So last night me and some other ladies from church got together to learn how to make bread. Every time I try to make some I can never get my yeast to "come alive" and "thrive." Seriously, I think I have negative energy around me that sucks it's will to live. Anyway, so we got together and the Wonderful teacher Velika was so patient with all of the hormones that were there, but my stinking yeast wouldn't do a dang thing! Everyone else's would, just not mine. My poor partner. So Velika had to make me a new batch and it started to work a little, but I think I stood too close and my "negative energy" almost killed it. So I start adding flour and the dough just gets harder and harder and isn't looking at all like everyones else's. In all the Yeast confusion it turns out I only added half the water I was supposed to. I'm now like 45 minutes behind everyone and my patience is worn a little thin. The last thing I want to do is try and figure out how to kneed 1 1/2 cups of water into hard dough. So as politely as I could, I informed everyone that I could mess bread up at my own house and left. I went home and cried in my garage. Then, feeling a little ridiculous for crying over bread, I started laughing and couldn't stop. In the meantime Jarred and the boys had come out to the garage and witnessed Mom's little break down and became concerned. They all got in the car and took me to sonic for a "Cherry Ocean Water."
On our way home I get a call on my cell, it's Velika the teacher. She has revived my dough and is waiting with it at my house so I can bake it. Aww, how sweet. She gave me instructions to put it in a loaf pan, let it raise for 45 minutes and then bake it at 350 for 27 minutes. Pretty easy right? WRONG! After 1 hour it had barely risen at all, but I was tired so I was just gonna put it in the oven anyway. As I open the oven to place it in there wouldn't you know, I drop the freaking pan face down and the dough just hangs there on the rack. PROFANITY!!! Jarred comes over to calm me down, but it doesn't work. I throw the stupid dough back in the pan and let it raise AGAIN because it's all flat now after being tossed out of the pan. This time though I put it in the warm over for 2 minutes and then take it out to raise. It looks pretty good after 45 minutes so I pop it in the oven and let it bake; 27 minutes later I have a delicious, FLAT loaf of bread.
It's 12:30 am by now so I eat 3 pieces with butter and honey, take a big swig of milk and put my grouchy, tired butt in bed, vowing to never make bread again. That's what "
Grandma Sycamore's" for right?
This would be another one of those "crappy mom" moments.
