Sophie writes romance, comedy, and erotica for the self-loathing. Sophie groks cats, chocolate, and sleeping in. Her other bicycle is a car.
I know what you’re wondering: WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT? Surely not raisin bread.
Clearly, a raisined-product of sorts.
If CSI were here they’d run that diagnostic pretty quickly and observe there’s some C6H10O5 involved. That’s the incomplete formula for flour; but they will be looking for more. The lab will run more tests and find some lipids (fats & oils), maybe a pinch of NaCl. All this modern-day hokey-pokey science will tell them NOTHING. The ingredients are as they should be.
This failed recipe is for a 1.5 pound bread. Really. That was the plan.
1 bread maker OR
Mixing bowl for mixer
Measuring cups, spoons OR
Digital food scale
Yeah, you’re wondering now. I am all metric-European measuring until it comes to the little stuff so I’ll put both deets in.
1 1/4 cups of warm milk or water (306 grams if using milk)
1 1/2 TB melted lard or vegetable shortening (22.5 grams)
2 tsp yeast
1 cup raisins (I go crazy on the raisins though)
3 cups all-purpose flour (or whatever makes you happy) (360 grams)
1 tsp salt
2 tsp of cinnamon (or to taste)
If you are using a bread machine, like I did, it’s easy-peasy squeeze a lemon. Unless you happen to be me, which you aren’t. Unlike
making mixer drinkie-poos, the rule for bread machines is liquids before solids.
1. Warm your milk or water first. This will help the yeast. Use the microwave or heat over the stove top or right from the *shudder* tap. Throw the shortening, lard, (or oil if you prefer) on top while you do this. Time-deepening I call it.
2. Liquid into bread machine.
3. Into a bowl, whisk the flour, cinnamon, and salt together. I think this helps the distribution.
4. Solids into machine atop the liquid.
5. Make little well in the flour mixture and spoon in your yeast.
6. Turn on your bread machine to whichever setting is, essentially, 1.5 pound loaf, basic.
7. Watch the magic appear in two hours.
This collateral damage won’t happen if you use your oven. I say bake around 350 or 400 for some 22 minutes or so. I dunno. I bake til I remember that I forgot to turn on the timer or I smell the carbon charring.
Did you catch it? I didn’t tell you to put the paddle INTO the machine. You should have known to do it, as I should have as well. But I forgot. I was nipping an Irish Creme Yogurt Smoothie and wasn’t quite what I should have been:
A – L – E – R – T
There should be a warning on the Irish Creme bottle: do not use your bread machine while slurping contents of this bottle.
So what happens when you put the bread machine on and there’s no paddle? Nothing mixes. The mixture heats up, ferments, and bakes without being swirled and combined. And you end up with that hardened lump shown above.
The squirrels were ecstatic, by the way. Yeah, I feed the rodentia in my yard. Cat? Not so pleased.
Put the paddle in.
Bread is yummy. Man may not live on bread alone, but I could.
Dana Page was raised in Memphis, Tennessee. Born just down the road from Memphis in Helena, Arkansas, she considers the Mississippi River Delta her own personal inspiration. Having earned a degree in journalism from Texas A&M University, she has utilized her writing skills in varied areas – small-town politics, human interest stories and writing an entertainment column, to name a few. To support her writing habit, she has worked an odd job or two. Don’t ask her about delivering singing telegrams; some things are best forgotten. Pass the Hot Stuff is Dana’s debut novel.
Want to read more?
Excerpt and Review of Pass the Hot Stuff.
Dana Page’s guest blog on Evolvedworld: Heart and Soul