The Ugliest Bread I'll Ever Love

I am a bread lover. It's true. My hips don't lie. My family loves bread too. Our bread habit has been getting a little out of control lately and today while I was making the shopping list I had this epiphany. Why am I spending all this money on our addiction to bread when I could make it! My sister posted a recipe on her and her friend's cooking blog and I figured for the price of one loaf of bread, I could make tens of loaves of bread. No brainer.

I got all the stuff I needed at the store. I was fired up. I put the kids down for naps and got to work. I felt so domestic. I even put on my pear and apple printed apron over my bulging pregnant belly. "Does it get anymore June Cleaver than this?" I wondered as I happily put the first few things in my capable Kitchenaide mixer. Now, I have misplaced my breadhook for this fantastic machine somewhere during the three moves it has made with me. "No problem," I thought. "I'm sure the cookie paddle can handle it." And it did...for a while. But really, we're talking 12 cups of flour. That's a whole lotta flour. It makes a whole lotta dough. As I watched the dough get bigger and bigger I knew I'd made a huge mistake. I should have borrowed a breadhook, better yet, I should have just bought the loaves of bread at the store. My cookie paddle was trying. My mixing bowl was bulging more than my belly. The motor was straining. I had to intervene. I was lauging to myself, knowing this was still saveable and what a funny story it would make! Ha...Ha. So I dumped the half mixed contents onto my counter and thought I would go after it pioneer style. After all, I did have the apron on, right? That makes me half pioneer right there. FYI: I am no pioneer. After a pointless five minutes the dough was no closer to being mixed than when I started. And I was using words I don't think exsited in pioneer times. So I put the dough back in small doses in the mixer and let it finish the job it started. I think it felt good about itself.

I figured it was ruined, but the mixer and I had come this far, we may as well cook the damn (pardon my french) stuff. So I threw the dough into the loaf pans and let it rest the 15 minutes the recipe says. I called my sister. She assured me it would be fine, that the bread would raise in the heat of the oven and be just great. I wasn't sure I believed her, but what did we (me and the mixer...we were in this together) have to lose? I plopped the gnarly loaves in the oven. In hindsight I should have like, made the loaves into loafish shapes while I was putting the dough in the pans. But I was flustered at that point, and only cooking it as a last ditch effort anyway. And in hindsight, there were a lot of things I should have done different. Anyway, Amy was right. It turned out fine...really ugly and gnarly, but fine, and pretty tasty.

Here is a picture of how awesome Amy's turns out everytime. I'm sure Martha Stewart calls her for tips. I would if I were her.

And here are a couple of pictures of my sad little loaves.

And now for the Young Women's lesson for the day. Sometimes when we are in the middle of something, it kind of seems like the issue or our life is going to Hell in a handbasket (I know. Two swears in one post...it's the pregnancy, makes me swear like a sailor). It sometimes seems like our simple cookie paddle cannot stir the kind of sludge that life is asking us to mix. But with a little help breaking it down, we can make it turn out just fine.

But wait, there's more Young Womenness to be applied. This bread is UGLY. There is no doubt about that. It looks like it's been used for a football practice or something. But you know what? It made my house smell good. And it tastes good. So sometimes it isn't all about what's on the outside, but what's on the inside that counts.

One more. The more you do things, the easier they become. Next time, I will use a breadhook. And I will know to shape the loaves. If I did it right the first time, I wouldn't have anything to reach for, right? And I'm sure next time I will do something else wrong and learn another important life lesson. Because really, isn't that what June Cleaver was all about? Life's lessons being learned in everyday situations. Thank you June, thank you.