A Bread Is Born?

Today is a big day. In order for this experiment to work, we need to learn how to make a couple of things that we have never made, but consume almost daily; bread and pasta. We are planning on conquering the bread making today, but not without a little help. We have gotten out the bread machine. I received this bread machine from my mom and dad years ago and my two older daughters used it quite frequently until I removed it from the counter during some mad cleaning spree. I still remember watching them dump the ingredients in, turn it on, and go to brush their teeth (or so I assumed). As if by magic, we would wake the next morning to the smell of just baked bread, which ranks rather high in my book of scents to smell as you start the new day: rain, coffee, chocolate chip cookies, and fresh baked bread. I can only imagine how overwhelming having them all might be. But back to the bread.

We spent some time earlier in the day researching different bread recipes, eventually choosing a hearty whole wheat bread with flax and sunflower seeds. We follow the directions; and really how hard is it to dump ingredients in to the container in the order requested and turn the machine on? Well four hours later, we learn just how hard it is. We have produced a short, heavy brick of a loaf of bread, which by the way is really hard. The first slice is not horrible. We cut it while it is still warm and the butter melts across like acrylic over wood. That is how dense the bread turns out. We eat leftover potato mash from last night turned into potato pancakes in lieu of sandwiches at lunch.


I wouldn't even call it bread really.

Several hours pass and we decide to give it another try. Maybe it was the recipe that was at fault. It could not possibly be our blunder. My pre-teens were able to make bread in this machine; I should be able to as well. We find another recipe for honey-oat bread that looks a bit lighter, but still on the hearty side. The feel in the kitchen: Success is looming, we just need to grab it. This turns out to be famous last words as the second loaf turns out even worse than the first. This one is shorter, harder, and actually not fully cooked. I don’t even try this one. You could knock on either loaf and it almost sounds like wood. I take a moment to reflect and decide that the Universe is actually trying to tell me something. In the past, I have made pizza crust and found the kneading of the dough to be a rather hypnotic experience. Maybe I need to consider making bread by hand, if I time it correctly, I could combine it with meditating.



As you can see, neither rose very much.

A Chance Encounter with Chickens

In the process of looking for recipes for bread, we realize that we have not gotten any eggs yet. When making the rules for this experiment, we had decided that we should be getting our eggs straight from the farm. There are several signs posted at small farms around us regarding the sale of these little gems so it seems like a good idea. We leave the house around 3:30 in search of a dozen eggs. Our first stop is Forget Me Not Farm, a quaint little farm selling veggies, veggie starts, eggs, and cut flowers. We enter the self-service cottage with a gleam in our eyes not all that different than when traveling to a foreign country and finding such novelty in it. The novelty wears off quickly when we realize they are out of eggs. We leave quickly, but not without smelling a bouquet of peonies and admiring a family of chickens as we pass by. To be honest, I have no idea if it was a family of chickens, but if we humans can say that a family is a group of people who care about each other, I can certainly view them as a family in the animal kingdom sense.

On to our next stop, which turns out not to be a stop at all, their signs are all down. No eggs. We are not sure if this is due to them being sold out or out of business. We travel down many more streets that we have decided look farmy for signs of eggs. No luck until I remember a sign for a farm off a side road that ends up being on our way home. Bur Oak Acres turns out to be another pretty nice self-service farm with a good variety of vegetables, but no eggs today. We continue this egg hunt well into the early evening. With the sky staying light out so long, if it had not been for our tummies telling us to eat, we might have continued trying to track down eggs until bedtime. We decide that stopping for the day is not failure, just delayed satisfaction.

Upon arriving home, we start dinner and end up with a very nice meal of curry salmon, roasted fingerling potatoes with fresh thyme, and steamed broccoli. This is a standard in our house and I think Eden is happy to see a familiar menu repertoire. She has spent the day frustrated with the lack of snackage. To be honest, I cannot deny my own desire to munch on something that does not require that I bake, boil, or cook it.

I feel less optimistic today. Bad bread, no eggs, and nothing to munch on. I guess trying to play Sally Homemaker and still work a semi-full-time job is wearing on me only after two days. Buck up, little one! I fall asleep with chickens in my head, and am comforted in the thought that tomorrow is a new day with new possibilities and more eggs to be sought.