When I was a little girl one of my favourite things was rounding the corner of our block at lunch time and seeing my grandparent's orange truck. My mouth would start to water as I broke into a run because I knew what would be waiting for me when I opened the front door – homemade scones.
My grandpa Blumel was an expert bread maker; we grew up on homemade bread. White was our favourite, but once we’d polished off the white bread we start on the brown. Rarely did a loaf of storeboughten bread make it into our home. I remember sitting beside my grandpa as he ate the sacrament bread and hearing him muttered “McGavins” as if it were a swear word.
With such a talented grandpa, I figured bread making was in my gens; I could pictures my family gathered around the table feasting on home baked cinnamon buns or enjoying their bedtime snack of toast that I have lovingly prepared with my own hand. This has not proven to be the case. In fact nothing could be further from the truth. I have absolutely no skills in the bread making department. Any recipe calling for yeast should just ripped out of my cookbook because there is no way it will ever be made by these hand of mine.
In an effort to still supply my family with fresh baked bread, I asked for a bread maker for Christmas one year. Even the bread maker refuses to deliver a perfectly made loaf of bread.
I just tried to make pizza crust for my kids for lunch and that was a huge bust – so it’s official. If I can’t even make pizza crust I was not meant to enjoy the comforts of home made baking.
2 comments:
I thought your post would eventually acknowledge the fact that I made a few dozen cinnamon buns last Sunday to great delight.
I have had your pizza crust and I must say it was wonderful, you under estimate bread making. I made it once and you could have used it as a door stop!!!
see you soon,
Carolyne
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