7)Not all good food is pretty.
My mother's voice is forever ingrained in my head, "Make sure you grease the pan....and don't forget the corners." The other day, I forgot the corners. I've been on a bread making kick, having discovered that it's impossible to find bread that isn't full of sixty ingredients, half of which are impossible to pronounce much less eat. After reading In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan, for my book club, I've been working at eating fewer processed foods. Not overly difficult, since we already avoid processed as much as possible.
Back to my bread loaves...they were beautiful, aromatic, high golden loaves. So beautiful and enticing that Will, my six year old was calling dibs on the first slices, before I had even taken them out of oven. Ten minutes later, as he waited, rather patiently I might add, for me to un-pan the bread, my mother's words began swirling in my head. You see, that lovely bread was not going to give up the cozy corners of it's pan without an arduous and ultimately, painful, fight. On most days, this would have been no big deal. Just another case of Rachel rushing through a project, only to find out that in the rushing, she forgot a very small, but shockingly important detail.
However on that particular day, we were completely out of bread and my last five attempts at making bread had been nothing short of abyssmal. Mind you, I have been baking bread since I was 10 years old. I am no novice at yeast doughs. I can make bread. But for some reason my bread have been rather on the icky side as of late. So to have these beautiful loaves and be unable to actually get them out of pan...well, that was almost more than I could bear.
As I handed Will the promised first slice, sans corners, he smiled and simply said, "Mom, this looks really good, can I have more if I finish this." I ended up giving him another slice because I had crushed the one in his hand against his chest when I nearly smothered him with a big hug. He giggled hysterically at the crushed bread, accepted his second slice, and ran out the back door to his waiting friend. He ate the better part of the loaf before the day was out. It wasn't pretty, kind of lopsided, and had no corners, but he was right...it was tasty! Thanks Mom!
Back to my bread loaves...they were beautiful, aromatic, high golden loaves. So beautiful and enticing that Will, my six year old was calling dibs on the first slices, before I had even taken them out of oven. Ten minutes later, as he waited, rather patiently I might add, for me to un-pan the bread, my mother's words began swirling in my head. You see, that lovely bread was not going to give up the cozy corners of it's pan without an arduous and ultimately, painful, fight. On most days, this would have been no big deal. Just another case of Rachel rushing through a project, only to find out that in the rushing, she forgot a very small, but shockingly important detail.
However on that particular day, we were completely out of bread and my last five attempts at making bread had been nothing short of abyssmal. Mind you, I have been baking bread since I was 10 years old. I am no novice at yeast doughs. I can make bread. But for some reason my bread have been rather on the icky side as of late. So to have these beautiful loaves and be unable to actually get them out of pan...well, that was almost more than I could bear.
As I handed Will the promised first slice, sans corners, he smiled and simply said, "Mom, this looks really good, can I have more if I finish this." I ended up giving him another slice because I had crushed the one in his hand against his chest when I nearly smothered him with a big hug. He giggled hysterically at the crushed bread, accepted his second slice, and ran out the back door to his waiting friend. He ate the better part of the loaf before the day was out. It wasn't pretty, kind of lopsided, and had no corners, but he was right...it was tasty! Thanks Mom!
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