Majorly channeling the domesticity this week, because, after much prompting from Justin, I finally set aside my fear of failure and baked homemade bread—yeast and all, not quick bread—from scratch for the first time.
I texted one of my best friends, who is a fantastic amateur baker (can’t wait to try her hand-decorated Elmo cupcakes at her kid’s birthday party next week!), during the first rise that I felt I had no idea what I was doing, but “can’t turn back now!”
It’s scary to try a new thing, especially when that thing requires time-specific steps, and one’s toddler might awake from his nap at any moment, or the dough might happen to reach “doubled in size” during the 20 minutes one is away from home picking up one’s preschooler from preschool.
Lucky for me, Luke stayed asleep during kneading—which was surprisingly therapeutic—and, even right next to the crockpot full of chili cooking, our kitchen is too cold for rising to go very quickly, so I had plenty of time to get back home before needing to punch down and shape for the second rise. And the children gave me the space I requested (and a reprieve from their own requests) when I needed to do hands-on steps while they were both home and awake. Score!
Tangential anecdote. Someone rang the doorbell in the middle of my first attempt at shaping the loaves. I stepped away to answer, thinking it might be the mailman, who is usually by at that time and cheerfully brings packages down to our door and only stays a minute. It turned out to be a home security system solicitor. I give him credit for being the most personable and least pushy of the four who have come by since we moved in six weeks ago. But I was a little embarrassed at being caught in my apron with flour on my hands, by a stranger, and a little annoyed that he was standing 3 feet from the door so I had to have the door open more than just a crack; it was 45 degrees outside and my kids didn’t have shoes on! Miryam dissipated the tension and explained my appearance by proudly announcing to the guy that we were making bread, and that she made a ghost at school, and that daddy would be home soon. (She also tried to exit the front door into the cold and wet to get a better look at him, with her sock feet. No, dear.)
Anyway, back to the bread.
Justin got home when the loaves had five minutes left in the oven. He asked the kids if they were excited about having chili (his recipe and handiwork) for dinner. I wish I could have taken a photo of Justin’s face (disbelief and then elation) when Miryam added, “and bread!” We’d just watched the “bread week” episode of Great British Baking Show’s latest Netflix season the night before. Justin had again pointed out that I should try my hand at making bread. I had again mildly assented, while making no indication that I would actually do it. So when I impulsively did the next day, it was truly a surprise!
Y’all, the bread turned out so delicious. It was a basic, all-purpose-flour recipe, no starters, a little kneading, but no fancy pans. It came out of the oven irregularly shaped (all my knowledge of dough shaping has been gleaned from watching GBBS. Like I said, “no idea what I’m doing”), but totally tasty. Miryam and I—both notorious for slow eating—annihilated two pieces in about 30 seconds. Now, less than 48 hours later, only 2 inches are left of the two 9-inch loaves.
If you’ve been waiting for your sign to start making your own bread, too, here it is! And here’s the recipe I used, to get you started: