat on the shoulder of every kid, those spirit has grown immeasurably because of it.
Dedicated to our beloved, departing Montreal Expos, with the warmest thanks from their fans (hey DC, take care of our boys!). Dedicated to the memory of Jackie Robinson, of the Montreal Royals, who honored this city with his performance on and off the field.
Dedicated to the newly established Jewish Major Leaguers Baseball Hall of Fame, in Cooperstown, New York, August 29-30, 2004. Mazel tov and play ball.
Dedicated to the MLB owners but anyone associated with organized baseball that may have forgotten what it is all about and who it is for. May they endeavor to remember the love of the game.
Especially dedicated to the fathers and older brothers and anyone else who has spent hours, often years, pitching to some young hopeful, in some backyard, open field or vacant lot, ignoring a twilight sun and calls for supper...To the audible thunk of the ball, as it gets tossed back and forth, and its steady rhythm of faith and dreams. To each tightly sewn, red-stitched baseball, those seams are taut with indelible memory.
Previous Monthly Essays from A Note From Marcy:
Essays to tickle your funny bone, wake up your inner baker, twinge on your heartstrings, or make you smile and say, ‘I’ve know the feeling; I know the place”. If you missed an essay, or a season in baking or inner sensibility, we invite you to stroll through our archived Notes From Marcy.
- March 2018 A Note From Marcy - March 2018
- February 2018 A Note from Marcy - February 2018
- December 2017 A Note from Marcy - December 2017
- November 2017 A Note from Marcy - November 2017
- October 2017 A Note from Marcy - October 2017
- September 2017 A Note from Marcy - September 2017
- August 2017 A Note from Marcy - August 2017
- July 2017 A Note from Marcy - July 2017
- June 2017 A Note from Marcy - June 2017
- May 2017 A Note from Marcy - May 2017
- April 2017 A Note from Marcy - April 2017
- March 2017 A Note from Marcy - March 2017
- February A Note from Marcy - February 2017
- Betterbaking.com 2017 All Recipes Listing - January 2017
- January 2017 A Note from Marcy - January 2017
- Winter 2016 BB Best Gifts Round-Up - December 2016
- December 2016 A Note from Marcy - December 2016
- November 2016 A Note from Marcy - November 2016
- October 2016 A Note from Marcy - October 2016
- September 2016 A Note from Marcy - September 2016
- August 2016 A Note from Marcy - August 2016
- June 2016 A Note from Marcy - June 2016
- July 2016 A Note from Marcy - June 2016
- May 2016 A Note from Marcy - May 2016
- April 2016 A Note from Marcy - April 2016
- March 2016 A Note from Marcy - March 2016
- February 2016 A Note from Marcy - February 2016
- January 2016 A Note from Marcy - January 2016
- December 2015 A Note from Marcy - December 2015
- November 2015 A Note from Marcy - November 2015
- September 2015 A Note from Marcy - September 2015
- August 2015 A Note from Marcy - August 2015
- July 2015 A Note from Marcy - July 2015
- June 2015 A Note from Marcy - June 2015
- May 2015 A Note from Marcy - May 2015
- April 2015 A Note from Marcy - April 2015
- March 2015 A Note from Marcy - March 2015
- February 2015 A Note from Marcy - February 2015
- January 2015 A Note from Marcy - January 2015
- December 2014 A Note from Marcy - December 2014
- November 2014 A Note From Marcy - November 2014
- October A Note from Marcy - October 2014
- September 2014 A Note from Marcy - September 2014
- August 2014 A Note from Marcy - August 2014
- July 2014 A Note from Marcy - July 2014
- June 2014 A Note from Marcy - June 2014
- May 2014 A Note from Marcy - May 2014
- April 2014 A Note from Marcy - April 2014
- March 2014 A Note from Marcy - March 2014
- February 2014 A Note from Marcy - February 2014
- January 2014 A Note from Marcy - January 2014
- December 2013 A Note from Marcy - December 2013
- November 2013 A Note from Marcy - November 2013
- October 2013 A Note from Marcy - October 2013
- September 2013 A Note from Marcy - September 2013
- August 2013 A Note from Marcy - August 2013
- July 2013 A Note from Marcy - July 2013
- June 2013 A Note from Marcy, Baker's Stash - June 2013
- May 2013 A Note from Marcy - May 2013
- April 2013 A Note from Marcy Baker's Stash - April 2013
- March 2013 A Note from Marcy - March 2013
- February 2013 A Note from Marcy - February 2013
- January 2013 A Note from Marcy - January 2013
- December 2012 A Note from Marcy - December 2012
- November 2012 A Note from Marcy - November 2012
- October 2012 A Note from Marcy - October 2012
- September 2012 A Note from Marcy - September 2012
- August 2012 A Note from Marcy Baker's Stash - August 2012
- July 2012 A Note from Marcy Baker's Stash - July 2012
- May 2012 A Note from Marcy - May 2012
- April 2012 Note from Marcy, Baker's Stash - April 2012
- March 2012 A Note From Marcy - March 2012
- February 2012 A Note from Marcy - February 2012
- January 2012 A Note from Marcy - January 2012
- December 2011 A Note from Marcy, Baker's Stash - December 2011
- November 2011 Note from Marcy Bakers Stash - November 2011
- October 2011 Note From Marcy Baker's Stash - October 2011
- September 2011 A Note from Marcy - September 2011
- August 2011 (1) Note From Marcy - August 2011
- June 2011 Note from Marcy - June 2011
- May 2011 A Note from Marcy, Baker's Stash - May 2011
- March 2011 A Note From Marcy - March 2011
- February 2011 A Note From Marcy, Baker's Stash - February 2011
- January 2011 A Note from Marcy - January 2011
- December 2010 Baker's Stash - December 2010
- November 2010 Baker's Stash - November 2010
- October 2010 Note from Marcy & Baker's Stash - October 2010
- September 2010 Note from Marcy & Baker's Stash - September 2010
- August 2010 Baker's Stash - August 2010
- July 2010 Baker's Stash, A Note from Marcy - July 2010
- June 2010 Baker's Stash - June 2010
- April 2010 BAKER'S STASH - April 2010
- March 2010 Baker's Stash, A Note From Marcy - March 2010
- 2003-2007 PAST ISSUES Note from Marcy & Recipes - February 2010
- January 2010 Baker's Stash - January 2010
- December 2009 Baker's Stash - December 2009
- September 2009 Baker's Stash - September 2009
- April 2009 Bakers Stash - April 2009
- March 2009 Baker's Stash Baking With Mom, Feminist in the Kitchen and some Retro - March 2009
- February 2009 Baker's Recipe Stash - February 2009
- January 2009 Baker's Stash - January 2009
- December 2008 Baker's Stash - December 2008
- November 2008 A Note From Marcy - November 2008
- September 2008 Baker's Stash - September 2008
- A note from Marcy - December 2007
- A Note from Marcy - February 2007 - An Oreo Love Affair
- A Note from Marcy - January 2007 - When Bakers Cook, Recipes deChef
- A Note from Marcy - December 2006 - Shortbread and Other Favorite Things
- A Note from Marcy - November 2006 - Thank Goodness for Pie
- A Note from Marcy - October 2006 - A Salute to Chocolate Chip Cookies
- A Note from Marcy - September 2006 - The Back to School Carrot Cake Issue
- A Note From Marcy - August 2006 - The Sourdough Magic Issue
- A Note from Marcy - July 2006 - The Annual BB Picnic Issue
- A Note from Marcy - June 2006 - The Bountiful Berry Issue
- A Note from Marcy - May 2006 - Pride and Pastry or Tea With Jane
- A Note from Marcy - April 2006 - The Breakfast Baking Issue and Fresh Starts
- A Note from Marcy March 2006 Passion - Gettin' Some - March 2006 - Havana A Heat Wave, Baking with A Latin Beat and The Passion Play
- A Note from Marcy - February 2006 - Memoirs of A Geisha Baking, Valentine’s Sweets
- A Note from Marcy - January 2006 - The You're Toast, A Salute To Slicing Loaves and More
- A Note from Marcy - December 2005 - Bake It Forward, Gift Baking Issue
- A Note from Marcy - November 2005 - Open Hearth Hosting or Guess Who's Coming For Dinner
- A Note from Marcy - October 2005 - It All Happens for a Reason or Sometimes Bread Just Doesn't Rise.....
- A Note from Marcy - September 2005 - Baking By the Code
- A Note from Marcy - August 2005 - The Tao of Pie
- A Note from Marcy - July 2005 - The Journey of the Journal plus Twix Bars!
- A Note from Marcy - June 2005 - A Pastry Chefs Trial by Cheesecakes
- A Note from Marcy - May 2005 - The Frontier Baking Issue/Living Big in a Small Venue
- A Note from Marcy - April 2005 - When Harry Met Salad
- A Note from Marcy - March 2005 - Baking with an Irish Broque; A Romance in the Dairy Queen One Fine March
- A Note from Marcy - February 2005 - She Just Doesn’t Get Him, Valentine’s Day Rebuttal and Cupcakes Galore
- A Note from Marcy - January 2005 - The Art of Changing and Making Space in a New Year
- A Note from Marcy - December 2004 - The Shall We Dance or Shall We Bake, Holiday Baking Issue and an Ode to Dance
- A Note from Marcy - November 2004 - The Bread and Soup Issue and How A Canadian Became Americanized (sort of)
- A Note from Marcy - September 2004 - The Catcher of the Rye Issue, What Falls Away, the Sweet Taste of Forgiveness and Letting Go
- A Note from Marcy - August 2004 - It’s All Greek To Me Issue and The Evils of Multi-Tasking
- A Note from Marcy - July 2004 - The Gone Fishin’ Issue/Summer in the River City, A Baker’s Musical
- A Note from Marcy - June 2004 - The All That Jazz Issue, How To Scat and Improvise in Wheat
- A Note from Marcy - May 2004 - The Bread and Roses Issue, Goddess, Feminist or Feminine…and Fudge
- A Note from Marcy - April 2004 - Waiting for Happy, or If I Won the Lotto
- A Note from Marcy - March 2004 - Meet You in the Bookstore, My Love Affair with Books
- A Note from Marcy - February 2004 - Sweets for the Sweet, a Valentine From the Baker
- A Note from Marcy - January 2004 - How To Eat Right or Resolution 2004 – How Not To Diet
- A Note From Marcy - December 2003 - The Sugar and Spice Issue
- A Note from Marcy - November 2003 - How To Weather the Weather, or Keeping Cozy in Late Fall
- A Note from Marcy - October 2003 (Part 2) - They Laughed When I Got Up To Bake, Hotel School Trials
- A Note from Marcy - September 2003 - Welcome To Wheatland, a baker’s fantasy or Camelot in Flour
- A Note from Marcy - October 2003 (Part 1) - How I Got Into Baking, A Baker’s Beginnings Part 1
- A Note from Marcy - August 2003 - Notes on Homemade Krispie Kreme Doughnuts
- A Note From Marcy - July 2003 - Memories of Summer Music Camp or Baking to Birdland
- A Note From Marcy - June 2003 - How to Play Hooky in Summer, An Urban Adventure
- April 2011 A Note from Marcy, Baker's Stash
- October 2008 Baker's Stash
- May 2010 Baker's Stash
- Archived A Note from Marcy 2003 - 2017
- February 2009 Issue Baking by Heart Copy
- March 2009 Baker's Recipe Stash
- April 2009 Baker's Stash
- Archived Newsletters, A Note from Marcy 2004 - 2017
- 2003-2009 Note from Marcy Archives
- May 2017 Big Product Review Feature
- February 2009 Baker's Stash
- Karine Joncas Cosmetics