Two loaves of French bread
Mixed: 9:45 am
Molded: 11:30 am
Gave to: the neighbors down the road who sell eggs
We’re renting a house this week in Rhode Island as we explore New England. It’s a two-pronged adventure. Travel=new experiences, relaxation and fun. New England=many fine colleges for my son who is already set to fly the coop, and fly far.
It’s hot. It’s humid. And there are no measuring cups or spoons in this rental house.
To start the play-by-play, I first have to tell you that this house
is not air-conditioned. Sooooo hot. Like a baker’s proof box.
I woke, still drowsy, but was rousted by an eager John Ronan who wanted to do anything but sleep. I came down the stairs, stairs that are wooden and so noisy that it sounds as if gun shots explode from each of them. I dressed. I cooked three very brown eggs that we bought from the house up the road
(we bought a full dozen and four of the 12 were green. I was so happy!) We turned on World Cup soccer and I started to mix.
I had to improvise. Guessing on the amounts, I fiddled with the water, added more flour, worried that I added too much salt, and had to knead on the glass cafe table. But it all came together nicely; it looked like bread dough!
Then John Ronan got stung by an angry yellow jacket. Poor little fellow. We tended to him and I forgot all about the dough, and meanwhile, South Africa scored a couple of goals against France. Can’t say I was too upset about that, even though I was in the middle of making two loaves of French bread.
The little one fell asleep
and I got back to baking. I molded the loaves, admiring the super speed of the yeast in this climate, and fiddled with the oven. The oven actually worked!
Baked. Finished watching the games and right now I’m awaiting the return of my two big kids to hear of their giving adventure. (I normally would have set off on my own to give away the bread, but I felt I needed to monitor the little one to make sure he wasn’t allergic to the sting…)
Here they are!
Mom: “So, tell me how the giving went.”
Madeleine: “We ate it ourselves…”
Mom: “No, really.”
Andrew then sang this (stupid, sorry for the naughty word) song he made up that goes like this, “lol, oh, lol. lol, lol, lol, lol…”
Mad: “The giving went like a roller coaster. We gave the egg people bread; she was nice. I was terrified out of my wits; it was embarrassing to give to a total stranger.”
Then, both my kids started quoting Shakespeare… “to take the bread or not to take the bread. Tis nobler in the mind to suffer…”
Andrew: “Those people might think we poisoned the bread.”
Madeleine: “She offered us more eggs.”
They then agreed that they felt relieved to have been done with that assignment. Reluctant givers, but givers all the same.
John Ronan is still sleeping off his sting. And I’m off to eat a slice of bread and cheese and watch yet another few matches of World Cup soccer.
I like Rhode Island. I’ve seen more mushrooms here than I ever dreamed existed
and I made the acquaintance of two very handsome frogs…
and a beautiful luna moth…
With all these wonders, who needs measuring cups?!