Foreign Domestic
Simon bought me a KitchenAid mixer last Christmas. Actually, he bought me two--a standard one and a deluxe one--but because both of them were silver and I eventually came around to admitting that yes, it IS a big deal if your KitchenAid isn't the color you want, we returned both of them and spent the store credits on groceries, which was actually rather fortunate considering our financial situation back then was not exactly major-new-appliance-friendly and we really needed to eat.
Then a few weeks ago a big heavy box arrived on our front porch, and because it had Simon's name on it I resisted the urge to break into it, but because I'm not a patient person, I called him at work and suggested that I could maybe open the box for him, as a way of helping reduce his chore list at home, you know, just to be nice. Come to find out, the contents were for me after all, and it was a shiny red KitchenAid.
Now that Wombat's in daycare full-time and I'm only working a half-time-plus-freelance schedule, I have allowed my imagination to soar, my dreams to go wild, my fantasies to come into focus, become tangible, and hover just within reach. What does that fairytale world look like? Are we talking exotic vacations to locales with pool boys and daiquiris and hourly foot rubs by Ewan MacGregor? Of course not. I'm a pragmatist above all else, and never was there such a crusher of dreamlife as the phrase "But is it practical?"
So here's what I envision in this new world order: The dishes are perpetually done, my person is frequently showered, the laundry is cycling through on a regular basis instead of the frantic binge/purge cycle of having either no clean underwear or so many clean clothes there's nowhere to put them. I'd like to advance past the triage stage of housekeeping and have time to do extracurricular things like organize my craft supplies (in hopes of one day finding time to use them) or even just having time to organize the desktop on the home computer so we can see the wallpaper underneath. Only then will we talk about Ewan.
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Housewifery. Pronounce it like a word nerd would pronounce "midwifery," i.e., "houseWHIFFery," which also sounds like "How Swiffery!"--appropriate considering the amount of cleaning it will take to get this place in order.
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Last week during one of Wombat's daycare days, I decided to make bread. I'd had a brand new bag of wheat flour sitting in the pantry since right after I'd received the Christmas KitchenAids, and what better way to cement my new role as sometime housewife than with a loaf of homemade bread? I will wear an apron! I will whistle like a bird! It will be like something out of a storybook!
But speaking of storybooks AND cement, let's just say the three loaves I made were of such solid quality that they were worthy of being mortared into the design of a wolf-proof house. They were edible, just dense. (A classic case of "You eat what you are"?) They were pretty...pretty small. Short. Squat. Heavy. Their BMIs were in the unhealthy range. (They didn't rise at all, and I think my "warm water" was too hot (I heated it in the electric teakettle) and I killed the yeast? Is that a thing that happens?)
(I took a picture with a slice of the smaller loaf held between my thumb and index finger for scale, but when I looked at the full-size photo I realized I had a gnarly hangnail that wasn't fit to post. Maybe I should trade in my pool boy for a pedicurist.)
It's easy to fantasize about what a good housewife one would be if only one had the time for housewifing. Now that I do, I'm actually sort of nervous that I'll either (a) turn out to hate it and/or (b) turn out to be a complete failure at it. Like, what if I realize don't like to make bread? Or what if I'm constitutionally incapable of making bread? Or what if, first-timer fluke aside, I turn out to be some sort of breadmaking savant, or feel like breadmaking is my true calling in this world, and I spend my days making so much bread, bread, and more bread that the dishes, laundry, and my person go unwashed and my family falls into an irreversible carb-fueled coma and when the authorities come for us they'll find me wild-eyed and covered with wheat flour and muttering under my breath something about a Swiffer?
Do you think Ewan makes charity visits to the nuthouse?
I have keen memories of my mom's attempt at homemade bread. Dense and verging on the brick-like, they were still quite delicious when warm from the oven and slathered in butter.
Go go gadget homemaker!
Did you use all wheat flour in your recipe? Whole wheat flour will create very dense breads like you describe because the wheat flour generates more gluten which prevents the loaves from rising.
Joy of Cooking recommends 2 parts all-purpose flour to 1 part wheat flour. You could probably go as high as a 1:1 ratio and still get pretty good results.
And yes, the water in which you temper the yeast can be too hot and kill the yeast beasties. It should be no hotter than ~120° F. I measure the temp with an instant read thermometer, but I'm a dork and do that sort of thing. It should be warm but not hot.
Ditto to everything Dan said, but with the addition that you need to keep your yeast in the freezer or replace it periodically. Also, if you want to make whole wheat breads I highly recommend this book (to which I have no affiliation): http://www.amazon.com/Peter-Reinharts-Whole-Grain-Breads/dp/1580087590/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1276622207&sr=1-1
Thanks, bread friends! Yes, I did use all wheat flour (recipe was from the book that came with the KitchenAid), and I'm pretty sure I killed the yeast with the HOT water--an easy thing to see now in retrospect. I also wondered if it was a humidity thing, or if the bread wasn't in a warm enough spot to rise, etc. etc. Part of the problem is that I'm aware of some of the technical issues that can crop up in baking, but I'm not always sure how to solve/avoid those issues. Practice, practice, practice, and then when in doubt, ask the Internet, right? :)
Yeah, Dan's right - you probably killed the yeast. Sometimes I thermometerize it (that's the correct word, right?) and sometimes I just feel if it's "warm but not hot" with my hand.
I'm always paranoid about my bread rising in a warm enough spot, so most times I'll turn the oven on to, like, 200˚F and sit the bread on top of the oven to rise. Not great for the house on hot summer days, but there will be plenty of warm spots available on hot summer days anyway.
We should bake bread together with our matching mixers!
Ahh... the red KitchenAid. Because I'm a nerd like that, I have both the mixer and several more appliances in the same color. And both my vacuums are red. And my favorite coat. And my car, come to think of it...
Ahem! Anyways, I'm just getting into the "nesting" stage of pregnancy, and have been feeling the uncontrollable urge to bake some bread! Taking notes on not poaching the poor little yeasties in hot water...
"Part of the problem is that I'm aware of some of the technical issues that can crop up in baking, but I'm not always sure how to solve/avoid those issues."
Bread is one of the trickier things to bake, so don't be too hard on yourself. Edibility is a great start!
Sara--Will you make us matching aprons too?
Ellbee--About twenty years ago my family had a good laugh when we realized that our house was tan, both cars were tan, the recliner was tan, etc. FWIW, it was no small point that I wanted the red mixer because it would match the red kitchen chairs and red coffeemaker we already have.
Jenn--It also helps that I live with two boys who will eat just about anything!
I love many things about this post, but the thing I love most is your mention of the pronunciation of "midwifery." Which makes me laugh EVERY time. And I say it whenever I get a chance. And now that you've added another funnily-pronounced word to my arsenal (houseWHIFFery), my life is complete.
(Seriously, if I don't say 'housewifery' at LEAST four times today, I will have considered the day wasted.)
((How Swiffery! Hee.))
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