Starting late last year I've made all our family bread. I'm not very good, can only really do one receipt, but it makes for good sammiches and toast/jam. And it tastes 50X the supermarket crap at 10% the price.I'm seriously considering making my own cheese and youghurt but I'm afraid I'll smell like patchouli and get called a hippie.I enjoy the blog, thanks for writing it.-XC
My beautiful daughter, after studying classical ballet for 12 years, announced she was going to Le Cordone Bleu instead of college. She only went for the pastry certificate and was the prima, once again. She now heads up decorating at several tony cake shops, and, at 20, is happier in her work than anyone I have ever known. It is a blessing.
I'm a sourdogh man. Some say I'm "sour, D'oh".But I always say, a bread-making man has kneads.I'd say a couple other things, but ladies are and may later be present.
You simply crack me up --- And how did spell check like that word?:-)
Hey Sipp,I was in your neck of the woods this week and wanted to stop by and say hello but I hated to interrupt someone that works for a living.Besides, I didn't know your address and would probably have gotten lost anyway, what with all the Rumfords.We went through Rumford Point (I think), Rumford Center, and Rumford on RT 2 enroute to Acadia NP.It's pretty country in the fall but I imagine the winters are tough.Anyway, sorry I missed meeting you. I always enjoy your writing.
Hi Expat- Thanks for reading and commenting. Hi Leslie- "Happy in your work" at twenty isn't possible. You must be fibbing. It can't be. You're just trying to confuse and frighten the rest of us. ** wipes tear **Sam- You get carraway sometimes. Hi Harriett- The spell checker on the Intertunnel is busted. I know because I read the Intertunnel. Gary- I hope you waved. I did. Or did you give me the "Maine nod"? I'm learning it.
Finding time to make bread is the yeast of my problems. I was raised better than that, but now I am just a crusty old guy. Not a heel, however.
The flour of my youth was wasted, it makes me rye in my speech some times, but I rise to the occasion.
Damn, that was some fine baking. I miss my job. ((sob))((sniffle)).
Mr. Sippi. it a kid complains about carraway seeds in his bread, tell him to pretend they're bugs and pick them out.
Or ask for more!
Post a Comment