The other day I bought an only-used-one-time; didn't-like-it almost-new breadmaking machine for 10 bucks.
(Look at this baby. Bet you could knock off a few loaves with that. But that's not what I bought, more's the pity.)
Now, I've never had a breadmachine before. Years ago I made all the bread we ate when our kids were small. I have a cherished recipe for oatmeal bread and another for Swedish bread which I used to churn out with great alleau*
*Not a French word? Sounds good. It Should be a French word! Definition: Accomplishing a complicated action with dash and style; "wit won han behind ma baaaaak."
Then I got the bread machine. . . . . . and I discovered I CAN'T MAKE BREAD.
What could be wrong? I read the directions. I measured everything. I threw in the stuff in the proper order. I turned it on.
Result: Brick. Actually worse than that. A brick that caved in on itself.
Okay, okay. I used regular all-purpose flour. But I got the fast rise yeast.
Read the book again.
Another brick, only this time too salty.
Read the book again.
Added an egg.
Another brick. Made croutons.
Searched the book. Searched the web. . . . . . . .
Remembered I'm not living at sea level. AH-HA!
Reduced the water. Reduced the yeast.
Voi-la! Bread!
I'm afraid I'm enjoying this too much.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
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