On Thursdays Steve works out of town, leaving around 7:00 am and returning around 9:00 pm, so yesterday I was home alone. We have some German bread mix and a bread machine, so it seemed like it would be an easy task to whip up a loaf of bread while I had the flat to myself.
I successfully pulled out the bread machine.
I successfully filled the bread machine with mix and water (measured in mL and grams!).
I looked at the many, unfamiliar bread machine buttons.
I picked some.
I pushed start.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I became resourceful.
I dumped the bread machine contents into a mixing bowl and stirred them up and left the dough to rise.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
The bread eventually rose in our cold kitchen and I couldn't find a bread pan.
I rummaged through the cupboards and found a square pan.
I decided that I would make German, whole wheat bread after the manner of cornbread, long and flat.
I let the bread rise in the square pan.
I looked at the many, unfamiliar buttons on the oven.
I picked one.
I shoved the bread in the oven and anticipated a 60 minute wait (the recommended cooking time on the bread bag).
I smelled baking bread.
Within 10 minutes the bread was firm and looked on its way to being overdone, and that, I discovered when Steve came home and I forced him to give me a tutorial of the oven and bread machine, is because I BROILED the bread. Yes, the fan symbol means convection, but the fan symbol with the wavy line means convection broiler.
The broiled bread was surprisingly delicious. Steve made a mega omelet and I made home fries and we slathered the bread in butter and it was delightful.
7 comments:
Please don't settle in to Scotland too fast. I'm looking forward to more mishaps, which--at least upon reflection--are highly entertaining! Except for the stairs--that story is more inspirational, like Chariots of Fire. You are truly pioneer stock!
My dad served a mission in Scotland and would always tell us, with a note of confusion in his voice, that they told him he wasn't going foreign-speaking.
When he came home he planned to name a son Hamish, but that was before he married my mother. I can't ever remember the name that we daughters escaped. I'll have to ask him. I rather like Hamish.
Good luck! I am still giggling about your chick lit post.
As a woman married several years, I must warn you that the traveling separately with large bags stage may rear its ugly head again. If and when you have a few kiddoes... husbands never have enough time off, so you ending up driving or flying places without said husband. Then you have large bags and a toddler to travel with you. I guess that is not alone, but they are no help with the bags, I can assure you! In fact they multiply the lbs. of junk you must take. Consider yourself warned.
Anyway, I am sure you will have the best of times in Scotland. Your flat sounds like an adventure, and I loved the description of your wedding celebration!
Broiled bread--does that really work?! Wow!
Did you turn on the switch next to the plug-in? Myself I had much difficulty in remembering that small task when plugging things in. Without the switch great impressive electrical light shows can result when connecting and disconnecting appliances.
KWB
PS I still have not figured out the oven. I'm only allowed to run the top burners and the Remoska.
KWB
I did something similar when I was trapped in Steve's basement apartment in Saskatoon. I thought that I would try to make bread without yeast; desparate times call for desparate measures I suppose. It wasn't the best but Steve's roomie Bruce ate it up.
I think you should write a broiled bread cookbook - especially if it means the bread gets done faster.
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