Believe it or not, until this week I had never baked yeast bread. I’ve been meaning to for months — years, even — but just hadn’t gotten around to it. Silly as it sounds, I think the yeast scared me off. It just seemed so fragile, so critical a thing that I couldn’t bring myself to bake with it.
But there are oh so many yummy things that I can bake if only I can conquer my fear of yeast. So I bought some packets of active dry yeast (I’m not confident enough yet to buy the larger container) and stepped into the kitchen with my sidekick.
I used a recipe for French bread I found on Pinterest (are you really surprised?), which originated here. I didn’t have quite enough yeast — oops — but decided to charge ahead anyway. And guess what? The dough rose!
I really got a kick out of the dough rising. I loved punching it down, too. Violet got to punch it down the second time.
Note to self: next time, have the kid take off her pretty bracelets. They got kind of sticky.
Hindsight is 20/20 and I know now that I didn’t add enough flour to the dough. It was too sticky, I wasn’t able to knead it the way I should have, and it spread out on the baking sheet in a way that no loaf of bread should spread.
I felt sorry for my dough.
But then I baked it and it started to smell really good and turn brown. Then I didn’t feel sorry for it anymore.
Instead, I ate it. With a bowl of chili. Yum.
Thanks so much for dropping in. Come back any time! Have a great day and God bless!