Saturday Morning Ritual

How I spent my Saturday mornings for many years

Every Saturday I repeat the same ritual. When it begins, I'm never quite sure I like it. But by the time it ends, I'm always pretty happy about it. It starts with the distinctive strumming of my IPad alarm clock at exactly 4:05 a.m. I always set my 1970s radio alarm clock also, just in case. In the next ten minutes, I throw on some clothes, brush my teeth and wrap a scarf around my head, pet the still sleeping dog and silently leave the house. In my car, I catch an early morning interview on the BBC as I drive through the darkened streets to my destination.
Once there, I turn on the lights, plug in the coffee machines and it's time to put my scouting days to the test: I build a fire in the woodfired oven that will burn for the next hour and forty five minutes, long enough to heat the oven for the morning bake of sixty to seventy loaves of bread. I'm still getting awake about just now but my body is familiar with the minute by minute chores and pulls me along no matter. I prep the coffee. I grease some pans, I gather all the needed accessories. Here comes the fun part: I pull all the pastries from their overnight slumber in the refrigerator, brush egg wash on these, sprinkle sugar on those, top that pan with sliced almonds. In the meantime, two more ovens start their shift. Hercules, the workhorse, takes a little longer to heat up than his neighbor, Vulcan.
In the quiet predawn, I think as I work. I listen to the birds as they wake up. I see the light slowly spread across the sky. I knead a batch of dough. As pans take their turns in the ovens, the irresistible smell of sweet pastry dough baking reaches me. I'm already imagining how they will taste later when I finally have time to sit down...

Meantime, there is work to do. It won't happen all by itself. In a couple more hours, folks will be here expecting to start their Saturday morning ritual.
In this silent interlude between night and day, I find my sacred place.  My hands work and my mind is focused with no interruptions other than the sounds of slapping dough and the crackling of the fire. All of me is engaged in the task at hand. I am one with my work. This is what life is about. The sun now throws a beam through the window. The magical moment is about gone.

As co-workers bustle in and laughter breaks out, a new day dawns. The pastries and the frittatas are baked and ready. The coffee smells so good. And, yes, there is a line at the door. I start the Buena Vista Social Club song, Chan Chan, as we open the front door. The next few hours are a blur of baking and serving, people gathered around tables, a feeling of community. Sometimes, I wander through the groupings and ask, “Are you happy?” When I hear “Yes!”, I move on. I've reached my happy place. It's time to go home.
Here is a frittata recipe for your morning ritual.

Spinach Roasted Red Pepper Frittata

1/2 onion, chopped and fried in canola oil

3 large potatoes, cooked with skin on until tender

a good handful of fresh spinach

2 roasted red peppers, cut into bite-size pieces

1/2 c. ricotta cheese

1 1/2 c. cheese  (grated mozzarella, parmesan and provolone mix)

8 eggs

1 1/4 c. cream or half and half

1/2 t. oregano

salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 375°. Grease a 9” by 11” casserole dish. Sprinkle the bottom with the fried onions. Next, layer with thinly sliced potatoes, then scatter the spinach, then roasted red peppers, then ricotta and finally the cheese mix. Whisk 8 eggs and the cream together. Stir in the spices. Pour over the potato spinach mixture. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes, until set. Serves 8.

P.S. Can be made the night before, covered with tinfoil and refrigerated overnight then baked in the oven the next morning.