Bagels by Bubba

Bubba’s actual factual bagels baked today!

Ingredients

  • 2 teaspoons / 6 g active dry yeast
  • 4 ½ teaspoons / 19 g granulated sugar
  • 1 ¼ cups / 300 ml warm water (you may need ± ¼ cup /60 ml more)
  • 3 ½ cups / 440 g bread flour or high gluten flour (you may need up to 1/2 cup / 60g for kneading)
  • 1 ½ teaspoons / 6 g salt
  • Optional Toppings: (Refer to Notes)

Instructions

  • In ½ cup /120ml of the warm water, pour in the sugar and yeast. Do not stir. Let it sit for five minutes, and then stir the yeast and sugar mixture until it all dissolves in the water.
  • Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Make a well in the middle and pour in the yeast and sugar mixture.
  • Pour 1/3 cup / 80ml of warm water into the well. Mix and stir in the rest of the water as needed. Depending on where you live, you may need to add an additional couple tablespoons to about ¼ cup/60ml of water. You want a moist and firm dough after you have mixed it.
  • On a floured countertop, knead the dough for about 10 minutes until it is smooth and elastic. Try working in as much flour as possible to form a firm and stiff dough.
  • Lightly brush a large bowl with oil and turn the dough to coat. Cover the bowl with a damp dish towel. Let rise in a warm place for 1 hour, until the dough has doubled in size. Punch the dough down, and let it rest for another 10 minutes.
  • Carefully divide the dough into 8 pieces (I used a scale to be extra precise, but it’s not necessary). Shape each piece into a round. Now, take a dough ball, and press it gently against the countertop (or whatever work surface you’re using) moving your hand and the ball in a circular motion pulling the dough into itself while reducing the pressure on top of the dough slightly until a perfect dough ball forms (as pictured). Repeat with 7 other dough rounds.
  • Coat a finger in flour, and gently press your finger into the center of each dough ball to form a ring. Stretch the ring to about ⅓ the diameter of the bagel and place on a lightly oiled cookie sheet. Repeat the same step with the remaining dough.
  • After shaping the dough rounds and placing them on the cookie sheet, cover with a damp kitchen towel and allow to rest for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 425ºF / 220ºC / Gas Mark 7.
  • Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Reduce the heat. Use a slotted spoon or skimmer to lower the bagels into the water. Boil as many as you are comfortable with boiling. Once the bagels are in, it shouldn’t take too long for them to float to the top (a couple seconds). Let them sit there for 1 minute, and then flip them over to boil for another minute. Extend the boiling times to 2 minutes each, if you’d prefer a chewier bagel (results will give you a more New York-Style bagel with this option).
  • If you want to add toppings to your bagels, do so as you take them out of the water. Alternatively, you can use an egg wash to get the toppings to stick before baking the bagels. You may want to use the “Optional Toppings” listed above to top the bagels. Use just one topping, or a combination to make your own Everything Bagel Seasoning.
  • Once all the bagels have boiled (and have been topped with your choice of toppings), transfer them to an oiled or parchment-lined baking sheet.
  • Bake for 20 – 25 minutes, or until golden brown (I usually err on the side of 20 minutes).
  • Cool on a wire rack (Or, if you’re impatient like I am, slice one of these babies open and spread on some of your favorite cream cheese or softened butter. Take a bite… Oh babyyy!)

Who am I? The Original Rock

cbc.ca

My good friends Siôn, Sara and Peter have asked me to write a little bit about myself. I’m not very good at this stuff, my online dating profile is awful and nobody ever swipes right on Tinder but I’ll give it a go.
At heart I’m still a fisherman from that small lakeside town of Bethsaida. My father, Jonah, was also a fisherman as was my little brother Andrew. Andi and I argued a lot but he’s a good kid really. It was him that introduced me a carpenter called Joshua but more of that later.
Growing up in northern Palestine wasn’t easy; we didn’t have much but as kids but we played in the lake and learnt how to sail and fish from my father. The local snobs called us “Am Harez” (people of the land) but it wasn’t used in a nice way and the kids of the well to do used to make fun of us in the Synagogue schools. I was a mouthy guy even then and my ‘act first ask questions later’ attitude got me into a lot of trouble. Still we were better fighters than them and I never went home on the losing side of an argument. I can still hear my mother shouting at me, “Simon, you’ve been fighting again, wait until your father gets home!”
I went through the usual Bar Mitzvah and went to the Synagogue when I had to, I would much rather sit on my boat with my mates James and John (the sons of Zebedee) and catch a few fish and tell a few stories than listen to those boring Rabbis rabbit on. As we got older we got braver and we’d even sail to some far off places to see the ladies and it was on one such visit to Capernaum that I met my future wife. Not long after that trip I moved there to live with the mother in law but I never lost touch with my brother and friends.
Andi was always a dreamer – chasing after this preacher or the next and one day he came to me saying he’d found the Messiah. He’d been following that crackpot John the Baptiser but I had nothing else to do that day so I went with him to meet this “messiah” who turned out to be the son of a carpenter from Nazareth named Joshua or as you know him Jesus. He was actually an okay guy with some fun stories and a good sense of humour; not your usual dry, smelly prophet – he even knew a bit about fishing.
A few days later me and the boys were down by the lake when this Jesus guy walks up to us and asks us to follow him because he will make us ‘fishers of men’. Awful line I know but I was interested so me, Andi, James and John became some of the first followers of Jesus.
For a while it didn’t make much difference. We still went to work and occasionally we’d go and listen to Jesus talk but slowly, over the next few months, Jesus began to take up more and more of my time. 
The crowds grew, I’ll give him that, Jesus could preach, and every so often I’d lend him my boat and he’d stand in it and talk to the people on the shore. After these little speeches we’d do a little fishing and he’d tell us where to fish and we always got a big catch.
Things started to change for me when it got personal. Yes I’d seen Jesus ‘heal’ a few people but I’d never been convinced it wasn’t all a set up until my mother in law was sick. She had one of those fevers that could go either way. They would last for weeks and the sick would either slowly get better or we’d be burying them in a few days. Well she was lying in bed sick and Jesus came to the house. He was hungry so he healed her and she made him breakfast. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, but I was there and it happened. (My mate Matthew wrote about it in his book – chapter 8 verses 14-17). From then on things changed for me and I got serious about what Jesus was saying.
That’s not to say I didn’t make an idiot of myself from time to time – the embarrassing story of the water walking (or more correctly the water sinking incident) stands out. I thought I could do it and I did manage to walk few steps but have you ever tried to walk on a stormy sea without sinking? Let me tell you I did better than you would. 
I saw many other signs and miracles, far too many to mention here but because of those I was the first one to admit that Jesus was the Messiah (and he told me not to tell anyone, work that out??) but I did more stupid things than good ones. I told Jesus not to wash my feet at that supper party he had and later that night when the officials came to arrest him I cut off some servants ear. Yes, I also betrayed him 3 times that night – but you face the might of the Roman authorities and try not to waver. I learnt my lesson, that night but more of that later too. I wasn’t really around for the crucifixion and I’m pleased I wasn’t but I was the first at the tomb that Sunday morning. I didn’t believe it that Jesus was alive but I was first there. I always could run faster than John.
In the days after Jesus came back he forgave me and I began to live up to the name he gave me – Peter. I like it – and I take it to mean the Rock – don’t listen to that silly doctor Luke who said it could mean crag or even pretty stone. Rubbish – it means ROCK, big, solid, unmoving Rock!!
After Jesus went back into Heaven people started to look to me as a ‘leader’ of this new movement called the Church and it wasn’t just the “Christians”. I was arrested twice by the Jewish authorities; God spoke to me and told me it was okay to eat bacon sandwiches (best thing ever) and that it was ok to talk to non jewish people too and my good friend Cornelius was the first of them to join us.
I won’t dwell on this but I was arrested and then freed by an angel, that’s a great story!
I’m heading to Rome now. Don’t think it will be a very eventful trip but if it is I’ll let you all know.
See you soon, 
SP.


Chocolate Moose

(or Mousse)

Couple of small pots of homemade chocolate mousse
  • The ingredients you’ll need are:
  • 6 x 60-gram eggs separated (one egg per person if you are adjusting)
  • 300ml Cream
  • 200 grams Chocolate 

Like most recipes there are several ways to make mousse.

I’ve been making this recipe for over 40 years.

It has no added sugar and no gelatine.

Equipment to make: Bowls, saucepan and a whisk.

To serve: individual glasses (If you’re so inclined a Lindt ball can be placed in the bottom of the glass as a surprise)

Ingredients:

6 x 60-gram eggs separated

300ml Cream

200 grams Chocolate

Make a sabayon (this is the method of cooking the eggs gently in a bowl over steam) Cook until thick and glossy. (BUT be careful not to scramble the yolks)

Melt the chocolate gently over steam avoid burning the chocolate.

I use good quality dark and milk (not Cadbury it’s too sweet)

Beat the egg whites until still peaks appear.

Beat the cream (add some vanilla extract if you like) BUT don’t make butter!!

Fold sabayon and melted chocolate together.

Fold in the beaten whites.

Fold in the cream.

Spoon into serving glasses.

Set in Fridge.


A Jesus party!

Rowan Atkinson: (just for fun)

Jesus and twelve of the disciples walk into a bar.

Jesus says to the person behind the bar, thirteen glasses of water please, turns to the disciples and winks.

Did Jesus like a good party and collecting wine?

Or is the story of Jesus first miracle at a wedding of turning water into wine more than about the wine and the marriage feast?

This story is like a mini drama, a marriage was big do in the cultural context, the embarrassment as the host didn’t order enough wine from the local wine merchant Theophilus Murphy, Jesus mother getting involved and the wait staff watching with interest to see how this disaster would play out.

If NetFlix was around at the time of this story it would have made a mini -series of it and imagine the Twitter FB frenzy!!

What was going on? was it as one of my mates says, shows Jesus knew how to party? did it show Jesus understood the customs and culture of the time, maybe, or is there more to this story?

There is one account of this event, there are witnesses to this event, which is interesting because there were stories going around of others turning water into wine.

Some other questions we might ask ourselves.

Was Jesus just a magician?

What’s this calling Mary Woman and not Mum (Mom)?

Was Jesus a party animal?

Was this event a significant shift in history?

Was the incarnation about to get really serious?

I have read several blogs and articles story, some are helpful, some use it as an opportunity to ‘dismantle’ other peoples’ theological thoughts.

Take some time to listen to the piece of music attached called Water into wine by Canadian singer Bruce Cockburn and as you do close you eyes or read the story again. YouTube Bruce Cockburn Water into wine.

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Category : #Jesus , Uncategorized


Good Samaritan

I’m not sure what annoys me most about this story.

Is it then way the term Good Samaritan is used in good news stories, to describe when someone helps someone out? or the fact we still debate who is my neighbour? you get the drift.

Many words like neighbour and hospitality mean different thinks to people from different cultures.

We have narrowed them to mean, the people next door, or people like us, or having friends over for a BBQ and a drink.

I was reminded of this last year when door knocking with VVCE after a incident in the suburbs where murder had taken place in a park.

We were following up people in the street to ensure they were able to access any support they might need.

The person I was working with knocked on one door, the occupants were from the Middle East, we were invited in as strangers, given water and offered food.

Offering hospitality and concept of neighbour to ‘other’ is understood by many cultures quite differently to how we see it as Westerners (although we are learning).

Context means everything and to understand this story.

There has been many conversations about why the people who didn’t stop didn’t stop, some reasons have been suggested however there appears to be no such discussion in the biblical account of the story.

The point seems to be that people didn’t stop because the main character was from an ethnic group who were not liked, in-fact they were hated.

Please note the difference of not loving is not hate, it is indifference, and Samaritans were hated.

People did not just walk past, they stopped weighed up the options and made a decision to keep walking.

Does the story raise questions for you and your understanding of neighbour and hospitality? It does for me.

Illustration Taken from the Complete Works of Henry Lawson

Australian Poet henry Lawson wrote several poems using biblical stories here is one.

He comes from out the ages dim—

The good Samaritan;

I somehow never pictured him

A fat and jolly man;

But one who’d little joy to glean,

And little coin to give—

A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,

Who found it hard to live.

His eyes were haggard in the drought,

His hair was iron-grey—

His dusty gown was patched, no doubt,

Where we patch pants to-day.

His faded turban, too, was torn—

But darned and folded neat,

And leagues of desert sand had worn

The sandals on his feet.

He’s been a fool, perhaps, and would

Have prospered had he tried,

But he was one who never could

Pass by the other side.

An honest man whom men called soft,

While laughing in their sleeves—

No doubt in business ways he oft

Had fallen amongst thieves.

And, I suppose, by track and tent,

And other ancient ways,

He drank, and fought, and loved, and went

The pace in his young days.

And he had known the bitter year

When love and friendship fail—

I wouldn’t be surprised to hear

That he had been in jail.

A silent man, whose passions slept,

Who had no friends or foes—

A quiet man, who always kept

His hopes and sorrows close.

A man who very seldom smiled,

And one who could not weep

Be it for death of wife or child

Or sorrow still more deep.

But sometimes when a man would rave

Of wrong, as sinners do,

He’d say to cheer and make him brave

‘I’ve had my troubles too.’

(They might be twittered by the birds,

And breathed high Heaven through,

There’s beauty in those world-old words:

‘I’ve had my sorrows too.’)

And if he was a married man,

As many are that roam,

I guess that good Samaritan

Was rather glum at home,

Impatient when a child would fret,

And strict at times and grim—

A man whose kinsmen never yet

Appreciated him.

Howbeit—in a study brown—

He had for all we know,

His own thoughts as he journeyed down

The road to Jericho,

And pondered, as we puzzle yet,

On tragedies of life—

And maybe he was deep in debt

And parted from his wife.

(And so ‘by chance there came that way,’

It reads not like romance—

The truest friends on earth to-day,

They mostly come by chance.)

He saw a stranger left by thieves

Sore hurt and like to die—

He also saw (my heart believes)

The others pass him by.

(Perhaps that good Samaritan

Knew Levite well, and priest)

He lifted up the wounded man

And sat him on his beast,

And took him on towards the inn—

All Christ-like unawares—

Still pondering, perhaps, on sin

And virtue—and his cares.

He bore him in and fixed him right

(Helped by the local drunk),

And wined and oiled him well all night,

And thought beside his bunk.

And on the morrow ere he went

He left a quid and spoke

Unto the host in terms which meant—

‘Look after that poor bloke.’

He must have known them at the inn,

They must have known him too—

Perhaps on that same track he’d seen

Some other sick mate through;

For ‘Whatsoe’er thou spendest more’

(The parable is plain)

‘I will repay,’ he told the host,

‘When I return again.’

He seemed to be a good sort, too,

The boss of that old pub—

(As even now there are a few

At shanties in the scru .

The good Samaritan jogged on

Through Canaan’s dust and heat,

And pondered over various schemes

And ways to make ends meet.

He was no Christian, understand,

For Christ had not been born—

He journeyed later through the land

To hold the priests to scorn;

And tell the world of ‘certain men’

Like that Samaritan,

And preach the simple creed again—

Man’s duty! Man to man!

‘Once on a time there lived a man,’

But he has lived alway,

And that gaunt, good Samaritan

Is with us here to-day;

He passes through the city streets

Unnoticed and unknown,

He helps the sinner that he meets—

His sorrows are his own.

He shares his tucker on the track

When things are at their worst

(And often shouts in bars outback

For souls that are athirst).

To-day I see him staggering down

The blazing water-course,

And making for the distant town

With a sick man on his horse.

He’ll live while nations find their graves

And mortals suffer pain—

When colour rules and whites are slaves

And savages again.

And, after all is past and done,

He’ll rise up, the Last Man,

From tending to the last but one—

The good Samaritan.

Henry Lawson


Sourdough, COVID and Romans (oh my!)

The COVID-19 era has people doing things we once did as part of everyday life.

Staying home more, going out less, preparing food at home and who can explain the sour-dough phenomenon?? It even has me hooked!!

It all started when a cousin who is also a wine maker offered to send me some of her starter, which she has been using for seven years. She in turn got it from her Nona.

Those of you who know about sour dough, will know that it based on wild yeast, meaning the starter is a mix of only flour and water. Much like COVID-19 there is much going on silently in the starter, which just does its thing, while we attempt to ‘get back to normal’!!

Every few days a measured amount of flour and water are added to the starter. It then sits on the kitchen bench or in the fridge, where it develops and grows, silently, slowly and gently. When you’re ready to make a loaf, you measure a percentage of the starter out, and add carefully weighed amounts of flour, salt and water, making a dough. The dough is then rested for a period of time. After this the dough is turned over in 30-minute intervals until the dough develops. This process can take hours, depending on the room temperature., the dough is then turned out onto a floured surface and stretched, if in this process it breaks, it needs more resting.

Once it is stretchable, you can then shape it into what ever shape you like.

Mine goes into a cast iron pot.

The dough is then rested overnight, in the fridge or on the kitchen bench.

The next morning it is prepared to bake, but there is still a careful process to follow.

The oven and cooking vessel are heated to 235 degrees, once both vessel and oven have reached the desired temperature, the carefully shaped dough is placed in the pre-heated dish, small incisions are careful scored into the top of the dough, allowing the natural occurring gasses to escape. The first 30-minute cooking time is undertaken with the lid on the pot and is removed allowing the top to develop its golden crust. It is at this stage when the aromas of freshly baked bread fill the house, and entices you just rip a piece out and lather it with butter, BUT to do so is not wise.

You need to rest the bread, before turning it out onto a cooling rack and have a fabulous product ready to enjoy with lashings of butter, honey or vegemite, a bowl of soup or some cheese.

Peter, I hear you say, that’s a lot of work for a loaf of bread, there must be an easier way. Well, not with sour dough, which is much the same way we deal with COVID-19.

What do you mean it’s like how we deal with COVID-19??!!!

Well think about this….

There are no short-cuts, try that with sour dough as I did, and it’s an epic failure!!

Sour dough teaches patience, and being measured.

Did you know bakers weigh all ingredients,? yes, they do, including liquid, its more accurate!

A friend of mine who was a baker made his own wedding cake. Each piece of fruit was sorted and cut in half!! No messy chopping; no each individual cut in half, the results were stunning!! Process and taking care and time is important, but I digress!!, back to COVID-19.

As we may become a little impatient, and want to get back together to sing, chat share food and celebrate our Christian journey, we might think, let’s just take a short cut or two!!

I have a new found respect for sour dough, while it doesn’t ‘frighten’ me, as COVID-19 may ‘frighten’ us, we should respect the virus, and ensure we are measured in our approach, and so that when we are able to gather the experience will be all the ‘sweeter’.

Together let’s share and hear each -others concerns. Like me, who listens to experienced sour dough bread makers, learn patience. Let us listen to those who are helping us put processes into place, as we plan a way back to meeting together, in a way that ensures a good outcome for us all.

A reading from Romans:

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.


Freedom

In recent weeks many of the freedoms we take for granted have been taken away from us while we find ways to protect as many as possible from the virus.

Those who know me are aware I am the privileged owner of a motorcycle.

 Harley Davidson has often been marketed as a Freedom Machine, and I have to admit it does give you a sense of freedom. 

With open throttle releasing fuel through the 50 mm carburettor you over take the car or truck, with the sun on your back and the wind in your face cruising down the open road, riding the sweeping curves and open stretches of sealed road with the v-twin throbbing through fishtail exhaust for a brief moment there is a sense of freedom that pauses the cares of the day  if only temporally.

Once you’re home again and the helmet, gloves and cut has been removed the reality of life kicks in and the ride slowly becomes a memory, one that you hope can be revived another day.

Freedom true freedom does not, or so it appears to me to come from mere symbols of freedom, such as a motorcycle.

We have many symbols in our house, some of which are shown below.

But as I look at them, they don’t conjure images of freedom. They may represent the idea of freedom, but do they bring freedom?

There is one cross at the bottom, which we purchased while on the NSW South Coast a couple of years ago. Sadly, the town where the artist live was decimated during the fires last summer.

The artist is portraying the cost of, and sacrifice of war.

Toy soldiers lie at the base of the cross, the carcass of a dead sea bird has been placed on one side while in the other a $ symbol.

Freedom, true freedom comes at a cost, the other symbols one a cross the other a crucifix  these are also symbols of freedom, but again these of themselves are not what brings freedom, much like my desire to be free while riding, perhaps they represent a freedom which comes via the actions of one person, that is so much more than the mere representation of objects.

I wonder if in these trying times we gain comfort from the symbols around us, those things which are familiar, I know I do, BUT, what really inspires me more is the reality that true freedom and the thing that gets us through difficult times in that reality that true freedom comes from Jesus, who is the icon of God and who sent the Holy Spirit and here where true freedom is found.

Freedom that brings Peace, Joy and Love, in spite of the trying circumstance.


Upcoming Events

Sep
22
Tue
11:00 am Tuesday Tea Too
Tuesday Tea Too
Sep 22 @ 11:00 am – 12:00 pm
Stage 4 version: a second tea added during the six week Stay At Home order. Please contact the Elders, Ministers or Church Office for the Zoom information.
4:00 pm Tuesday Tea on Zoom
Tuesday Tea on Zoom
Sep 22 @ 4:00 pm – 5:00 pm
Please reach out to the church office, one of the Ministers or Elders for the meeting information!
Sep
23
Wed
10:00 am Bible Fellowship
Bible Fellowship
Sep 23 @ 10:00 am – 11:00 am
The event occurs on Zoom until further notice.  Contact the office or one of the ministers for the Meeting ID and password for the information!
Sep
27
Sun
2:30 pm Welsh Worship service
Welsh Worship service
Sep 27 @ 2:30 pm – 3:30 pm
Available on Facebook @melbwelshchurch  and on the media page of our website: www.melbournewelshchurch.com.au