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There’s a jar of barley sprouting on top of my refrigerator, and it is destined to be part of my first foray into sprouted bread. Manna, also called “Essene” bread is some pretty ancient stuff that apparently dates back to biblical times. I did an image search and came up with the enticing picture above, blogged by someone walking the Silk Road through Turkey and Kyrgyzstan.

Manna is usually made with wheat berries, but I am partial to barley lately, and am hoping that it will turn out like the barley rusks I loved to eat in salads in Greece. There were entire bakeries there devoted to making these dried bread rounds. Rusks are dark, like pumpernickel. The salad was called Dakos and is similar to the Italian panzanella in that you wait for the bread to dry out, and then serve it as a base for or crumble into the salad. It then soaks up all the juices from the vegetables and simple dressing of lemon and olive oil.

My favorite meal in Greece: Bread Salad.

Both rusks and manna bread are baked at low temperature, around 200 to 250 degrees. (Think I’ll try mine in the dehydrator!) Neither one contains yeast or leavening of any kind. Sometimes dried nuts and fruit are ground along with the grain to add flavor and richness. Dates and almonds are my current pick.

Since I learned how to sprout a few months ago–and even made my own sprouting jar, I have found it to be so easy. Mung beans, lentils, chickpeas…I put them on salads, in sandwiches, or just eat out of hand for a snack. Now it’s time to take it to the next level!

The past few weeks have been all about yoga and dark leafy greens for me as I focus on improving my physical state (It’s working!). Manna bread is just what I’m craving to replace traditional baked wheat bread, of which I have been consuming less. I’m curious to know: do you find yourself eating less bread lately? What do you use to replace it?

Earlier this month, I taught a holiday confections class at The Brooklyn Kitchen. We made peppermint caramels, maple-glazed hazelnut halva, sugarplums (my favorite) and chocolate toffee brittle.

When I teach, it feels like I learn just as much as the students. For example, while demonstrating the caramel recipe, I became distracted (talking + cooking = sweat) and added the coconut milk all at once. It was supposed to be in two parts; one at the beginning and the rest after the mixture reached 230 degrees. So we also made a second, true-to-recipe batch.

It wasn’t necessary–the first one turned out perfectly.

I should have pretended to do it on purpose. Earlier, I’d told the class how it’s a misconception that baking/pastry/dessert-making is an “exact science.” On the contrary, my best discoveries are sometimes made through improvisation, tinkering and mistakes–and this was a perfect example.

Sugarplums (left) & maple-glazed hazelnut halva (right). Thank you to Nashville Wraps for the perfect, 100% recycled candy boxes.

Later in the class, one of the students added some whole hazelnuts to a bowl of confectioner’s sugar to make the maple glaze. I caught her just before she was going to add the syrup and vanilla. After explaining that the hazelnuts were to decorate after glazing, she fished them out of the sugar and placed them aside.

After glazing, each piece of halva was topped with a hazelnut–now coated with a light layer of confectioner’s sugar. The result was more beautiful, elegant halva. The sugar gave the candy a snowy, wintry look and a French patisserie feel.

Just like mutations create beneficial properties so that species can evolve, a chance mistake caused an unforseen improvement I never would have thought of otherwise. Next time I make this recipe, I will incorporate this new step.

Thank you students! You have no idea how much you inspire me.