I’m rather knackered and it’s past my bed time but I feel obliged to post something lest you-know-who send me one of their bellicose emails threatening bodily harm if I don’t ‘put out’ as it were.

 

bread-machine-load

The Lovely Neighbor has invited us over for Thanksgiving. I am glad as otherwise I would not have had any. Someone is working that day and no one invited me otherwise. I would be home-alone. I asked her what may I bring for dinner. She requested I bring dinner rolls. I was surprised at this, for I thought she would ask for an appetizer or a bottle of bourbon. I would feel stupid to merely fetch remade rolls from the grocery store, so I will get out my bread machine rather and make some dough for crescent rolls.

I miss my bread machine. It is a boxy white appliance that resembles a sort of easy-bake oven. It makes a square block of bread the size of a small box of wine.

I have always loved bread, but when carbohydrates became ‘bad’ I felt guilty and stopped using it. Someone does not eat bread, so I had to eat the loaves myself and quickly too before they became hard or fuzzy.

There is a quiet satisfaction to hear the machine churning in intermittent grinds and whirls. At the end of the baking the house fills with the redolence of freshly made bread.  How can something so marvelous be so ‘bad’ for us?  Isn’t bread the staff of life?  Did not the French revolt for want of bread?

I tried making bread from scratch but found it a lot of work and the end-product wasn’t that good or worth the effort. My bread machine is good enough for my needs. I’ve made loaves of rye, wheat, and some with cheese or egg or yogurt in them.

I plan on making a trial run of dinner rolls this weekend to work out any bungles or disappointments.  If a success, I plan on keeping the machine out for a bread baking revival. I still believe a thick slice of buttered homemade bread remains the food of the gods – or at least the demigods. If Thanksgiving is canceled at the last minute, I will be thankful enough to stay home and eat dinner rolls.  Oh how lovely.

bread-and-butter

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