Fun with Fermentation 2014

I'm putting this up for those who attended my fermented vegetables session at the Hay River Transition Initiative's 2014 Green and Traditional Skills Day, or anyone else who's interested.

Here are some of my posts dealing with the topic:

Crock-fermented vegetables

Kimchi

Mixed vegetable ferment in a gallon jar

Sauerkraut in jars

Choucroute garnie


And here are the key books in my fermentation library:

The Art of Fermentation, Sandor Katz

Wild Fermentation, Sandor Katz

Wild Fermentation is more practical and recipe-oriented; The Art of Fermentation is encyclopedic.  I reach for Wild Fermentation far more often.

Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning, the Farmers and Gardeners of the Terre Vivante Collective

Fascinating traditional preservation techniques from the French countryside.

The Joy of Pickling, Linda Ziedrich

My go-to book for all sorts of pickles, relishes, chutneys, etc., fermented and otherwise.

That should keep you busy for a while. Go forth and ferment!

My Beautiful Choucroute

(With some technical issues resolved, we carry on....  See bottom for details.)

Choucroute garnie, the classic Alsatian dish of simmered sauerkraut topped with smoked meats and sausages, is not the sort of thing I want to eat every week, or maybe even every month.  Though its name features the fermented vegetable base (choucroute is French for sauerkraut), it's a rich and meat-heavy meal, delectable when properly prepared with best ingredients, and ideal on a cold winter's evening, preferably after a few hours on the ski trails, or working in the woodlot.  We make it with great anticipation, and relish every tangy, porky bite, maybe two to three times each winter.  We make a big pot, even just for the two of us--the leftovers are even better than the first round.

Another thing I love about choucroute is that it's an ideal dish to simmer atop a woodstove. The gentle, even heat slowly renders the sauerkraut savory and tender, with still a bit of bite, and perfectly infuses the cabbage with the flavors of the meats that "garnish" it. There's some time involved in the prep, but once it's all assembled and bubbling quietly away, it's ready when you are.

If you've thought ahead to ferment your own 'kraut, choucroute garnie is a suitable reward for your forethought. You rinse the 'kraut in several changes of water to take away some of the sourness and salt, then you squeeze out as much water as you can so the cabbage is fairly dry. In a big heavy pot you've got some chopped leek, onion, and carrot sweating down in excellent bacon fat (best) or duck fat (just as good) or oil (acceptable). To this you add the squeezed-out 'kraut, then some dry white wine and chicken stock--perhaps a cup of each. I toss in a bay leaf, a couple of whole cloves, three or four crushed juniper berries, a few sprigs of thyme, a few grinds of coarse pepper. Nestle a small piece of excellent bacon in the middle of it, and let it cook, covered, for a good hour. That's the basis, and can be prepared days ahead.

Rillons marinating prior to cooking.

Then on choucroute night, I begin by browning my meats. I had a couple of chunks of our home-smoked bacon, of course, and another homemade meat item, rillons. Rillons are succulent cubes of pork belly that have been cooked a long while in pork fat and duck fat, wine and herbs, very much in the manner of rillettes, except that for rillons the belly cubes are browned first, and left whole at the end, rather than shredded as for rillettes. Both rillons and rillettes are particularly associated with the cochonailles of the Loire valley around the towns of Tours, Amboise, Saumur. Cochonailles means things made from pig; I'll have more to say about this in an upcoming post.

The golden porky loveliness of finished rillons .

The sausage components were purchased--really nice smoked sausage from Pastures A Plenty  via Seward co-op ; and kalberwurst from Louie's Finer Meats of Cumberland, Wisconsin, an institution in west central Badgerland.

After browning the meats I cleaned up the pan a bit--I like my choucroute to stay nice and light in color, and if there's too much brown stuff in the bottom of the pot it turns dark; tasty but aesthetically unappealing, to me. So the pre-simmered 'kraut goes back in the pan, perhaps with another slosh of wine, or just a bit of water to keep it moist. Then the meats are tucked in, and it cooks at a very gentle simmer for at least a half hour, or until you're ready to eat.  Oh, cook some potatoes ahead, and add them to warm in the last twenty minutes or so.

Crusty bread, a glass of riesling or pinot blanc. There it is, my beautiful choucroute:

Text and photos copyright 2012 by Brett Laidlaw
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Re technical issues: When I went into Blogger yesterday to write this post, I found I was unable to type in the main text box. The little twirly daisy symbol, that doohickey that tells you the computer is "thinking", just kept going round and round, never stopped. I could type in the title box, the labels, see a preview--everything but actually type my post. Next day, today, same deal. Fortunately I have a computer genius in the house, and Mary resolved, or circumvented, the problem by installing Google Chrome as my browser. Now all is well, for the time being. Hopefully this will be helpful information if anyone else in blog world encounters this same problem.

2011 Highlights: My Crock

There's still time to get your entries in for the Trout Caviar book giveaway --leave a comment about one of your 2011 LOCAL! food highlights by January 1; be specific, be evocative, regale and entice us!

I'm finding that my 2011 food highlights consist more of things I did than of things I ate--though I'm sure I'll be able to dredge up a memorable taste sensation or two, as well.  Late last winter Mary and I took a drive south from Bide-A-Wee down Wisconsin highway 25 to the river town of Downsville.   There we met potter John Thomas and his wife Kathy Ruggles, shared a cup of tea and talked about the tumultuous political situation engulfing the Badger State (it's worth remembering that the whole occupy phenomenon started with anti-Walker protestors flocking to Madison and the state capitol building).  

We came home with my very first crock, an earthtone beauty that I filled with vegetables mid-summer; it's been fermenting ever since. Now it's filled with cabbage that has become sweet and sour, crunchy and salty--the basis for a wonderful choucroute garni dinner, on the elaborate end, or fabulous hot dog garnish, at its simplest.

Prior to acquiring this gorgeous vessel I'd always done my fermenting in quart jars, and that works just fine. I use the same recipe, either way: for each pound of shredded vegetables--cabbage, kale, beets, turnips, etc.--I add 2 teaspoons of salt. Rub the salt in well, pack the veg in quart jars, or into the crock with a weight on top. Into a cool dark place, and fermentation will start almost immediately. Your vegetables will be nicely sour in a few days, and will continute to gain character as time goes by. After a couple of weeks I usually refrigerate the jars, and there they will keep indefinitely. My crock is sitting on the kitchen counter, which is probably fine in a cool winter kitchen; but I oughta check on it, I guess.

Bonnie Dehn, the "Herb Lady" from the Minneapolis Farmers Market, mentioned the last time I was on the Fresh & Local Show  with her and host Susan Berkson that you can even ferment cabbage in a zip-top bag. Worth a try, though I wouldn't leave the 'kraut in the bag longer than needed to get it sour, for fear of chemicals leaching from the plastic.

Fermenting your own vegetables is one of those age-old means of food preservation that can seem daunting until you try it and see how simple it really is. Trust nature, and your nose. Acquiring a taste for fermented food opens a whole world of gorgeous, pungent variety--some of the most distinctive and delicious foods from around the globe are of the fermented variety.

Text and photos copyright 2011 by Brett Laidlaw

Choucroute Salad

A fringe benefit from preparing the choucroute garnie in the previous post. We had some leftover bacon, sausage, and potatoes. There was a bit of sauerkraut left, too. I made a simple vinaigrette, stirring in the 'kraut, chopped fine, at the end:

2 tsp Leatherwood Vinegary apple wine vinegar
1 1/2 tsp grain mustard
2 Tbsp canola oil
pinch salt
several grinds black pepper
about 2 Tbsp finely chopped leftover sauerkraut

1 link sausage sliced, browned
2 thick slices bacon, cut into lardons, browned
2 boiled potatoes, chunked up, tossed in with the meats to warm
2 eggs, poached
1 small shallot, sliced, fried till crisp in a little butter--optional
Hearty salad greens like frisée

Our co-op had some local, hydoponic salad greens from LaBore Farms,near Faribault, mostly frisée with some purple mustard, tatsoi, that sort of thing. Wash, spin, and dress the greens, saving back a little dressing. Top the greens with the meats and potatoes, drizzle the rest of the dressing around. Top with a poached egg, and give it the gratuitous gourmet garnish of fried shallots, if you please.

I love this kind of bistro dinner salad, topped with a poached egg. Very local, very simple, very delicious.

The local products involved: LaBore Farms greens, home-smoked bacon, homemade sausage from Hidden Stream pork, home-fermented sauerkraut from Midtown Farmers' Market cabbage, Leatherwood vinegar, Schultz organic eggs, Midtown market shallots (still have a few left!), MFM potatoes, homemade bread from all organic Minnesota flours, Hope Creamery butter.

How're we doing?


Text and photos copyright 2009 by Brett Laidlaw

Choucroute

This really is an interesting moment in American culinary history. You have, on the one hand, an explosion of sushi, Thai restaurants taking over as the neighborhood café, fish tacos in fresh warm torillas with mango salsa as commonplace to our young people as the seasoned ground beef in crunchy Old El Paso shells kind were in my youth*.

And then, there are those of us who rhapsodize over sausage and bacon served atop fermented cabbage. Choucroute garnie, simmered sauerkraut served with pork in its several guises--smoked, cured, as sausage--is one of the best known Alsatian dishes. If the 'kraut is treated well, thoroughly rinsed, squeezed dry, gently simmered with good wine and aromatics, and if the meats are best quality, the potatoes good and sweet, it can be transcendent, humble as its individual parts may be--Franco-Teutonic synergy on a plate.

But if the 'kraut is indifferent, too sour, salty, or mushy, the sausage and bacon dull industrial products, it can be an utter gut-bomb, not to put too fine a point on it. It's all in the preparation, and the ingredients.

So let's aim for the former version, the transcendent one. If you can start with homemade sauerkraut, that's half the battle. If you don't have that, you can still make something wonderful. Some German or eastern-european markets make their own and sell it in bulk. Failing that, you may find good quality "artisan" 'kraut in jars in the refrigerated section of the grocery store (near the fresh pickles); and then, the stuff in plastic bags will do, too, if the rest of your ingredients are top-notch. If all you can find is canned 'kraut, though, I would choose a different dish for dinner tonight.

(And here's a little tip: You can help your 'kraut along by adding some finely shredded fresh cabbage. In fact, this is good even if you start with excellent 'kraut.)

When I say "transcendent" in describing choucroute, I mean transcendent in a hearty but surprisingly light way, a reassuring, comforting, but also intriguing sort of way. The cabbage will keep a mild crunch and sourness, but will be enriched by the wine, stock, and bacon, and made aromatic by spices that might surprise you in so Germanic a dish--juniper, cumin, coriander, clove. All that plays off against the meats, rich, salty, and smoky. It really is a wonderful dish, just the thing to buck up one's spirits in these waning (we hope) days of a very long winter.

Which is not to say I would turn up my nose at a nice plate of sushi....


In Alsace this dish is often served with a veritable mountain of meat atop the cabbage, an absurd sort of lollapalooza sundae of fresh and cured sausages, ham, smoked pork shoulder, bacon fresh and smoked. I used just homemade bacon and sausage in this more manageable version for two. Use whatever top quality pork products you can find. A piece of good bacon for simmering in the choucroute is the one thing I wouldn't omit or substitute.

(A confession: The choucroute pictured in this post is not the most beautiful I have ever made. After I browned the sausages and bacon, I thought it would be a good idea to deglaze the pan with a little water and add that juice to the 'kraut. The result tasted fine, but it turned the cabbage dark brown, when what you want is nice whitish 'kraut. A word to the wise....)

Choucroute Garnie
serves two, generously
8 ounces sauerkraut
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1 tsp butter
1 tsp oil (grapeseed or canola)
1/3 cup + 1/2 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup water
3 or 4 sprigs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
4 whole coriander seeds, or a good pinch ground
1/8 tsp whole cumin seeds
2 juniper berries, crushed
1 whole clove
1/4 tsp coarsely ground black pepper

6 to 8 ounces smoked slab bacon
2 to 4 sausages, fresh or smoked, as you prefer (I used fresh in this version)

Rinse the sauerkraut thoroughly in two or three changes of water. Drain well and then squeeze it to remove most of the moisture. Taste the 'kraut. If it still tastes very sour, or too salty to your taste, rinse it again. It should be just a bit sour, and then more of the sourness will dissipate in the cooking.

In a 10-inch skillet with a lid (or similar size saucepan), melt the butter and add the oil. Add the onions and sweat them over medium heat for a few minutes. Add the sauerkraut and the spices, the 1/3 cup wine, stock and water. Nestle the piece of bacon into the center. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a slow simmer, cover, and let cook for about an hour, checking occasionally to make sure there's still a bit of liquid in the pan. Add a bit of water if necessary.

After an hour, remove the bacon and cut in into four thick slices. In a separate pan lightly brown the bacon on both sides, and brown the sausage, too, if you like. Return bacon and sausage to the sauerkraut, along with 1/2 cup of wine. Cover again and simmer another 20 minutes.

Serve with boiled potatoes, crusty sourdough bread, grain mustard, and a glass of cold riesling.

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* Actually, that was pretty exotic fare, back in the day, on North Eden Drive in paradisiacal Eden Prairie. Homemade tacos and those Appian Way pizzas in a box were what we had for international flare. I must have been destined for a life full of fermentation--I am transported as I write this, remembering the smell of the pizza yeast reviving, liberated from its tiny foil envelope. Well, Proust had his madeleine, and to each his own!

And as far as the fish tacos go, I'm going to take it up as a challenge to come up with a Trout Caviar/Bide-A-Wee rendition once the trout season opens; all local, no ahi or mangos need apply.


Text and photos copyright 2009 by Brett Laidlaw

Ready, set, ferment.

I have to admit that even I find my enthusiasm for salted, fermented cabbage a little curious. I guess that five-plus years of intense bread explorations have only increased my fascination with the transformation that fermenting works on humble ingredients to make them delicious and distinctive. Flour and water into marvelous bread and grapes into wine are a little more dramatic than cabbage into...salty, smelly, tangy cabbage; nevertheless, it is a transformation, and one that opens all sorts of culinary opportunities.

Without sauerkraut, which the French call choucroute, we wouldn't have that wonderful, emblematic Alsatian dish, choucroute garnie, braised sauerkraut with smoked meats and sausages (you can do a fish or a game rendition, as well; we have done both). And you wouldn't have the simple, savory, satisfying Choucroute Bread Pudding that I wrote about last spring/late winter. There you'll also find the recipe for Sauerkraut Made in Jars. (After it was shredded and salted, that cabbage in the first photo--over three pounds--very nearly fit into the quart jar. The recipe says five pounds of cabbage makes two quarts, so that's pretty accurate.)

The combination of 'kraut and smoked meats in choucroute garnie is fitting and well as delicious, I think. Smoking and fermenting are both age-old methods for preserving food; turning the resulting products from a mere means of survival into a gastronomic tour de force is, of course, quintessentially French. The current interest in these atavistic methods is part of the reaction against processed food, fast food, faux foods; it's part of the renewed appreciation for local, seasonal eating, and a recognition that great food doesn't have to be fancy, expensive, imported. Some will say that la nouvelle cuisine is dead, but what was at the heart of that movement is what's behind the local and seasonal credo; it's only the overly fussy, effete wing of nouvelle cuisine that went out of fashion (which is not to say that it's extinct, by far).

There are lots of variations on standard sauerkraut, though I mainly make the unadorned version. Some people add herbs or spices to the fermenting cabbage; I figure I'll add extra flavors when I come to cooking with it. But this time, just for fun, I made one jar that combined the cabbage with a few beets and carrots, julienned on the Benriner . And in another jar I combined cabbage and apples, just because, with this sort of orchard we've come to own, we now have a wicked lot of apples.... I'll let you know how that turns out. You can ferment lots of different vegetables this way. Following the guidance of Sandor Katz in Wild Fermentation I made fermented beets and turnips last fall. The beets were great, the turnips, not so much.

The 'kraut in jars recipe comes from The Country Gourmet , a book well-worth owning if you come across it. I see you can get a copy for a penny, plus shipping at Amazon. That's, um, just pretty amazing.

I set those jars to fermenting on Monday. Today's Wednesday, and when I checked on them today, I could hear them fizzing away, especially the one with the beets. Within a week or so they should be nice and sour. We'll revisit this tangy topic, with recipes, in a few weeks' time

Text and photos copyright 2008 by Brett Laidlaw

A la Recherche du Pain Perdu

I got into the local food world through the little home-based bakery that my wife Mary and I run, Real Bread, but so far I haven't said much about bread in these...pages, can we say? The recipe you'll find below, Choucroute Bread Pudding (or Sauerkraut Stuffing, by a humbler name) combines the products of several of my favorite culinary activities: baking, smoking, and fermenting. (Choucroute is the French word for sauerkraut; choucroute garnie is the famous Alsatian dish of braised 'kraut and smoked and cured pork products.)

It's a way of using up what around here we refer to as "dead bread," the heels that were never claimed, the uneaten slices of baguette that dry up on the dinner table overnight, that sort of thing. Specifically, pain perdu, which is French for "lost bread," is what we call French toast. I'm taking the term here in a more general sense (and because I couldn't resist the Proustian allusion; now that I've actually mentioned Proust, is it still an allusion?). Anyway: This savory treatment is another way of effecting a very positive reversal of fortune for crusts that have fallen on hard times.

Although the bread in this dish is "dead," it still has to be good. Just as lousy bread makes a lousy sandwich, mediocre croutons make a soggy, forgettable stuffing. This dish is best when made with a variety of breads. Use some rye, if possible, or other whole grain bread. When you can combine--as I did for this dish most recently--pain de campagne, Danish rye, currant-stout bread, chestnut bread, baguette, Swedish rye, and brioche, the result is excellent, if I do say so myself. Mary agreed. I love this dish, and Mary is even more enthusiastic about it than I am.

Giving credit where credit is due, I've channeled this recipe through two very fine local chefs, Isaac Becker of the 112 Eatery in downtown Minneapolis, and Mike Phillips of The Craftsman restaurant in south Minneapolis. When the 112 Eatery opened a couple of years ago, there was a choucroute bread pudding on the menu, and I recall seeing it described as a "signature dish" in at least one review. For a signature dish, it didn't stick around very long. It was great, but it hasn't been on the menu for a long while now.

Then this past December a version of it resurfaced, having gone south to Lake Street and found suitable wintering grounds nestled up against an amazing double-cut Fisher Farm pork chop and flanked by addictively delicious espresso baked beans on Mike Phillips' comforting cold-weather menu at The Craftsman.

I'm calling this a pudding, though it contains no eggs and no milk or cream. It highlights the flavor and texture of the bread, particularly the savory, toothsome crusts. The tartness of the 'kraut contrasts to those flavors, and lightens what could be a heavy dish. Though it's similar to a classic Thanksgiving dressing, it's more assertive than most side dishes. In fact, I think that if you propped a poached egg or two on top of a serving and piled a bit of salad on the side, it could easily become a main course.

I've even included suggestions for making it a vegetarian dish, because, while my previous post might seem to belie it, I know and like many vegetarians, and I respect everyone's dietary choices. I just don't see how you can get the full joy out of life without bacon, is all....

You'll need to amass a certain amount of bread for this dish. It should be pretty dang dry, and once it is dry, it will keep indefinitely. The perfect environment for drying out bread, as many of you know, is a Minnesota home in winter! That super-dry heated air sucks the moisture out of everything. So if you find that part of a loaf went neglected a couple of days too long, cube it up before it's petrified (even if it's petrified, you can still salvage it with a good strong knife and your bold, but cautious, resolve), leave it out for another day or two, then put it in a plastic bag. In these dry, cool winter conditions there's little chance of it molding. But to be safe you might want to put the croutons in the freezer if you don't plan to use them pretty quickly; in summer the freezer is an excellent way to prevent spoilage.

Of course you can also dry your croutons in a low oven before using or storing them.

We are terrible about eating leftovers. Since we generally have a fair amount of bread around, I have to confess that I've thrown out more stale bread than I care to admit. A further confession: I am not a big fan of sweet bread puddings. But since discovering this savory way of reviving lost bread, we hoard every crust jealously and plan meals around it.

Homemade sauerkraut is almost a different entity altogether from the store-bought stuff, but if you don't have homemade use the 'kraut that comes in plastic bags rather than the canned kind. If you have a deli with a northern or eastern European slant, see what they might have. Here in the Twin Cities I would try Kramarczuk's in northeast Minneapolis, or Kiev Foods in the Sibley Plaza shopping center on West 7th in Saint Paul.
For future reference, there are instructions for making your own 'kraut in quart jars below. It's ridiculously easy. And it's fermented!

Two more brief asides: If you're serving this alongside a fowl that came with giblets, chop them up--gizzard, heart, and liver, all--and sauté them in the bacon fat along with the vegetables till they're nicely browned.

Aside #2, The Vegetarian Option: Leave out the bacon. Duh. Use vegetable stock instead of chicken. Sauté about four ounces of mushrooms, any kind you like, until they are nicely browned and concentrated in flavor. This sort of replaces the bacon. Sort of. Dried mushrooms--shitake, porcini, chanterelles, would also be really good in this. Adding a few more vegetables would fill this out into a veritable bread-veg casserole. Fresh cabbage, carrots, eggplant, kale, celery root--all would be fine additions. Just be sure everything is precooked and well browned for that deep umami flavor.
Choucroute Bread Pudding (Sauerkraut Stuffing)
Serves four to six

5 cups dry bread cubes (3/4" to 1" croutons), 12 to 14 ounces
2 1/2 ounces home-smoked bacon (or 2 or 3 slices thick bacon), cut into 1/4" by 1/4" by 1/2" lardons
1 medium onion, about 6 ounces, roughly chopped
1 rib celery, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1 tightly packed cup sauerkraut, preferably homemade
1/4 tsp dried thyme
5 or 6 leaves sage, chopped
salt and pepper
1 1/2 to 2 cups chicken stock, preferably homemade
1/4 cup dry white wine or dry vermouth (optional for deglazing the skillet)
Butter to grease the baking dish

In a skillet, cook the bacon gently over medium heat until most of the fat is rendered and the bacon is lightly browned. Remove the bacon from the skillet and reserve. Add the onion and celery and cook until the onion is translucent, about five minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another couple of minutes.

Put the bread cubes in a large mixing bowl and add the bacon and vegetables. Deglaze the skillet with the wine or vermouth if you like; reduce the wine a bit, then add to the bread mixture and stir well. Add the thyme and sage, a few grinds of pepper and a good pinch of salt.

Rinse the sauerkraut a couple of times, then squeeze it in your hands to remove some of the liquid. Chop it coarsely and stir it into the bread mixture.

Add 1 1/2 cups chicken stock and mix well. Cover the mixture (I invert a plate over the stuffing) and let sit at least 20 minutes to let the bread absorb the stock. After 20 minutes mix again and check a few cubes of bread by pinching them with your fingers. They should be moistened and somewhat softened. Add more stock if needed.

Liberally butter a six-cup baking dish, gratin, etc. Add the bread mixture. Bake at 375 for 30 to 40 minutes, until the top is nicely browned.

Sauerkraut Made in Jars
Adapted from The Country Gourmet
Makes 2 quarts

5 pounds cabbage
3 1/2 Tablespoons canning or sea salt

Remove outer dirty or damaged leaves from cabbage. Quarter, core, and shred the cabbage. I like a range of thicknesses, which I get naturally by shredding with a knife. You may also use a mandolin or 'kraut cutter.

Place the cabbage in a large bowl and toss with the salt. Let it sit a while to express some juice. Pack solidly into quart jars. Fill to within one inch of the top. If there's not enough liquid to cover the cabbage, add a little cold water. Put the lids and bands on, and tighten the bands not quite as much as you possibly can--tight but not super-tight.

Place the jars on a platter to catch any overflow. Place in a coolish spot, around 60 degrees. The basement is fine. In just a day or two you'll notice bubbling and juice running over the top. If you're tempted to unscrew the lid to see how things are going, be careful! Juice can shoot out like from a shook-up Coke can.

In five to seven days the bubbling will die down and no more liquid will be coming out of the jar. Wash the jars and tighten down the lids. Then you can either refrigerate indefinitely, or process the jars in a water bath for 15 minutes, seal, and store in the pantry. It doesn't matter if the kraut isn't submerged in liquid at this point--it's preserved by the souring of fermentation.

I was a little worried that I wouldn't get around to writing about this dish while our wintry weather was still with us. No problem there. Here's what it looks like in Saint Paul today:


That white on the rooftops is not the glare of bright sun. We will certainly see snow into April this year, and I'm reminded of how, when I was a kid, I thought that if the groundhog saw his shadow, promising six more weeks of winter, that was the outcome to be hoped for. As winter drags on, everyone I talk to these days is looking for a little comfort, and this dish provides it. Do a good deed and help some poor lost bread find its way again.



Brett Laidlaw


copyright 2008 Brett Laidlaw