The loaf that might have been

This is a picture of the loaf of bread I had hoped to eat with tuscan white bean soup later this evening. I haven't made bread in over a year. I've never made bread in Oregon. Or in an electric oven. Or from a kit. This loaf was going to be my experiment. I am putting together a "How to bake bread" kit. I wanted to use Bob's Red Mill bread mix because they are somewhat local and because their flours are of great quality. If I have to put together the kit from scratch I will have to have all kinds of licenses to produce food. If I use Bob's bread making kit to add to my bread set, then I don't have to worry about that. I think.

What doesn't come in this nifty little bag of bread tricks is dog hair. Wanna know why? Because it sticks in your throat. I only left the dough for two minutes (on the kitchen counter) to check my e-mails. I came back and the ball of dough was gone. My dog came into the kitchen with her soulful eyes and they looked the tiniest bit guilty. I thought "My god, she's eaten the entire ball of raw dough! Is there nothing she won't eat?" Seconds after thinking this, I found my dough, slightly molested, covered in dog fur on my living room floor.

Then I realized that what she was really trying to convey to me was her horror that I would defile her mouth with such a hideous food product that not even a dog would like. It was accusation rather than shame in her look.

So there's something I wouldn't have guessed: my dog likes cat poo better than raw dough. Interesting.

Maybe I could have started over. But it was already twelve. That's getting really late for bread baking. What's worse though? That was already my second attempt to bake bread today. I was going to make rosemary thyme bread. To go with the soup. A special treat for my mom. Unfortunately for me, after proofing the yeast, I added my wheat flour, and immediately noticed that it smelled rancid. Well that sucks. I happened to have a new bag of wheat flour so I did a comparison between the new one and my old canister of wheat. Yep, no question about it. It had that icky old, stale, slightly sour in an unappetizing way smell. And I had already used up most of my tender rosemary tips from the garden. I don't even want to know why I didn't just use the newer wheat.

So I turned to the Bob's Red Mill bread. Then my dog happened to my dough.

And now I have to go play lego war or hot wheels with Max without the comfort of knowing that while I am taming the little monkey, I have bread yeast working hard for me in the kitchen.

But don't cry for me. I'll be fine. Really I will. Because I am zen woman with Ghandi-esque patience and compassion and respect for hoodlums and bad doggies.