Familiar Skills

          Last night was dinner out – not in an exciting-culinary-kind of way, but just a gathering of fellow residents contributing to the meal.

          I didn’t have much else going on, so I decided to make bread.

          Easily done – I’ve been making bread since we’ve been married, back when dinosaurs roamed the newly-cooling Earth. In fact, in the early days when the kids were little and the magic of being at home all day, every day was wearing thin, I made all of our bread. Didn’t buy anything in a plastic bag for over a year.

          So, no big deal. Except as a friend once pointed out, we’re kind of glamping here in Florida, without the bibs and bobs we’ve collected over time.

          Did I have any bread pans? Up till now any bread I’ve made has been shaped on a baking sheet and I’d decided to make cinnamon raisin bread. Frantic dig through the cupboards and voila! For some reason, I have four.

         

So –

          No prob – measure, mix, knead, ball it up to park for the first rise.

          Except I forgot to add the *%# raisins.

          

Sadly, this isn’t the first time this has happened, so I spread out the dough and polka-dotted it, balled it up, kneaded it, spread and polka-dotted again.

          

Off to rise. 

(Yes, that’s one of Joanne Noragon’s towels for those in the know.)

          An hour later, Punch down, roll out. But wait. No rolling pin.

 

         Thank heavens we’re steady wine drinkers. There's an empty bottle handy more often than I'd like to say. 

          

Cinnamon on, roll up. 

Park in pans for the second rise.

          

Bake.

                                                    Ta Da!!