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The Case of the Vanishing Apple
May. 15th, 2011 02:08 pmIn a week's time, I should be in California.
In a week's time, I should be in bed. Doesn't that sound nice...?
In the meantime, I have way too much to do before I leave. I want everything done, so I don't have to take anything with me: no tasks unfinished, no stones unturned.
So yesterday afternoon, obviously, I spent baking. Jean & Roger were having a Eurovision party (hey, don't judge us; it's a tradition), and I may have promised bread.
At any rate, there was bread. It was all a bit hurried; I figured out what time I had to leave to catch a train down to theirs, counted the hours back and abbreviated rising-times accordingly. And then made a flatbread with pickled hot peppers and smoked paprika oil (which was nice, but would've been nicer if it had had twice the time and twice the attention), and an apple-and-cinnamon bread with a bit of rye in the mix. Well, it was meant to be apple and cinnamon. I worked a hundred grams of apple butter into the dough, but the apple kind of vanished. It made a nice breakfast bread, with a soft open crumb, and the cinnamon came through fine (there's cinnamon in the apple butter too, I fancy), but I'd still like to know where the appliness went.
In other news, I have this old Kenwood Chef which has sat in the cupboard for fifteen years and I've hardly used it ever. The closer I come to moving to California and leaving heavy stuff behind, the more I use it and the more I want to use it. Is this irony, I wonder...?
In a week's time, I should be in bed. Doesn't that sound nice...?
In the meantime, I have way too much to do before I leave. I want everything done, so I don't have to take anything with me: no tasks unfinished, no stones unturned.
So yesterday afternoon, obviously, I spent baking. Jean & Roger were having a Eurovision party (hey, don't judge us; it's a tradition), and I may have promised bread.
At any rate, there was bread. It was all a bit hurried; I figured out what time I had to leave to catch a train down to theirs, counted the hours back and abbreviated rising-times accordingly. And then made a flatbread with pickled hot peppers and smoked paprika oil (which was nice, but would've been nicer if it had had twice the time and twice the attention), and an apple-and-cinnamon bread with a bit of rye in the mix. Well, it was meant to be apple and cinnamon. I worked a hundred grams of apple butter into the dough, but the apple kind of vanished. It made a nice breakfast bread, with a soft open crumb, and the cinnamon came through fine (there's cinnamon in the apple butter too, I fancy), but I'd still like to know where the appliness went.
In other news, I have this old Kenwood Chef which has sat in the cupboard for fifteen years and I've hardly used it ever. The closer I come to moving to California and leaving heavy stuff behind, the more I use it and the more I want to use it. Is this irony, I wonder...?