Bread Mistakes

I am human. You might have guessed this. I realize that I am anonymous here, but from my conversational style, my idiosyncratic punctuation philosophy, my personality…well, I don’t think there is a robot that can do this. yet. Though, maybe all of you out there are robots…alright, that is too Space Odyssey for my taste.

misses, but that is not too often. Usually those misses are still close enough that they aMy point is that I make mistakes. In terms of cooking, I am usually pretty okay with only a fewre edible. But, when it comes to baked goods, well, I suck. I hate to measure; I hate to time; I hate to count. I don’t find kneading particularly relaxing. Egg wash makes me feel a little icky. Basically, this is a count on which I have no redeeming qualities. Well, thinking about it that is not entirely true. I can bake a few specific things—tiny pies, cupcakes, cakes, and cream puffs. But, that is when I focus and subsume any desire to goof off. Rest assured, I do not bake for company, so you should pretty much be able to avoid this in person.

So, know, as if this whining wasn’t enough proof that I was human, I think my recent baking exploits are even better. Sunday, I made a blackberry and apple pie and forgot to put tin foil on the edge. It was tasty, but it looked as if it had been released from some medieval fire. Luckily it tasted good. And, my wedding china really classed it up.

But, the bigger misstep came today. My husband made a brioche dough on Sunday. In his recipe, it called for overnight refrigeration. And, herein was our downfall. I am not a morning baker, I learned. I completely forgot about my lovely dough the next morn. When we came home tonight, we were trying to make something that would allow us to spend the most time with Belle. She was in rare form, sorting and resorting little blocks and pieces of paper. How could we miss this to form tiny little loafs? And, plus she loves bread, and brioche is the anti-vegan bread. (Why did we make it? Butter after dark is even better than meat after dark. But, actually we made it for a work thing.)

So tonight, around nine, we got to making our little loafs, and then once done, we put them in the oven, and well forgot. So, we ended with what could be kindly described brioche croutons. We also tried to made a couple decorative loafs—one came out 70s rustic and the other, well, a horribly disfigured woman with whorish red lipstick—baking doesn’t pay apparently. Alright, so it wasn’t terrible—but just not lovely. See I am not even perfect in my imperfection.