Lesson 1. I suck at baking bread.
But being an optimist, I always think it's because I haven't triedvery hard enough. So I tried it again Monday night. Dough looked good (why didn't I go to Mark Bittman first?), I had new fresh yeast on hand, and it was actually growing. But then, things slowed down. My generous schedule got tighter, in that daylight savings time was making me sleepy, but I needed MORE second-rising yeast action before I could bake it, and then 40 minutes for baking. So I went to bed, and baked it when I woke up. Hot buttered bread for breakfast! Which didn't suck, when I think about it.
(It was so nice, I braved a run-in with a huge spider on the bread knife this morning. Well, I waited until he went to investigate a different knife in the block. Then I snatched my serrated knife, which actually wasn't the bread knife but would have to do, and got my slice for the toaster. Realizing that the knife block was right next to the coffee maker was my next problem... but the spider was really into a paring knife by that point.)
Lesson 2. Some things should be left to the professionals.
The bread that I bought Friday from the Victorian Bakery was just dandy. Said bakery is, what, 4 blocks away? Why am I doing this to myself?
It started with the Sarkozy Bakery fire. We probably stuffed an oatmeal loaf a week in our collective craws, if not two loaves. It was simple, delicious bread and it was no longer available. How hard could it be? I am handy, crafty, smart. I have cookbooks. I CAN FOLLOW DIRECTIONS! which is pretty much the theory of my life.
But as you could probably surmise, I was lacking time. I don't have the simple farm girl schedule. Bread baking is a time-sucking old-world housewife drag. Bread machines seem like yuppie cop-out techniques. Walk to the bakery, or stop on the way home. It's the easiest way.
Lesson 3. Carbs! I am delusional.
The most ridiculous part of this, I don't even really eat bread (in my mind). Nope, I never eat bread. Except for the occasional slice of toast for breakfast. And grilled cheese sandwiches. And freshly baked bread. So, in an effort to replace a food item I don't actually eat, I quadrupled my bread consumption.
You're right. I've actually learned nothing.
But being an optimist, I always think it's because I haven't tried
(It was so nice, I braved a run-in with a huge spider on the bread knife this morning. Well, I waited until he went to investigate a different knife in the block. Then I snatched my serrated knife, which actually wasn't the bread knife but would have to do, and got my slice for the toaster. Realizing that the knife block was right next to the coffee maker was my next problem... but the spider was really into a paring knife by that point.)
Lesson 2. Some things should be left to the professionals.
The bread that I bought Friday from the Victorian Bakery was just dandy. Said bakery is, what, 4 blocks away? Why am I doing this to myself?
It started with the Sarkozy Bakery fire. We probably stuffed an oatmeal loaf a week in our collective craws, if not two loaves. It was simple, delicious bread and it was no longer available. How hard could it be? I am handy, crafty, smart. I have cookbooks. I CAN FOLLOW DIRECTIONS! which is pretty much the theory of my life.
But as you could probably surmise, I was lacking time. I don't have the simple farm girl schedule. Bread baking is a time-sucking old-world housewife drag. Bread machines seem like yuppie cop-out techniques. Walk to the bakery, or stop on the way home. It's the easiest way.
Lesson 3. Carbs! I am delusional.
The most ridiculous part of this, I don't even really eat bread (in my mind). Nope, I never eat bread. Except for the occasional slice of toast for breakfast. And grilled cheese sandwiches. And freshly baked bread. So, in an effort to replace a food item I don't actually eat, I quadrupled my bread consumption.
You're right. I've actually learned nothing.
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