It failed. It failed in a bad way.
After pouring mounds of flour, into my (not killed) yeast, and patiently, patiently waiting. It just wouldn't do what the directions said it would. I even left it out all night hoping it would rise by morning (In all reality I just didn't want to look at failure in a bowl). So I then preceded to make homemade croutons to go with my spinach and freshly cut head of lettuce. I thought, I can do this without recipe. How hard can croutons be. After I poured a little garlic salt, minced onion, olive oil, and parmesan over the cubed bread, I popped those little babies in the oven. No timer, I checked on them once, they needed a little bit longer. Went into the other room, Spencer and I danced to song on pandora, well laughed most the time. Then we smelled the burnt smell of fire. We don't like fire around here. Ran into the kitchen. Burnt croutons. There were only six not burned because they were hiding under other croutons. I thought, well heck with it, I put six croutons on the salad. And they surprisingly tasted good. I was persistent about making something that turned out. So I made lemon bars, from a box. There is no way I could mess up these. Put package in bowl. Add water. Add eggs. Stir. Put in pan. Cook for 27 minutes. And guess what, they tasted good. Ah! I found my nitch, boxed foods. I wish this were true, but I am determined to be a good cook. Even if I ruin thousands of dollars worth of food in the process.
And do you want to know what I am going to do today. Make bread. That's right, make bread. Not burnt, destroyed, flattened, ruined bread. Make bread.
While shopping today, I heard a little girl in the market say, "Today is going to be the best day ever". I couldn't stop smiling for minutes. She was right. Today is going to be the best bread-making day ever.
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I made this print for Beck & Dawson's birthday last January.
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