Pohani kruh - French toast - Pane fritto

Za doručak mi je najbolji, onako svježe prženi s pjenicom ulja po korici…a kad prsti ostanu masni i ušećereni, moraju se polizati, moraju!

Pohani kruh, supice, prženice, svaki kraj ima svoje ime, mi smo ga zvali jednostavno pohani kruh.

Svaka zemlja pak ima svoje ime, svi ga pripremaju na sličan ali jedinstveni način. Skoro svi, jer neki se ipak čude kako stari kruh može “doći k sebi” i postati prava delicija.

Netko najprije kruh umače u mlijeko, netko mlijeko uopće ne koristi. Ja najviše volim kad se jaja i mlijeko skupa smute, pa nda kriške kruha jednolično upiju smjesu, lijepo se napušu dok se peku i postanu mekane kao kolač.

Kad od doručka (zabunom) ostane koja kriška, onda je osiguran i desert za ručak ili za večeru, ako ga do večere netko krišom ne pojede kad osjeti prazninu u stomaku. Taj netko nije tako kompliciran kao ja, pa ga jede i hladnog. Ja ipak više volim kad mi on malo “dođe k sebi”, pa ga obavezno podgijem, jer mi tako više paše!

Raženi kruh s kestenom - Rye bread with chestnuts - Pane di segale con le castagne

Koliko puta sam već krenula pisati o raženom kruhu, a isto sam toliko puta i stala, jer nikako da ga zarežem kako treba! Tj. kruh se digne, izvrnem ga u posudu za pečenje, zarežem ja njega, ali mi taj rez nakon pečenja još uvijek nije onakav kako sam si ga zamislila, pa moram još par puta trenirati prije nego vam napišem taj recept, recept za raženi kruh. I tako ja raženi kruh jedino uspijem uslikati dok se odmara u košari za dizanje, dok je onako mjehurićav i nabrekao. Stigla sam do te faze recepta.

A recept je doslovno spreman, isproban i uspješan. Kažu: strpljen, spašen! Tako je to i sa mnom i s kruhom. Trebam još malo strpljivo čekati pravi trenutak, a u međuvremenu ću uvijek nešto drugo peći. A moje “nešto drugo” je ovaj put opet bio kruh. I opet je u njemu bilo raženog brašna i bio je taman i mekan i ukusan….i u njega sam strpala ostatke kestena od prethodnog posta.

Whole wheat bread with walnuts - Pane integrale alle noci - Integralni kruh s orasima

This time the story begins from its end. The story begins when the hot and sweet smell starts to fill my kitchen. Its sound is dull and echoing. The crust is rumbling and crisp. When all these things happen, the bread is ready. It doesn't matter if it's simple white bread, or some of those coloured strange breads that I like to bake when I find some inspiring natural dye, the most beautiful moment is when I divide the smoking and hot breathing bread. I look at it searching countless cavities that have trapped the air, same cavities that I was searching while it was raising, still and pampered under the blanket to warm its rest.
Because I like to spoil my bread, I gently place it in its bowl, I let him breath and grow. It has his special place protected from the wind and air flows. It has its own blanket and its feather pillow...

Nettle bread - Pane alle ortiche - Kruh s koprivama

I have three simple wood boards that I've brought home from a local carpenter. He wanted to scrap one old long board, so I asked him to cut it in three pieces, I removed all the dirt from them and washed them with water and soap. Now I can put all the food on my boards so that after shooting that food can be eaten. Wasting food, or wasting stuff in general is something I dislike.

My wooden boards are irregular and I always have some problems to arrange them in the proper way. Under every board I have to fit pieces of cardboard or newspapers to lift them up or down. In this way I get flat and almost equal surface, but they will never be totally aligned. This is the biggest problem I have when arranging the set. All the rest is pure fun and joking with light and shadows!

My props collection is poor (don't say this to Mr. M, he definitively disagree with me!), better to say, I use poor collection of props. Glamor is not my thing, I prefer empty scene and a lot of air all around.

Pita bread, the story about trees and wheat - Pane pitta, la storia di alberi e di grano - Pita, priča o drveću i žitu

Long time ago, when I was a child, I went with my family to a journey. We have traveled from the northern Croatian cost, through the nearest mountainous hinterland up to the biggest and most important city in Croatia - Zagreb, but we have traveled ahead through the beautiful countryside where my grandparents lived in a quiet village so similar to thousends of small villages scattered tidily in the flat and rich Croatian countryside. It was so, so long time ago, when hours didn't ran so fast and there were time for everything. Life was simple and easy, people were never late and knew how to enjoyed the life!

So we stopped for a visit to my grandparents only for few days before we went away and continued our journey to Belgrade, the capital city of what once has been my homeland - beautiful, united and proud ex-homeland. Years ago this country tragically disappeared...but this is another long and very complicated story to tell.

Our journey was long, but nothing forced us to arrive to our destination too quickly...and we offten stopped for a break. In those days the high-way was not so fast and crowded, it was a bit larger and straight then the ordinary roads and we have traveled slowly and relaxed.

We gradually entered into the region of Slavonia and we traveled in the shade of big, awesome oak trees. This was the majestic Spačva forest. Suddenly we stopped at this lovely motel surrounded by the barrel-shaped bungalows and the image of those small round huts with sloping roofs remained fixed in my memory. The forest is still there, full of those ancient trees hiding stories of yesteryear!
If you speak about hardwood in my country, you don't have to mention its name, it always comes to the oak wood! Oak wood for enormous wine barrels and small brandy kegs. Oak wood for parquet and furniture. All that need to be lasting and strong was build from the oak wood...in the past and nowadays.
Few months ago I remembered again this journey we did together long time ago, it happened that I've discovered twelve-dots.com  and their beautiful and so essential design. And when my new cuttingboard arrived it was natural to write few words about majestic Croatian woods and oak trees and to bake some sort of bread. Oak trees and golden wheat are the essence of the vast region of Slavonia. Art and crafts are coming back to their old origins offering the beauty to the world!

Chestnut bread - Pane di castagne - Kruh od kestena

Walking in the forest is so therapeutic for my soul, it removes the melancholy of these autumn days. It's a joy to breathe fresh and moist air. The scent of musk and mushrooms is so sweet and pleasant and the rustle of leafs and branches under my foots is the only sound I can hear around. The slowly movemente of trees is just a reaction to air fluctuation, but it's so soft and subtle.

I love my "new" forest, I always need to have the forest close to me. In this place I find the peace of mind. It's amazing how similar my Italian and my Croatian forests are. Same trees, same humus, same scent, same fruits....chestnuts, rosehips and plenty of mushrums under bronzed leafs.

Another thing I find so therapeutic is keading the bread, touching the warm dough and smelling  the warm perfume of the fresh baked bread. And while I was walking in the forest harvesting chestnuts, I was thinking about this bread, rustic bread made of these sweet fruits. And I couldn't wait long before making it. And it was really good and tasty. I almost didn't have time for taking pictures of it, because autumn afternoons (especially weekends!) are often dark and grey. But the real excuse is, that we broake it and eat it still smoking hot!