So I'm bored with a lot of things right now, baking being one of them. And not wanting to heat the kitchen anyway.
But I had to make some bread-adjacent food today, and got more interested when I remembered that container of chai spices in the freezer.
Big pinch of them in the batter, half and half whole wheat and bolted whole wheat, only three Tbs olive oil, usual buttermilk, made by souring milk with lemon juice.
Broken one is cook's sample. And they smell wonderful! Perfect for cheese. Not jam. Just savory ideas. Lovely scent of cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, caraway and other notes as the posh cooks say.
Sometimes a bit of novelty draws my reluctant self along. That and a touch of hunger.
I wonder how many recipe ideas come from the cook, fed up of the same old same old, desperate to get interested again.
That and kitchen mishaps forcing a bit of inventiveness. Someone long ago in a medieval kitchen totally ruins the whole ox. Quick, what can we cover the burned bits with? Sauce? Whatever that is, let's try it.
Then let's cut bits up tomorrow and mix with veggies, cover with mashed turnips because potatoes haven't been introduced here yet, and call it Ploughboy's Pie.
No, not Playboy, that hasn't been invented either. We need to wait for Caxton to get on with that weird machine thing, so we can read at the table, not Playboy, the newspaper, and annoy our families.
This is how my bored mind works.