Here's an article I wrote for our student-run newspaper. If you know me outside the blog, you've probably already read it, but, ah well. Beyond being published in the paper, it's also been my writing sample for just about every internship I've applied for lately, so pretty soon every single person in the world will have seen it.
For every animal you don’t eat, I’m going to eat...1/3 of one?
April 16, 2008
Confession: I’ve never been a very good vegetarian. When I saw the facebook group “For Every Animal You Don’t Eat, I’m Going To Eat Three”, I laughed and briefly considered switching back to eating meat just to have that on my profile. Pet peeves of mine include self-righteous vegetarians, anyone who has ever been on a raw diet, and anything involving the words “fruit fast” and “healthy”.
Now I’m considering switching back to the omnivorous side of things, and not just because I want to microwave myself whenever I meet people who think fruit juice fasts/vegetarianism/five daily infusions of soy and flaxseed oil will make them Crazy Androids of Health and Fitness. Not because I miss meat, either; because after 14 years, the entire thing really does sound a little... gross. But I’ve begun to feel that the best eating plan is probably the one that meets all of my nutritional needs on its own. Strike me down, ok maybe, but after more than a decade of popping iron and B12 supplements, I’m kind of thinking that maybe my body knew what it was doing back in the day when it craved meat.
Lately, meat’s been getting a bad rap. The New York Times, for instance, recently ran an article titled “Rethinking the Meat-Guzzler”. I’ve heard so many people who love meat suggest that they’re going to become vegetarians for the “good of the environment” or for their own health that if I hear it one more time, I’ll probably let out a really good primal scream.
As far as it goes, though, the vegans aren’t crazy. Slaughterhouses are full to the brim of excessive atrocities and violence that often borders on sadism. Happily, though, while the horrific information in all of those vegan pamphlets is pretty accurate, the problem is NOT necessarily with meat. The problem is with the meat industry and the government. Laws are vague and poorly enforced, and the production of meat is on such a large scale that profit is basically the only bottom line. Billions of animals are turned into meat each year, and the great majority is produced in factory farms. However, some smaller producers actually give their animals pretty decent lives, with space to roam and real food to eat; the kinds of lives where they get to keep all their body parts and don’t need to be fed antibiotics every day to be kept alive. These are, for many reasons, probably the people from whom you want to be buying your meat. Local, traditionally-raised meat is better for the environment (less oil used—since it doesn’t have to be shipped or trucked across the country—means less pollution). It’s also looking like it’s better for you. Animals that have been shot up with hormones, antibiotics, and chemicals are going to make meat that is also full of hormones, antibiotics, and chemicals. Animals that live and eat in the ways they have for centuries are going to make for meat that is much more similar to meat in past centuries (centuries when, we hear, diet-related health problems were much less common, despite the inclusion of meat in people’s diets).
Not all producers who advertise as “free-range” and “organic” actually raise their animals in conditions that we would normally associate with these words; the law gives a lot of loopholes for labeling. A good rule of thumb is the more local the production of the animal, the better. Of course, this isn’t always true. But Safeway and Trader Joe’s = huge corporations who can profit from buying large amounts of cheap meat from the Midwest. Meat producers who sell at farmers markets and directly to co-ops = people who have to make the decisions and deal with the animals, and who as part of a niche market, have a much bigger investment in treating their animals in a respectful way.
If you specifically don’t eat meat because of how you feel about eating animals, then most of this article isn’t for you. Except, remember that while your approach is a valid one, it’s not the only one. It’s not necessarily the most healthful or the most environmentally or economically sound. In Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver points out that in many locations with rocky or otherwise unfertile soil, meat and animal products are some of the best sources of food, as animals can turn tough, inedible-by-humans grasses and plants into protein and other nutrients in a digestible-by-humans form. The oil used to ship food to people who live in climates where there cannot be lots of produce year-round is a huge contributor to our growing environmental crisis.
Realistically, not everyone is willing to give up meat. People enjoy eating it. People have been eating it for as long as people have been people. It seems to me that reducing animal cruelty is at least a good first step for vegetarians and vegans who do it for the animals. Encouraging responsible and respectful meat producers, and creating an economically visible market for that meat, is an active step that is just as important (possibly more) than passively taking oneself out of the system. That isn’t to say that all vegetarians should start eating meat, but it is to say that they should keep broad horizons about how to encourage responsible meat-related behavior in others.
And on a final point, yes, meat that is raised humanely is expensive. Super-expensive, in some cases, which is right about where it should be. We don’t need to eat meat every day, and we certainly don’t need to eat it every meal. Buying better quality, better-raised meat is a good way to naturally limit one’s meat consumption to a healthy and natural amount.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Oh, oh.
It's been a while. It's been so long, in fact, that my computer didn't recognize and fill in "blogger.com" when I started typing it. Da-amn. Oh yeah, and it's been two months since I posted anything real.
I have things to say, so much to say (well, at least a few days' worth of posting to show for two months), but it'll have to wait for another few days, until I've got my life a bit more together. Emily's lost her computer-camera cord, too, so I've been using that as an excuse to not make anything photograph-able, but no more. Pictures, or no pictures, I'll have, well, something to show for myself. Soon. Soon.
I have things to say, so much to say (well, at least a few days' worth of posting to show for two months), but it'll have to wait for another few days, until I've got my life a bit more together. Emily's lost her computer-camera cord, too, so I've been using that as an excuse to not make anything photograph-able, but no more. Pictures, or no pictures, I'll have, well, something to show for myself. Soon. Soon.
Monday, March 3, 2008
GO HERE
P.S. Ever wanted to see the most beautiful pictures in the world?
Yeah, you betcha.
Go here. Go here now. La Tartine Gourmande will blow your mind. It exceeds the category of "food photography"; it's sheerly some of the best photography my untrained eye has ever seen.
Yeah, you betcha.
Go here. Go here now. La Tartine Gourmande will blow your mind. It exceeds the category of "food photography"; it's sheerly some of the best photography my untrained eye has ever seen.
Roast yourself some garlic
It's basic. It's simple. And it's my favorite thing to do these days.
Roasting garlic is probably the best decision you can make. It's the perfect winter dish, for those who are living in a normal February zone. It's also perfectly reminiscent of summer, for those of us who are undergoing the early springs, like what's happening in Portland right now. It's making me imagine summer pasta dishes with luscious fresh tomatoes and huge salads full of salad greens (ohhhh, salad green season).
What I'm trying to say, I think, is that I'm ready for it to be growing season, but I'm taking my roasted garlic along with me.
Photo by the generous and ever-lovely Emily F. Samstag.
Roasted Garlic
It's rather easy. So easy, in fact, that it doesn't really take a recipe. But it's delicious in just about anything in which you would use normal garlic.
For starters, cut about a half inch off of the top of a head of garlic (always use a head. Using individual cloves will make the cloves undergo a strange and bitter melding with their papery outer layers). Drizzle it liberally with a quality olive oil, making sure to let it soak between the cloves and coat the papery outside. Stick it in something over-safe, and roast somewhere between 400 and 500 degrees Fahrenheit, for 20-25 minutes. Check it periodically throughout the roasting process and douse with more olive oil if it starts to look dry. Toss with pasta and some Pecorino Romano, or spread on a slice of artisan bread.
Roasting garlic is probably the best decision you can make. It's the perfect winter dish, for those who are living in a normal February zone. It's also perfectly reminiscent of summer, for those of us who are undergoing the early springs, like what's happening in Portland right now. It's making me imagine summer pasta dishes with luscious fresh tomatoes and huge salads full of salad greens (ohhhh, salad green season).
What I'm trying to say, I think, is that I'm ready for it to be growing season, but I'm taking my roasted garlic along with me.
Photo by the generous and ever-lovely Emily F. Samstag.Roasted Garlic
It's rather easy. So easy, in fact, that it doesn't really take a recipe. But it's delicious in just about anything in which you would use normal garlic.
For starters, cut about a half inch off of the top of a head of garlic (always use a head. Using individual cloves will make the cloves undergo a strange and bitter melding with their papery outer layers). Drizzle it liberally with a quality olive oil, making sure to let it soak between the cloves and coat the papery outside. Stick it in something over-safe, and roast somewhere between 400 and 500 degrees Fahrenheit, for 20-25 minutes. Check it periodically throughout the roasting process and douse with more olive oil if it starts to look dry. Toss with pasta and some Pecorino Romano, or spread on a slice of artisan bread.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Single's Appreciation Day
Christmas was a bit of a let-down for me this year. I spent it with a few friends and ate a lovely meal, but it wasn't the completely enthralling, October-November-December-consuming holiday of my childhoods. Same for Halloween (I used to start planning my costumes in June). Which means that what I'm about to tell you about may be, in fact, my favorite holiday.
I went to college in Maine for a year, at Bowdoin College, to be precise. While there, my friend Doris imparted to me her own (very wise) riff on February 14: Single's Awareness Day. Together, we began the ritual of eating lots of chocolate, watching Boondock Saints, and appreciating being single and having such good friends.
Fast-forward another year: I'd transferred back West, and I'd begun introducing the holiday at my new school. I'd changed the name to "Single's Appreciation Day", but of course I'd kept the chocolate and the Boondock Saints. Emily and I had a small celebration with our friend Eira and her roommate.
And now we're in 2008. My beloved holiday is taking on a life of its own; one that involves pre-planning, and email invitations, and baking the night before. Brenna, Zoë, Emily and I are hosting a viewing of the movie at The Miracle (the house where Em and I live), and expecting many a Singles-loving person to show up.
The Rules, as I sent them out: "ASD is a day for glorying in the single life. There will be no bitching about being single. There will be no discussing of significant others. Should anyone have the gall to show up with an S.O. in anything but faking a "This is my distant cousin" sort of way, they will be immediately subjected to doubtful looks and criticism ("Are you sure about that choice?", "When ARE you going to be single again, anyways? You can't put it off forever, you know..."). Enjoy watching two attractive men with accents kill people and eat some chocolate and be with the people you love (your friends)."
I will be doing my part by baking one of my favorite means of chocolate consumption: Gâteau au chocolat fondant.
Gâteau au chocolat fondant
adapted from my recently acquired, and dearly beloved copy of Je veux du chocolat ! (ok, so, I'm full of lies. I actually have the English version. It was $20 cheaper. But really, the French title just sounds SO much better than I Want Chocolate! which, let's be honest, sounds like a bratty five-year-old more than anything else). I love this cake. I LOVE this cake. I made it for this year's Christmas dinner; and Orangette over here used something like it for her wedding cake, which is about the most delightful thing I can think of. Maybe I'm just a bit too fond of fantastic yet slightly homely products in high-falootin settings (we did go out to pizza for my Senior Prom dinner), but if I were going to get married in the next decade or so (well, I suppose we never know...) I'm pretty sure that that's one idea (of many) I would be stealing.
7 oz best-quality dark chocolate
14 Tablespoons butter
1.25 c. granulated sugar
5 eggs
1 Tablespoon flour
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Use 8 inch round pan (or cupcake pans, if you want to, say, hand out individual small cakes)
Melt chocolate and butter together (in microwave or in double-boiler). Let cool slightly (I grease and cocoa* the pan at this point). Add sugar, blend until the sugar is somewhat dissolved. Add eggs one at a time, incorporating each completely before going on to the next. Add the flour. Batter should be delightfully blob-ish (mine always sticks together in the coolest, most gelatinous, horror-movie kind of way).
Deposit batter in to pan, bake for around 22 minutes. The middle will still be somewhat jiggly, as this is a soft, fondant cake.
*cocoa-ing in place of flouring, since it's a dark cake, and flour would look a little out of place
Photo by the generous and ever-lovely Emily F. Samstag.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Awe in Mouth
In case you were wondering, this is the trendy week to have the flu. What can I say, all the cool kids are doing it, and when there's a good trend, I just can't help myself.
Ok, so, that last sentence is entirely untrue. But the part about the flu is pretty accurate.
Wanted to pass along a couple of super-important bits of information:
The first... I am now a daring baker. Oh, yes. (Do you even know how long I've been waiting to describe myself in such an awesome way?? Ten billion years or thereabouts, I would say). I've actually just last night signed up to be a Daring Baker. There will be more on that later, when challenges actually roll around, but for now, I'll be all glowy with the thought of actually joining myself to other bloggers in some way.
The second is Luna & Larry's. I tend to shy away from product reviews, mainly because I'm just plain not interested in them, but Coconut Bliss, as the word "Bliss" implies, really needs a shout-out. They, and their lovely dessert, are all from my hometown of Eugene, Oregon, which is pretty damn cool in and of itself. I remember a few years ago when they started up, and all of a sudden Sundance was posting signs for having sold out, and Sweet Life was judging them good enough to sell right next to their gelato. Despite all of this, I'd never actually tried Coconut Bliss until I wandered into my local co-op last week and wasn't able to get the phrase "Cinnamon Chocolate Flake" out of my brain. I bought it, pulled out a spoon and... was sadly disappointed. I'm going to blame this one on my penchant for ice cream (in all its dairy-having glory), but the Bliss seemed a little, well, anemic would be a good word for it. Thin, and without anything in it to pack a real oomph. I was disappointed, but, shamefully, not incredibly surprised. However, if there's anything my hippie roots will lead me to do, it's to give a vegan product a second try. And so, half an hour later, I was back at my freezer, spoon in hand, and awe in mouth.
(Picture ruthlessly abducted from www.coconutbliss.com, but used with only the best of intentions)
I think the reason that the Bliss is so good (besides the obvious marketing tactic of its name) is because it's less sweet than normal ice creams. Most of the sweetness comes from the coconut itself, and the rest comes from agave syrup, which means that the flavor is much more complex than the normal pint of, say, Ben and Jerry's. It's one of those desserts that feels natural and good, in that it's still, you know, a completely decadent dessert, but it doesn't feel like someone picked up a bag of sugar and ten bags of candy and poured them together for your enjoyment (because, honestly, I of course enjoy those ice creams, too). It's also not a vegan replacement-for-something-better dessert (I hate those). It's lovely entirely in its own right. And I'll say it again a few more times: the flavor is complex. Complex, complex, complex. Complexity is the key word here.
My other worry with a coconut milk-based dessert was that it would taste too tropical, like a Piña Colada or other. Nope. Wrong. The first few bites are a bit strong on the coconut flavor, but them it's just creamy and just sweet enough and flavored with spicy cinnamon and... mmhm. Just go buy some. (I'm not even taunting you with some hippie Oregon product; if you live in Oregon, Washington, Northern California, Hawai'i, Alaska, Montana, or Idaho, there is Luna and Larry's being sold somewhere in your state. That should really motivate you to go on a grand treasure hunt, stat). I'll leave you with the parting inspirational statement that, if I'm encouraging you to buy a product that needs to have its main ingredient (coconut [milk]) shipped from halfway across the world (Thailand), then it's got to be damn good.
Ok, so, that last sentence is entirely untrue. But the part about the flu is pretty accurate.
Wanted to pass along a couple of super-important bits of information:
The first... I am now a daring baker. Oh, yes. (Do you even know how long I've been waiting to describe myself in such an awesome way?? Ten billion years or thereabouts, I would say). I've actually just last night signed up to be a Daring Baker. There will be more on that later, when challenges actually roll around, but for now, I'll be all glowy with the thought of actually joining myself to other bloggers in some way.
The second is Luna & Larry's. I tend to shy away from product reviews, mainly because I'm just plain not interested in them, but Coconut Bliss, as the word "Bliss" implies, really needs a shout-out. They, and their lovely dessert, are all from my hometown of Eugene, Oregon, which is pretty damn cool in and of itself. I remember a few years ago when they started up, and all of a sudden Sundance was posting signs for having sold out, and Sweet Life was judging them good enough to sell right next to their gelato. Despite all of this, I'd never actually tried Coconut Bliss until I wandered into my local co-op last week and wasn't able to get the phrase "Cinnamon Chocolate Flake" out of my brain. I bought it, pulled out a spoon and... was sadly disappointed. I'm going to blame this one on my penchant for ice cream (in all its dairy-having glory), but the Bliss seemed a little, well, anemic would be a good word for it. Thin, and without anything in it to pack a real oomph. I was disappointed, but, shamefully, not incredibly surprised. However, if there's anything my hippie roots will lead me to do, it's to give a vegan product a second try. And so, half an hour later, I was back at my freezer, spoon in hand, and awe in mouth.
(Picture ruthlessly abducted from www.coconutbliss.com, but used with only the best of intentions)
I think the reason that the Bliss is so good (besides the obvious marketing tactic of its name) is because it's less sweet than normal ice creams. Most of the sweetness comes from the coconut itself, and the rest comes from agave syrup, which means that the flavor is much more complex than the normal pint of, say, Ben and Jerry's. It's one of those desserts that feels natural and good, in that it's still, you know, a completely decadent dessert, but it doesn't feel like someone picked up a bag of sugar and ten bags of candy and poured them together for your enjoyment (because, honestly, I of course enjoy those ice creams, too). It's also not a vegan replacement-for-something-better dessert (I hate those). It's lovely entirely in its own right. And I'll say it again a few more times: the flavor is complex. Complex, complex, complex. Complexity is the key word here.
My other worry with a coconut milk-based dessert was that it would taste too tropical, like a Piña Colada or other. Nope. Wrong. The first few bites are a bit strong on the coconut flavor, but them it's just creamy and just sweet enough and flavored with spicy cinnamon and... mmhm. Just go buy some. (I'm not even taunting you with some hippie Oregon product; if you live in Oregon, Washington, Northern California, Hawai'i, Alaska, Montana, or Idaho, there is Luna and Larry's being sold somewhere in your state. That should really motivate you to go on a grand treasure hunt, stat). I'll leave you with the parting inspirational statement that, if I'm encouraging you to buy a product that needs to have its main ingredient (coconut [milk]) shipped from halfway across the world (Thailand), then it's got to be damn good.
Monday, February 4, 2008
[decadent] re-gifting
It's been a strange week.
School started, of course, I've talked all about that. I felt like I dropped off the face of the planet there for a bit, really. I guess nothing was going to compare to the idyllic lifestyle I was leading in December and January (Eden, anyone?), near-constant blogging included. Emily, dearest photographer of my heart, is in LA for the week, becoming some sort of tanned, biking wonder, or so I am to understand. I spent the majority of the past week with my Linguistics reading, and a copy of Les Fleurs du Mal, or several, and not with cookbooks or whisks in hand. All the same, Saturday I couldn't resist baking some bread, and Sunday I went a little crazy and made a huge dinner, complete with pots de crême for dessert. (Butterscotch, no less!)
Unfortunately, I am not the mother, or even distantly related cousin of any of these, since they were all found on other blogs which are far too comprehensive and pretty to need any of my commentary. Thus, I'm using this past week as an excuse to tell you about two other blogs which far surpass my own small grassroots-of-the-grassroots spot, and which you should most definitely be looking at.
The first, Orangette, has probably spawned an entire generation of bloggers. Go anywhere, and you'll see her delightful and shockingly fresh writing style (and its slightest hint of campy naivety) all over the web. This weekend I made her panade, as well as her butterscotch pots de crème which have an addictiveness level which I assume is quite near to crack cocaine. The panade is made with chard, onion, and gruyère, and, while not quite to perfect taste the first day, is pleasingly stuffing-like on the second. I tried the pan-frying of the leftovers as suggested, but, um, really just succeeded in heating them up in a frying pan. I couldn't really handle the thought of involving any more oil in them, so perhaps that was why?
But my real weakness is dessert, and, if you haven't already immediately clicked on that link as you were reading the words "butterscotch" and "pots de crème", well, go now. Even if you are a complete scrooge and hate dessert and sugar and potentially even food itself, go for her pictures. The post is called "pots of gold", and damned if those aren't the most appealing metallic food photographs I have ever seen. They glimmer, people, like they're flecked with actual gold. Mine were delicious and all, to the point of needing to give them away to housemates, but hers. Wow. It appears to be some actual incarnation of the Midas myth. Go try your own, and if you can figure out how to make them look like that, well, get back to me.
But for all the words of excess and delight, the last think I have saved for you is, I think, the gastronomic equivalent of an insider trading tip.
Farmgirl Susan (oh, yes) lives on 240 acres of farmland in rural Missouri. Uh-huh. She used to live in California, and now she has sheep, and a farmdog, and god knows probably even a turkey or two hidden somewhere. I still can't decide whether I'm enchanted at the writing and novelty, or terrified because there's this slight possibility that it could be my future some day. I'm not terribly familiar with the site, having just stumbled upon it with the finding of this recipe, but if you don't mind a cutesy-named animal and the concept of farms, I recommend checking it out. Or, just make the following bread recipe with her in mind as you realize that you have stumbled upon the true definition of "alchemy". I've included the recipe because, well, if I'm ever stranded on a dessert island with just my blog and a six-pack, I'll need this recipe.
Whole Wheat Beer Bread
... IS SO EASY. When I said alchemy, I meant it. I first made this after agreeing to bake with a friend. We were even a little disappointed when we finally sat down and looked at the recipe, because it takes nothing. NOTHING. You mix and stick in oven. We forgot salt and it was still delicious. I made a loaf again the next day (remembering salt) to give to my father, and kept double-checking the recipe since I couldn't even believe my own memory of it being so simple. Read, bake, and be awed.
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon granulated sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
14 oz beer
Mix ingredients in bowl, beer last. Dump into appropriately-sized oiled and floured bread pan. Squeal like it's your third-grade science project while it bakes for 45 minutes at 375 degrees. Let cool for twenty minutes.
Now go, go, GO!
School started, of course, I've talked all about that. I felt like I dropped off the face of the planet there for a bit, really. I guess nothing was going to compare to the idyllic lifestyle I was leading in December and January (Eden, anyone?), near-constant blogging included. Emily, dearest photographer of my heart, is in LA for the week, becoming some sort of tanned, biking wonder, or so I am to understand. I spent the majority of the past week with my Linguistics reading, and a copy of Les Fleurs du Mal, or several, and not with cookbooks or whisks in hand. All the same, Saturday I couldn't resist baking some bread, and Sunday I went a little crazy and made a huge dinner, complete with pots de crême for dessert. (Butterscotch, no less!)
Unfortunately, I am not the mother, or even distantly related cousin of any of these, since they were all found on other blogs which are far too comprehensive and pretty to need any of my commentary. Thus, I'm using this past week as an excuse to tell you about two other blogs which far surpass my own small grassroots-of-the-grassroots spot, and which you should most definitely be looking at.
The first, Orangette, has probably spawned an entire generation of bloggers. Go anywhere, and you'll see her delightful and shockingly fresh writing style (and its slightest hint of campy naivety) all over the web. This weekend I made her panade, as well as her butterscotch pots de crème which have an addictiveness level which I assume is quite near to crack cocaine. The panade is made with chard, onion, and gruyère, and, while not quite to perfect taste the first day, is pleasingly stuffing-like on the second. I tried the pan-frying of the leftovers as suggested, but, um, really just succeeded in heating them up in a frying pan. I couldn't really handle the thought of involving any more oil in them, so perhaps that was why?
But my real weakness is dessert, and, if you haven't already immediately clicked on that link as you were reading the words "butterscotch" and "pots de crème", well, go now. Even if you are a complete scrooge and hate dessert and sugar and potentially even food itself, go for her pictures. The post is called "pots of gold", and damned if those aren't the most appealing metallic food photographs I have ever seen. They glimmer, people, like they're flecked with actual gold. Mine were delicious and all, to the point of needing to give them away to housemates, but hers. Wow. It appears to be some actual incarnation of the Midas myth. Go try your own, and if you can figure out how to make them look like that, well, get back to me.
But for all the words of excess and delight, the last think I have saved for you is, I think, the gastronomic equivalent of an insider trading tip.
Farmgirl Susan (oh, yes) lives on 240 acres of farmland in rural Missouri. Uh-huh. She used to live in California, and now she has sheep, and a farmdog, and god knows probably even a turkey or two hidden somewhere. I still can't decide whether I'm enchanted at the writing and novelty, or terrified because there's this slight possibility that it could be my future some day. I'm not terribly familiar with the site, having just stumbled upon it with the finding of this recipe, but if you don't mind a cutesy-named animal and the concept of farms, I recommend checking it out. Or, just make the following bread recipe with her in mind as you realize that you have stumbled upon the true definition of "alchemy". I've included the recipe because, well, if I'm ever stranded on a dessert island with just my blog and a six-pack, I'll need this recipe.
Whole Wheat Beer Bread
... IS SO EASY. When I said alchemy, I meant it. I first made this after agreeing to bake with a friend. We were even a little disappointed when we finally sat down and looked at the recipe, because it takes nothing. NOTHING. You mix and stick in oven. We forgot salt and it was still delicious. I made a loaf again the next day (remembering salt) to give to my father, and kept double-checking the recipe since I couldn't even believe my own memory of it being so simple. Read, bake, and be awed.
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 Tablespoon granulated sugar
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
14 oz beer
Mix ingredients in bowl, beer last. Dump into appropriately-sized oiled and floured bread pan. Squeal like it's your third-grade science project while it bakes for 45 minutes at 375 degrees. Let cool for twenty minutes.
Now go, go, GO!
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