Half Baked
I've been baking lately. It seems such an unnecessary thing these days, but in reality we've just traded taste for convience. And we pay more for it. But it's brought to mind for me all the many generations of women before me who baked every day.
A few years ago, my sister (you know the one) planned a special trip to go visit our grandma. To learn all of her old and wonderful recipes for breads and rolls and desserts and cakes. My sister brought a brand new recipe box full of recipe cards, each labeled with what she guessed was the name of the item: "Dinner Rolls" "Angel Food Cake" And my sister sat down at my grandma's table and pulled out each card, one by one, and asked for my grandma's recipe. And my grandma said, "Shit, girl. These are all from the Betty Crocker cookbook. You can have mine if you want." I love my grandma.
The mother-in-law of another sister had a great story of being a young bride. Her husband went out to the field one morning and she decided to try to bake him some bread for the first time. So she mixed and waited and waited and waited, but the bread never raised (raised, really? It's not "rose"? Huh.). She was so embarrassed and didn't want her husband to find out about the failure, so she went out into the yard and buried the lump of dough in the dirt. A few hours later, her husband came home and called her out into the yard. "What is THIS?!" he asked, pointing at the big raised dirt bubble growing in his yard. Ha.
My own baking adventures have been largely uneventful. So far...
A few years ago, my sister (you know the one) planned a special trip to go visit our grandma. To learn all of her old and wonderful recipes for breads and rolls and desserts and cakes. My sister brought a brand new recipe box full of recipe cards, each labeled with what she guessed was the name of the item: "Dinner Rolls" "Angel Food Cake" And my sister sat down at my grandma's table and pulled out each card, one by one, and asked for my grandma's recipe. And my grandma said, "Shit, girl. These are all from the Betty Crocker cookbook. You can have mine if you want." I love my grandma.
The mother-in-law of another sister had a great story of being a young bride. Her husband went out to the field one morning and she decided to try to bake him some bread for the first time. So she mixed and waited and waited and waited, but the bread never raised (raised, really? It's not "rose"? Huh.). She was so embarrassed and didn't want her husband to find out about the failure, so she went out into the yard and buried the lump of dough in the dirt. A few hours later, her husband came home and called her out into the yard. "What is THIS?!" he asked, pointing at the big raised dirt bubble growing in his yard. Ha.
My own baking adventures have been largely uneventful. So far...
2 Comments:
Are you experimenting with gluten free baking?
Nope. The kids have always preferred store-bought gluten-free bread (they like Good Life's Brown Rice frozen bread).
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