Skip to main content

A quick bread girl turns the page

Around the age of 9 or 10, I learned how to make pancakes.
I began a career of making "quick breads".  I slowly perfected the pancake temperature, committed the recipe to memory. Now I make them once a week without blinking.

The role yeast plays in baking consistently did not get through to me.
Baking soda,baking powder, those were my leaveners of choice.
They were the ingredients that were accessible, uncomplicated and within my technical grasp.
If I did use yeast, which I occasionally felt compelled to do when I attempted pizza dough, it was yet another frustrated reason why I was not a yeast bread girl. I rushed it, I tried to make a "yeast bread" project into a "quick bread" project.

This summer, I finally decided to revive an old family recipe, my grandmother's french rolls.  Their airiness still lingers on my tongue, 30 years after I last had one.

I googled a recipe and reluctantly invested in a whole bottle of yeast.

I faithfully followed the instructions. For once, I resisted making these rolls into quick (but not airy) rolls.

The yeast surprised me. As it first warmed, came to life, it frothed and multiplied. I enjoyed seeing it spread.

I heard someone say, "let the yeast do the work".

I kneaded it for the 8 minutes as they suggested, I let it sit for an hour, it doubled.

It pulled apart in a soft luscious way that quick breads never did.

The yeast indeed did the work.

The yeast reminded me that I don't have to do everything.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?