A Taste of Ethiopia

I might have mentioned, Gentle Reader, that I'm interested in trying Ethiopian food after reading about its influence and flavor similarities to Indian food. I'm ashamed to admit that the interest isn't strongly compelling, as there's an Ethiopian restaurant not too far from Chez Boeckman-Walker that I've known about for some time but haven't yet found the time to go there.

Since I can't get motivated to get to a restaurant, I've even bookmarked a few recipes with alleged Ethiopian roots, but I haven't made a single one. I don't know why. Maybe I'm too circumspect of their authenticity, seeing as how I found them in Cooking Light, which does highlight ethnic dishes occasionally but, like Cook's Illustrated, tends to make them more suitable for the fat- and sugar-loving typical American's palate.

But finally I've broken my Ethiopian drought (ooh, bad choice of words--"We Are the World" and all that), and it wasn't for any main dish. And the authenticity of the recipe is highly circumspect, coming as it does from Donna Rathmell German's The Bread Machine Cookbook II. But the other night I was overwrought and stressed and needed to soothe myself, and nothing calms my monkey mind like working in the kitchen.

Ethiopian Honey Bread5/8 C water
2 T vegetable oil
3 T honey
1/2 t salt
1 t ground coriander
1/2 t ground cinnamon
1/8 t ground cloves
2 1/4 C bread flour
3 T nonfat dry milk
1 1/2 t yeast

1. Add ingredients to bread machine in the order recommended by the machine's manufacturer.
   
2. Select the Sweet or Basic cycle on the machine.
   
3. Press Start.

Yield: One 1-pound loaf

Nutritional Info
Do you really expect this, Gentle Reader? After more than a dozen bread posts, do you honestly expect this information?

Which begs the question of why I keep adding this subhead to bread posts. Yeah, that's a good question. Damn my compulsive editor's need to keep entries consistent!

The Faudie's Futzings
No futzings to report, Gentle Reader, that might really matter. Instead of the Sweet cycle (which none of our brood of machines has) or the Basic cycle (which I assume Donna Rathmell German uses as a synonym for the Normal cycle on our Wellbilts and the White cycles on our Breadmans), I chose the Fruit and Nut cycle on one of our two Breadman TR444 machines. Granted, I had no fruit or nuts to add to the dough later in its preparation, but I thought perhaps that cycle might be better suited for a sweet bread such as this one.

I realized quickly, however, that the Fruit and Nut cycle isn't all that different from the White cycles. Oh well. Live and learn.

With the combination of coriander, cinnamon and cloves, the mixing dough smelled to me much like pumpkin pie and promised warm, carby tastiness to come. And when the husband and I rose from bed half an hour after turning in so that we could yank the loaf from the machine (I started the cycle kinda late in the evening, plus the husband and I go to be between 9:30 and 10 p.m., which I'll readily admit is really, really pathetic), the kitchen became filled with that same aroma. Wonderful!

Blind as a bat without my glasses, I turned the pan over onto the cooling rack, and the loaf popped right out. Peering inside the empty pan, I was delighted to find a hunk of bread that had stuck to the stem for the kneading paddle. Being careful not to burn myself on the hot pan (awfully difficult when you can't see shit), I scraped off as much of that bread as I could and shared with the husband. Oh yes, good things were to come!

The next morning as I prepared breakfast for everyone (including my feline brood, both indoors and out), I unwrapped the loaf from the towel the husband had wrapped it in and took a whiff. The aroma had altered slightly to my senses, smelling now more like gingerbread--which is odd given that the loaf has no ginger. Once the husband trotted out to join me to eat, I sliced off the crust from one end and took a bite. While it wasn't warm, the bread was still carby tastiness.

After offering the husband a bite, I then slathered the remaining crust with honey for a second tasting. The honey was a nice addition but probably not necessary.

In the pale light of a new morning--and with the help of my contact lenses--I discovered something I'd missed the night before: The kneading paddle was gone. It wasn't in the baking pan, and it wasn't stuck in the center bottom of the loaf.

Where the hell was the paddle?

Upon closer inspection of the loaf, I found just a hint of grey metal on one side.

Aha! Paddle found!

The discovery of the paddle on the side of the loaf also explained something I'd observed during the making of the bread. During both kneading cycles, the machine sounded like it was struggling to spin that paddle round and round. When that happens, it indicates the dough needs a wee bit more moisture. In fact, early on in the first kneading, I added half a teaspoon of water to see if that might help.

Apparently it didn't because something caused the paddle to come off its post!

Hmmm.... Guess that's a great excuse to make the bread again soon.