Chapter 9

"your dog is missing?" cardigan scoffed. "charles, you're a private investigator--find him yourself. you don't need me for that." he gestured for more coffee.

she shook her head. "not that kind of dog, cardigan. it's an inside joke--it stands for Dear Ol' Grandad." she took a deep breath. "my grandad is missing, cardigan. and i'm worried."

"i'm sorry to hear that, charles. really, i am." he drummed his fingers on the table. "how long has he been missing? does this have anything to do with livermore?"

"it might. i don't know." she stared into her cup. "i've tried calling him the past couple of days, and left messages for him to call me back. he hasn't. i wasn't too worried until i heard about james. i went over to his place this morning and....he hasn't been there in several days. i picked up his mail, checked his phone messages." she shook her head. "he's the only family i have, cardigan, and i'm worried. will you help me?" she reached out and placed her hand on his.

her hand was cold, but her eyes were warm. he nodded. "sure, charles. tell me what you know and we'll figure out a plan of attack. between the two of us, we'll find him."

Challah

today's bread is Challah (from reinhart's BBA), a braided Jewish bread enriched with eggs and a little bit of sugar. it makes terrific french toast! this was rather easy to work with and to braid. the only problem is (and it may not be a problem--i haven't tasted it yet) is that the instructions gave you the option of making one large or two small loaves. i opted for two. when it's time to bake, it says bake 20 minutes, then turn the pan around for even browning and back another 20-45 minutes depending on the size of the loaves. fine, i made two smaller loaves, so i took them out after 19 minutes and checked them. the internal temperature should read at least 190 degrees on an instant-read thermometer inserted into the middle of the bread, but mine registered 205 degrees. hopefully, it's fine. it looks nice, at any rate :)

Pain à l'Ancienne

this is reinhart's revolutionary bread recipe in BBA, destined to extend the frontiers of breadbaking to dimensions unknown. well, it's good. really, good. i'm a little disappointed in that mine is more flat than round, but it's still excellent. reinhart says you can use this dough to make pizza--it would make great pizza. i may do that next week. hey, next week is super bowl--perfect! the reason this bread is revolutionary is the method. last night i mixed together some ice-cold water, bread flour, salt, and yeast. after the dough came together, i poured it into a large, oiled bowl, sprayed oil over the top of the dough, covered with plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge. i took it out this afternoon, let it sit at room temperature for about 3 hours, poured it out on the counter, gently shaped in into an oblong, divided into 3, let it rest 5 minutes, then gently placed it onto a baking sheet and baked it in a hot oven with steam. that's it. no kneading, and only the one rise. crusty and chewy and tasty. a winner.

Chapter 8

cardigan lumbered into the Merry Wives Diner and spotted sierra in a corner booth. he slid into the opposite bench and was grateful that the waitress showed up right behind him. "coffee--black--and migas."

sierra handed her menu over and ordered bacon waffles. after the waitress walked away, she picked up her mug for a sip and stared out the window, remaining silent. cardigan waited for his own coffee to arrive before getting into it. "talk to me, charles.

she began examining her fingernails. "james has been staying with me. he thought his life was in danger."

"apparently, he was right. why did you lie to me?"

she looked at him exasperated. "because his life was in danger, cardigan. didn't you hear me? he didn't want to be found."

"not good enough, charles. what was going on? who was after him? and why was he staying with you rather than in a motel?"

she looked away again. "we became involved." she shrugged. "it happens."

their food arrived. the migas were steaming on cardigan's plate, and he concentrated on his food. even sex and murder couldn't compete for his attention when it came to migas. when he looked up, he was surprised and impressed that sierra was attacking her waffles with similar gusto. he pointed a fork full of refired beans at her nearly empty plate. "i see this tragedy hasn't affected your appetite."

she licked maple syrup off her fork. "nothing ever does. especially when there's bacon."

he made a noise of approval, munching on a four tortilla. "i'm in listening mode, charles, so feel free to talk."

she sighed and signaled toward the waitress with her empty mug. "he was working a club in miami a couple of years back. he drank too much one night and hit a pedestrian, killing her. her family is associated with organized crime." she waited for her mug to be refilled before continuing. "he knew who she was and he ran, and has been running every since."

cardigan was staring hard at her. "you were trying to send me off to vegas. why?"

she gave him a weak smile. "no offense, cardigan, but you were attracting too much attention. we thought you'd enjoy a nice vacation hunting wild geese."

"not funny, charles." he drained his mug. "at any rate, i guess my case if over. i found him."

she shook her head. "not quite, cardigan. i need your help."

he gave her a dead stare. "with what, charles?"

"my dog is missing."

CYA: Gavin & Foxy, Feelings 1

NOTE: if you did not jump to this chapter as a result of the Choose Your Adventure story, please go here before reading any further!


foxy's hand felt warm in gavin's, and he felt as if he would drown in the well of her brown eyes. "foxy, i..."

"shhhh....," she placed a finger to his lips, then pulled his head down as she lifted herself up onto her toes to kiss him, her left foot bending upward in passion as gavin's arms encircled her. nearby bostonians stopped what they were doing to watch the couple, knowing that they were in the presence of one of the greatest kisses the world had ever known. for their part, cardigan & foxy were only aware of each other, the rest of the world dissolving into a blur spinning around their singular point in the universe.

it wasn't until the sun went down and the chill air sent a shiver through both of them that they finally pulled apart. cardigan wore a goofy grin while foxy blushed. "come on," he said, reaching out for her hand. "let's go."

they walked back to the warehouse and settled back into the time machine. as gavin started to turn the dials, foxy placed her hand on his. "wait. do we have to go directly back?"

cardigan lifted a mischievous eyebrow. "when and where, m'lady?"

she closed her eyes. "paris," she sighed. "springtime. 1930s."

cardigan lifted her chin and kissed her again. "here's looking at you, kid."


The End
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Reader,

You have reached the end of your adventure. I hope you enjoyed it! If not, well, you only have yourself to blame because, you know, you chose it yourself. Also, since you--not I--chose this adventure, it did not really take place in the Burkieverse and, therefore, will not have any continuity with the regular Poor Yorick's Pub chapters. Thanks for playing and, if you're in the mood to try another adventure, go back to the beginning and choose a different path!

Classic Banana Bundt Cake (Pub Version)

i know, it's not a bread, but it's so damn good. i'm posting it 'cause my friend maddog posted the recipe on her blog at my request, but didn't have a picture of it. i had 4 bananas sitting around last night that i had to do something with, so i made it. i knew she didn't have a picture, so i'm posting it here (her pics are much better than mine). i realized after i had started that i was out of vanilla. there is no single substitute for vanilla--there are several things that you can use instead, but it really depends on the recipe. for this, i thought dark rum would work just fine (a thought that often occurs to me, i'll admit). and i was right :)

Marbled Rye Bread

finally tracked down some rye flour so i could make this bread from reinhart's BBA. there were a number of options available with this bread. you make a light rye dough, then a dark rye dough--the only difference being the dark rye bread has a darkening agent of some kind--either caramel coloring, or cocoa powder, or carob. i opted for hershey's special dark cocoa. there was the option to add caraway seeds to both doughs. i added them to the light dough only, so each would taste a little different. then there were the marbling options. you could just form pieces of light and dark dough together and just have random marbling, or you could roll pieces of each and then either roll up a light, then wrap a dark around it, etc., for a bull's eye effect, or stack them up in alternating layers and rolls them up together for a spiral effect. i opted for the latter and baked them in loaf pans rather than free-standing. and they turned out really nice, they taste good, and i enjoyed making it. perhaps i should have sliced the loaf above through the middle where there's likely more of a spiral shape than on the end, but i think that looks kind of cool, too. those i work with will get to sample the rye bread tomorrow, as well as the pane siciliano, and the ciabatta. i'll bring in some artichoke spread--feel free to bring whatever you like if you wish.

Chapter 7

cardigan slept late the next morning, then went out on his customary 4-mile run. following a brisk shower, he was grinding coffee beans when his phone rang. it was sierra. "what's up, charles?"

"cardigan, i need to talk to you. can we meet? now?"

"now? i haven't even had my coffee yet, charles. can't it wait a couple of hours? we talked last night, remember? why the urgency?"

she hesitated. "last night i thought james was alive."

"what happened?" cardigan sounded urgent now.

"he was murdered early this morning. shot."

the gears in cardigan's head were grinding. "why are you so jumpy about this, charles? what are you not telling me?"

another pause. "he was shot behind the wheel of a car. my car. the police have already been here for a statement."

cardigan kept his cool. barely. "where do you want to meet, charles? you've got some 'splaning to do."

Chapter 6

cardigan walked into Timon of Athens to find sierra charles waiting just inside the doorway. "what'd you find out?"

"patience, cardigan. you gotta wine & dine me if you want the info. come on, let's get a table."

the scent of garlic and lemon greeting them as them walked into the dining area, taking the edge off cardigan's mood. they quickly settled on fried calamari two glasses of ouzo to start with. "okay, charles. what can you tell me about livermore?"

"i can't find him." she dipped her calimari in the aioli. "i think he's missing."

"brilliant deduction, angel." cardigan glared at her, grinding his teeth against the crispy, chewy squid. "who does he know? where is he from? where is is family? i've got nothing on this guy, and i doubt he's who he says he is."

she nods, sipping her ouzo. "i think you're right about that, but i don't know for sure. i wasn't investigating him, i was working for him." she looks at her menu again. "what are you ordering?"

"the basil shrimp with feta and orzo," he replied promptly.

"shrimp with cheese? yuck." she made a face at him. "i'm getting the swordfish. wanna get a bottle of white?"

"sure, that'll work. and normally, i'd agree with you about fish and cheese, but this particular dish is an exception. trust me."

after the waiter leaves with their order, cardigan puts his elbows on the table and leans forward. "i'm listening."

"there's not a lot i can tell you, cardigan." she cuts him off when he starts to retort. "i'm serious; i'm not playing games with you. james hired me to find somebody and confirm that person's identity. i did that. there's not much more i can tell you about that situation that would help you, other than that i was able to verify today that james has not contacted that individual." she shrugged. "i'm at the same dead end that you are."

cardigan contemplates this as the waiter pours the wine. "not quite. you know livermore. what's he like? where is he from? where did he work before Verona? how did you contact him since he didn't have a phone?"

"i'd leave a message with his landlord and he'd call me. i know he doesn't have a car. he never mentioned living or working anywhere else. he always paid with a money order, which makes me suspect he doesn't have a bank account and strengthens my conviction that he's hiding from something or someone." she samples the wine. "i like this. grassy, not too oaky."

cardigan drums his fingers on the table. "did you ever meet him at Verona?"

she nods. "once. he was working in the kitchen, and entertaining the customers. he's a marvelous impersonator--he can do do all kinds of voices."

"that's what i hear. who did he do?"

"oh, gosh. let's see--the president, all those old cartoon characters like bugs bunny and porky pig and pepe le pew. elvis. garth brooks."

"garth brooks?" cardigan looked disgusted. "how could you tell? i don't think i've ever heard him talk."

she shook her head. "no, he sang like garth brooks--that song about having friends in low places. sounded just like him. he did a great elvis, too."

their food arrived and they broke off the conversation to dig in. cardigan appreciated the fact that sierra charles was a good eater, and didn't object at all when she stuck a fork into his plate for a sample. "mmm, that is good. you've got a good palate, cardigan."


he poured more wine for both of them. "this person you found for him....does he or she know livermore?"

"maybe. i don't know." she starts pushing her food around in her plate. "there is something, cardigan. it might be a stretch, but..."

he raises an eyebrow at her over his wine glass as he drains it. "i'll take anything at this point."

"this...person i located used to live in vegas. given james' talents, it's possible that he may have tried performing in vegas. he's certainly good enough." she shrugs. "like i say, it's a stretch."

"hmmm....true, but plausible all the same. i think i'll follow up on it." he finishes his plate and meets her eyes. "how about dessert?"

"hmmm...."

Pane Siciliano

i used the pate fermentee that i prepared a couple of nights ago to make the pane siciliano from reinhart's BBA. i finished the dough yesterday, let it rise, then divided it into three equal parts. i formed 3 baguettes from them, then curled them up into an S-shape, brushed with water, sprinkled with sesame seeds. i let them proof, them parked them in the fridge overnight. i took 2 of them out this afternoon, waited about an hour and a half to take the chill off, and baked. these were terrific. my favorite so far. i like everything about this bread--the dough felt great and was nice to work with. the loaves are visually stunning. it tastes great. the crust is crispy, the crumb is tender. incidentally, this is the third bread i've made that uses semolina flour in the the dough, and they've all been successful, and the dough has felt really good in my hands each time. i'll have to research more semolina breads! oh, and i left the 3rd loaf in the fridge and will bake it tomorrow. hopefully it'll be just as good, if not better.

Chapter 5

cardigan stared at her. "a private investigator? i don't know you. you must work for one of the bigger firms--R&G?"

"first try! oh, you are a good detective." she grinned, taking another bite from her scone.

"why did he hire you?"

she gave the impression of rolling her eyes. "you know better than that, cardigan."

he took his time, gathering his thoughts while sipping his coffee. "when did you last hear from him?"

"10 days ago. i finished the job and settled up." she regarded him coolly. "what is this about, cardigan?"

"you know better than that, charles," he mimicked. "look, i need to talk to him. why don't we help each other out? do you know how i can get in touch with him right now?"

she shook her head. "you forget, cardigan. my case is over--successfully over, i might add. i don't need any help."

"look charles, you...." he broke off suddenly. "you called him 'james.' on the phone this morning, and right here just a while ago. you called him 'james,' not 'livermore.' what's going on between you two?"

she raised her mug. "you're seeing things, cardigan. he's just a client who likes to be called by his first name." she drained her cup. "if you tell me what this is about, maybe i can help you."

cardigan took a chance. "he's missing. nobody has seen or heard from him in 6 days. his landlord let me in to look around. there's no evidence that he moved out, though he seems to be a man of few possessions. no bills, no phone, no cable TV. his place is clean--too clean--as if he's always ready to run if need be. all i found was a tablet with your name and number, and a doctor's appointment for the other day, which he didn't make."

"missing?" she shook her head. "that doesn't make sense. he would want to stay put more than ever now, i would think." she stood up. "tell you what, cardigan. let me follow up on a couple of things and i'll see what i can find out for you. you can buy me dinner tonight. deal?"

cardigan grinned. "deal. here's my card."

she stuck the card in a pocket in her purse, looking back over her shoulder as she walked away. "just dinner, cardigan."

Poolish Ciabatta

2nd ciabatta from BBA today, made from the poolish pre-ferment i made last night. the good news is, it tastes good. hey--it's fresh-baked bread, so that's almost a given. the crust also had a deeper color than the biga version. but...i can't really taste any difference between them. it also puffed up more than i'd expected--even more than the biga version--and the crust is soft and the crumb lacks the big holes it's supposed to have, though it performed slightly better in this respect than the biga version. so, in short, i pronounce the poolish version very, very slightly better than the biga. but i have to say that, honestly, the ciabatta i made a couple of weeks ago was far better than these two, and it only took one day. maybe because the dough was so much wetter than these two today. the doughs today were very, very soft and somewhat difficult to work with, but that other dough was so wet that it was almost impossible to work with. so, maybe i just need to make sure the dough is wetter.

Biga Ciabatta

two ciabatta recipes from reinhart's BBA today: the first uses the biga pre-ferment that i made last night. except for the type of pre-ferment used, the only real difference between the recipes was that the biga recipe listed an optional addition of olive oil, so i opted for it. the good new, it tastes good enough to eat. the bad news is.....it's not what i expected. like it's poolish brother (see next post), it puffed up more than i thought it would, and the crust is softer than i'd wanted, and i did not get the kind of big holes in the crumb that you expect from ciabatta. oh, well. let's check out the poolish version now.

rye is everybody always picking on me?

you can't ryete about rye without a pun or two, ryete? oddly, neither the huge safeway nor the large giant food store here sells rye flour. it's a conspiryeacy! so i schlepped all the out to whole foods, and all they sell is a small 2-lb bag (and they only had 1 in stock!). argh! i went ahead and bought it, as well as another bag of semolina (obviously, i can't get that at safeway or giant, either. i'll try the health food store nearby). meanwhile, i walked by the bakery at whole foods and, on a lark, asked the baker if they would sell me some of their sourdough starter. the answer is no, but they gave me some :) i'm going to feed it and see if i can keep it alive and try baking something with it soon! oh, and i am making both the poolish and the biga ciabatta's today, and i'm using the pate fermentee to make reinhart's pane siciliano tomorrow. keep checking this site :)

Chapter 4

cardigan walked into Othello's 5 minutes early and spotted her immediately. she was standing at the counter, and he viewed her in profile: high heels, tailored suit, short black hair. her body was long and fluid--a swimmer's body. when she turned toward him, she looked right at him--not through him, not judging or inspecting--but at him, giving him her full attention. "mr. cardigan?"

he nodded. "ms. charles, i presume. pleasure to meet you." he ordered a black coffee and followed her to a corner table. "thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

she removed her black framed glasses, placing them in a soft case in her purse, then took a small nibble of her bacon & cheddar scone. "you wanted to talk about james, mr. cardigan?"

cardigan noted the flaky texture and abundance of smoky bacon in the scone and was beginning to regret not ordering one, then directed his gaze back to the magnetic sierra charles. "how do you know mr. livermore?"

"he hired me." she smiled for the first time as she raised her cup to her lips, her lipstick leaving no stain on the white ceramic. "i'm a private investigator, mr. cardigan."

Pre-Ferments

tonight, i prepared reinhart's pate fermentee, poolish, and biga from BBA. the pate fermentee and biga are doughs you mix up, knead, let rise, punch down, then stick in the 'fridge overnight or up to 3 days. the poolish is somewhere between a dough like the others and the kind of wet sponges i used to prepare as a pizza chef back in the day--it's like a very thick pancake batter that is simply water, flour, and yeast stirred together and left out to ferment and get puffy and foamy for a few hours, then parked in the 'fridge overnight or up to 3 days. the difference between the pate fermentee and the biga is that the pate fermentee (reinhart's version, at least) is half bread flour and half all-purpose flour, and has salt. the biga is all bread flour and has no salt. the lack of salt means less yeast as well, because salt inhibits yeast action. the purpose of all these methods is that they allow time to be your ally, drawing out as much flavor as possible from the wheat. they allow those simplest of breads that don't use much in the way of eggs or fats or flavorings or even much sugar--your baguettes and italian loaves and ciabattas and so forth--to let the complex properties and natural sugars of the wheat take the main stage. i've used the biga before and made terrific italian bread with it. i haven't decided yet how i'll used these. i made ciabatta once without any of these and it was good, but BBA has ciabatta recipes for either a poolish or a biga, so i may try both of those and see which i like best.

Chapter 3

the chilly rain seemed to evaporate immediately from cardigan as he walked into the cozy confines of Poor Yorick's Pub. he hung his coat by the door and took a seat at the bar, greeting owner danny blake with a grunt. "what's on the menu today, danny boy?"

blake grabbed a pint glass and begin filling it with guinness. "shepherd's pie. interested?" blake raised a playful eye at his good friend and best customer.

"you read my mind, buddy. perfect for a nasty day like this." cardigan could eat most anything, and especially most anything that danny made, but shepherd's pie was a particular favorite. danny never used ground meat for his--rather, he stripped the meat from leftover braised lamb shanks, using the braising liquid as the base for the gravy. he also mashed roasted parsnips into the potato topping, giving the pie a distinctly different and pleasing flavor.

blake placed the pint on a coaster and walked into the back to get the shepherd's pie. cardigan took a healthy swallow of the stout, licking the foam from his lips, and looked around the pub. a tweedy professor-type was nursing a bass ale, reading the local paper, and danny's daytime waitress rachel was pecking away on a laptop at the end of the bar. not much business, but cardigan knew that danny didn't mind. hell, he probably preferred it that way. he didn't seem to need the money; he treated the pub as more of a hobby. he offered only two beers: guinness stout and bass ale, and didn't stock any liquor or wine. he offered tea--iced or hot--but no coffee, along with classic coke, ginger ale, and water. he only served one dish each day: whatever he felt like making, which might be nothing more than a corned beef sandwich. he didn't have a jukebox; he preferred to choose the music himself than give random customers that kind of power. there was a snooker table, despite the fact that only about 10 people in town knew how to play. in short, the pub was geared toward his likes and dislikes, not his customers.

when blake returned with the steaming shepherd's pie, cardigan was just finishing up his pint. "damn. i don't have anything to wash it down with now."

blake nodded. "yeah, that's a problem. i'll see what i can do." he pulled another draught and set it down. "what're you working on today?"

cardigan was fanning his open mouth, cursing. "dammit, that's hot!"

"yeah. most people figure that out when that see that smoky-looking stuff rising off the surface. scientists call that 'steam' and they say, well, in layman's terms, they say it's hot."

cardian took a quick sip and dug his fork in again. "it's good, though." he broke off another piece and let it sit there to cool off. "a missing person case. guy named james livermore, a chef from a place called Verona. know it?"

"i've seen it, but never been there. seems popular."

blake nodded, chewing. "it is, and livermore is a big reason why. he went missing last week and the owner is freaking out. he moved to that upscale location because livermore was pulling in a huge costumer base at his old location."

"if he's that good, i'm sorry i never made it over there." danny looked interested.

cardigan shook his head. "it wasn't the food as much as his personality. they have one of those open-air kitchens where the customers can watch their food being made, and he'd entertain them while he cooked, doing impersonations. the owner said he was damn good and could do anybody from john wayne to homer simpson."

blake was fixing himself a cup of tea, squeezing a little honey into the mug. "if he was so good, why wasn't he in vegas?"

"the owner said that people asked livermore that all the time, and he always answered that his true passion was cooking. you know, like yours," cardigan grinned as he pushed the last forkful into his mouth.

"nah, my true passion is mixed-martial arts. they call me The Lawgiver!" he flexed his arms, showing off his barely perceptible biceps.

"uh huh." cardigan swallowed the last of his pint. "you keep telling yourself that." he placed a folded $20 on the bar. "i'm meeting a friend of his at 2 o'clock. hopefully, she'll have something for me. later."

"see ya, gav"

Chapter 2

as cardigan settled into his dodge, the sweet tones of "the eyes of texas" rang out from his shirt pocket. he flipped open his phone and muttered, "cardigan."

"hello, mr. cardigan. my name is sierra charles. i'm returning your call from yesterday. how may i help you?"

the woman's voice was rich, slightly breathy. she had the kind of voice that was almost familiar, as if he'd only heard it in a recurring dream, not the waking world. he paused, hoping she would continue, then shook himself back to the present when she hesitantly asked, "mr. cardigan? are you there?"

"sorry about that," he responded hurriedly. "yes, ms. charles, thank you for calling me back. i'm a private investigator and i'd like to talk to you about a mr. james livermore. could we meet somewhere?"

"james? i see....sure, i can meet you, mr. cardigan." she sounded as if she dealt with this sort of thing every day. "how about 2 o'clock at Othello's, that coffee shop near the university?"

"that works for me. i'll see you there, ms. charles, and thanks." he ended the call and drummed his finngers on the steering wheel, wondering how to fill the next 3 hours before the interview at Othello's. the rumble in his stomach answered the question for him: lunch.

Portuguese Sweet Bread

another recipe from BBA today: portuguese sweet bread. doesn't it look lovely? sweet, enriched with a couple of eggs, flavored with orange, lemon, and vanilla extract. reinhart says it makes fabulous french toast or bread pudding. i hope so, because this was a disaster. i mean, i waited all day long for this thing to rise, until i couldn't wait any longer. the recipe calls for 2 hours for the initial rise, and 2-3 for the final proof, but....i didn't much action either time. i managed to obtain the desired deep mahogany color, and the bread is edible if heavy, but....i'm not happy with it. not only am i not happy with the lack of rise, but i'm also not a fan of the orange and lemon extract flavor...it's awfully strong and....extract-y tasting. i'd like to try this bread again, and succeed, but i may look to substitute fresh orange and lemon zest rather than use the extracts.

Chapter 1

he was a dark and stormy knight. at least, that's how gavin cardigan liked to think of himself: taller than most, with thick black hair and deep-set grey eyes that, in his opinion, deserved immediate respect and complicity from those he interviewed. unfortunately, dr. millie sheffler was apparently farsighted and didn't know she was in the presence of such an imposing private investigator.

"dr. sheffler, can you tell me why your patient, james livermore, scheduled an appointment with you last week?"

she waved him away, clearly annoyed. "that is between the patient and his doctor, mr. cardigan. surely, you must know that."

"yes, but this particular patient has been missing for 6 days--in fact, he missed his appointment with you, so technically he wasn't even your patient yet. i'm only asking you what his symptoms were, not for a diagnosis." he affected a look of genuine concern. "it might help us locate him. he may need medical attention."

he may as well have appealed to water not to be wet. "i don't see it that way, mr. cardigan. when he made that appointment, he chose me as his doctor. he made a commitment to me, and i intend to honor it. now, please get on with your work and let me get on with mine."

she led him out to the front door, not giving him a chance to speak to her receptionist. he held out a couple of his cards to her. "if you think of anything that could help, please let me know." as he walked out into the slanting rain, cardigan's mood soured even more. two days into searching for the missing chef, and he didn't know one thing more about him than before he started. who the hell was this livermore guy, and why had he disappeared?

Cinnamon Raisin Bread

bread number two today was cinnamon raisin bread from BBA. reinhart also adds walnuts to his, but i left them out. i also decided against the optional cinnamon swirl and the optional cinnamon topping as i wanted to keep it in the "bread" family rather than the "dessert" family. i had to go out to buy some medium-sized loaf pans for this recipe as i only had large ones. i thought they turned out very nice, and will toast very well for breakfast. since the recipe makes two loaves, one of them may be destined for a bread pudding. i reckon i'm okay with that.

Light Wheat Dinner Rolls

since i didn't prepare a biga or poolish last night, i decided that for one of today's breads i would use the light wheat bread recipe in peter reinhart's "the bread baker's apprentice" (hereafter referred to as BBA here in the Pub) to make dinner rolls. i'm glad i did, as they turned out great--soft and puffy, with the ratio of about 1/3 whole wheat flour to 2/3 regular unbleached bread flour making the taste and texture more interesting than regular white dinner rolls. i'll definitely be making this again.