Baking bread in my Special Pants

A lot of blogs start off with this deep, heartfelt essay about why they author feels they must be written. But I'm not really into that, largely because I've had a couple glasses of wine, so if that is what you are looking for hear, Ahm sorry but it's nahgannahappen. I'll try to sum it up in 15 words or less.

I like to eat. And/Or cook. And write about what happens.

Today I came home from Kung-Fu class, and thought to myself, "AKV, you should really attempt to do something with this bread dough you've been thinking about." Backstory pt 1: Sometimes I talk to myself in the 3rd person. Backstory pt 2: I've been cooking for this family once a week, and the mom always asks me to make bread dough from this amazing book Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day--but I always make the dough, and never see the finished product. So I bought the book, made the dough, and tonight I baked bread. In my Kung-fu pantaloons--which are like harem pants with all the eastern-ass-kicking and none of the sensuality. And then I thought "AKV, there is a half a liter of wine taking up WAAAAAY too much space in yo' fridge, boo." So I started on that. Side note: terrible white wine tastes a lot better if you think about it not in terms of wine, but rather as slightly fermented apple juice. But back to the bread:

It. Was. Amazing.

I thought It was just because pretending to bring a major beat-down in Kung-Fu class makes me hungry, so I made roomates BH and SS eat it. Consensus: Deliciousness. We sat at the breakfast bar and ate fresh bread and truffle butter, and I proceeded to become marvelously Thursdayed (read as: Intoxicated). So I say unto you, O readers, make 2010 the-Year-in-which-You-Don't-Have-to-Buy-Bread, and buy this book instead. Here is the address to Jeff Herzberg and Zoe Francois' Amahzing website for their 2 (soon to be 3) books: www.artisanbreadinfive.com

Back to the bread: It was really, really, yummy. Not that it can compare to my Momma's Christmas bread, or to her amazingly satisfying Kolachy(more on those later), but pretty dang delicious for the amount of work required. In a way, it makes me feel guilty, because I have such vivid memories of Mom spending hours letting dough rise, punching it down, forming loaves, etc, while this was only slightly more labor-intensive than a bowl of cereal. Here it is, in all it's glory:

Just look at that. I made it. Boo-yah! (Please note my artful use of decorative fruits. Classy.)

And here you can see the velvety insides. I changed up the recipe a little by adding ground flaxseed and whole wheat flour. It gives it both a little more substance and a nice nutty flavor. Plus it looks cool.

I think it is particularly fitting to start this blog with a post about bread. Bread is so much a part of our culture that it's become entrenched in our linguistics--We talk about the "Staff of Life," "Our daily bread," we use "bread" and "dough" as slang for money. The word "company" derives from the Latin phrase "com pani," from "com," together, and "pani," bread. It's spiritual. It's primal. Our whole linguistic structure sets us up to seek sustenance.

I'ma go find some.