Speaking of unsuccesses...
The intended title of this post was going to be, "So there, Alyssa :-)"
As some of you know, Myles and I enjoy playdates with some of my friends and their children. Alyssa's is one that is great for some many reasons. First of all, it is great to see Alyussa. She is a lot of fun. Secondly, she is an amazing cook. Lunch at her house is usally some sort of organic spinach and guyere crepe, or homemade bean and tofu tortilla soup, or something with more than 4 ingredients (my usual max), and always with her homemade bread. I told her once that in my imagined life for her, she and her family eat that way all the time, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She looked at me like I were crazy, and answered so matter-of-factly, "Well, yeah we do." As if to say, "why wouldn't we?" and "who doesn't?"
She makes her own yogurt (which she assures me is simple and idiot-proof). She makes her own household cleaning products and laundry soap, lye-, dye-, and tallow- free. She cans like crazy. Her jellies are to die for. Not only does she bake her own bread EVERYDAY, she bakes it from organic flour her aunt and uncle grind in their own gristmill from their own organic wheat. And yeah, she sews and paints and does all kinds of stuff that I would hire someone to do for me.
And it is further remarkable that she does all this, takes care of her son Xavier who is roughly the same age as Myles (and watches ZERO television, by the way), and works almost fulltime! She runs her own fine arts school, which includes piano students, flute students, flute ensembles, creative writing students, and I think even some painting or drawing students.
So last night I had an appetite for bread, but it was shortly after Myles ahd fallen asleep, so going anywhere to get some was out of the question. So I decided to make some, homemade, and then brag on the blog the next day about my domestic strides. Long-time friends and occassional readers will know how anything is going to turn out for me if I go into something, thinking I will be able to celebrate it on a webpage called Ambrose-a-Rama.
First of all, homemade bread for me anymore means I do it in the bread machine. God bless the inventer of that thing. I have in the past, very distant past, attempted my hand at real bread baking, with mixed results. Out of 4 tries, I had 2 good loaves followed by 2 very bad loaves.
So I get out the bread machine, and do the careful measurements thing, because with a bread machine you must precisely follow the indicated recipe. When you are doing it yourself, you can vary the recipe and go by feel, but the bread machine forgives no one. So I pour everything in, set it to go, and go to bed.
When Myles and I got up the next morning (his latest wake-up call to me is a rather demanding, "Mommy, it is time to WAKE UP," as if to say, I've let you laze around long enough, lady), and went to the kitchen, I felt the sides of the machine. Still a little warm. I opened the lid, ah, crust, and a slightly warm bread smell. Popping the slightly-smaller-than-expected loaf from the pan, I noticed it felt in my hands a little--heavy. I sliced it up and, yup, dense. Denser than cake.
Now I have followed this recipe before, with great results. I got it from my Grandma, and it was one she and my Grandpa used to use all the time in their bread machine (like so many other kitchen appliances and useful--not trendy--devices, they had one long before I had even heard of such a thing). But I don't understand food chemistry well enough, okay, AT ALL, so I have no idea what I did wrong, or what in the environment of my house was a problem--too humid? too cool a night with the windows left open? I mean, it can't be that hard to see and taste the results and determine the root cause, can it? I mean, I can look at a plastic part or pressed metal part or a ceramic part, look at some blemish or surface condition or note the density of it, ask a few questions, and make reasonable guesses of potential root causes, occassionally even getting it right on my own. With my errors in food, I am totally a moron. I don't even know where to begin. Can it be that hard? I mean this is bread, not 45% glass-filled liquid crystal polymer. Why is it I can practically look at an injection molded mylon part and reasonably guess by the gate vestige and surface finish the approximate mold temperature (okay, maybe not so much these days, but I can guess too hot, too cold, or just right), but I can't even imagine why my bread is awful?
Oh well. Thank goodness we live near a Whole Foods, a few really good bakeries, and, believe it or not if you have spent any time living in southwestern PA, a really nice Shop and Save (yeah you read THAT right). All I need now is a Wegman's and I can dispose of all cooking utensils, or at least store them until Randy's next visit home.
As some of you know, Myles and I enjoy playdates with some of my friends and their children. Alyssa's is one that is great for some many reasons. First of all, it is great to see Alyussa. She is a lot of fun. Secondly, she is an amazing cook. Lunch at her house is usally some sort of organic spinach and guyere crepe, or homemade bean and tofu tortilla soup, or something with more than 4 ingredients (my usual max), and always with her homemade bread. I told her once that in my imagined life for her, she and her family eat that way all the time, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She looked at me like I were crazy, and answered so matter-of-factly, "Well, yeah we do." As if to say, "why wouldn't we?" and "who doesn't?"
She makes her own yogurt (which she assures me is simple and idiot-proof). She makes her own household cleaning products and laundry soap, lye-, dye-, and tallow- free. She cans like crazy. Her jellies are to die for. Not only does she bake her own bread EVERYDAY, she bakes it from organic flour her aunt and uncle grind in their own gristmill from their own organic wheat. And yeah, she sews and paints and does all kinds of stuff that I would hire someone to do for me.
And it is further remarkable that she does all this, takes care of her son Xavier who is roughly the same age as Myles (and watches ZERO television, by the way), and works almost fulltime! She runs her own fine arts school, which includes piano students, flute students, flute ensembles, creative writing students, and I think even some painting or drawing students.
So last night I had an appetite for bread, but it was shortly after Myles ahd fallen asleep, so going anywhere to get some was out of the question. So I decided to make some, homemade, and then brag on the blog the next day about my domestic strides. Long-time friends and occassional readers will know how anything is going to turn out for me if I go into something, thinking I will be able to celebrate it on a webpage called Ambrose-a-Rama.
First of all, homemade bread for me anymore means I do it in the bread machine. God bless the inventer of that thing. I have in the past, very distant past, attempted my hand at real bread baking, with mixed results. Out of 4 tries, I had 2 good loaves followed by 2 very bad loaves.
So I get out the bread machine, and do the careful measurements thing, because with a bread machine you must precisely follow the indicated recipe. When you are doing it yourself, you can vary the recipe and go by feel, but the bread machine forgives no one. So I pour everything in, set it to go, and go to bed.
When Myles and I got up the next morning (his latest wake-up call to me is a rather demanding, "Mommy, it is time to WAKE UP," as if to say, I've let you laze around long enough, lady), and went to the kitchen, I felt the sides of the machine. Still a little warm. I opened the lid, ah, crust, and a slightly warm bread smell. Popping the slightly-smaller-than-expected loaf from the pan, I noticed it felt in my hands a little--heavy. I sliced it up and, yup, dense. Denser than cake.
Now I have followed this recipe before, with great results. I got it from my Grandma, and it was one she and my Grandpa used to use all the time in their bread machine (like so many other kitchen appliances and useful--not trendy--devices, they had one long before I had even heard of such a thing). But I don't understand food chemistry well enough, okay, AT ALL, so I have no idea what I did wrong, or what in the environment of my house was a problem--too humid? too cool a night with the windows left open? I mean, it can't be that hard to see and taste the results and determine the root cause, can it? I mean, I can look at a plastic part or pressed metal part or a ceramic part, look at some blemish or surface condition or note the density of it, ask a few questions, and make reasonable guesses of potential root causes, occassionally even getting it right on my own. With my errors in food, I am totally a moron. I don't even know where to begin. Can it be that hard? I mean this is bread, not 45% glass-filled liquid crystal polymer. Why is it I can practically look at an injection molded mylon part and reasonably guess by the gate vestige and surface finish the approximate mold temperature (okay, maybe not so much these days, but I can guess too hot, too cold, or just right), but I can't even imagine why my bread is awful?
Oh well. Thank goodness we live near a Whole Foods, a few really good bakeries, and, believe it or not if you have spent any time living in southwestern PA, a really nice Shop and Save (yeah you read THAT right). All I need now is a Wegman's and I can dispose of all cooking utensils, or at least store them until Randy's next visit home.
Comments
Dahling,
Firstly, THANK you for all the nice comments! Your check will be issued shortly. Secondly, baking bread is a finicky bitch of a process sometimes . . . when you come over, you're actually eating like the fourth loaf I attempted that day. Maybe humidity, but not that likely in an enclosed, controlled environment like your bread machine. Did the wet stuff touch the dry stuff? Apparently that's a no-no in the dog-eat-dog world of bread machines. Not sure what to tell you, other than come over soon, and I'll make you a few loaves to take home. Hope all is well with you and yours.
XOXO Aly