I ended up with a house that smelled wonderful, but flour everywhere and bread that resembled some kind of crazy looking rock. It was very hard, dense, and had their been snow I'm pretty sure my son could have used it for hockey pucks. Rats. This was much harder than I thought it was going to be. So, I convinced my husband we should go to his parents that weekend, and I fessed up on my mistake. When I showed her the picture, she said "knead". Oops....knew I forgot something.
The next day we made bread together, with me trying to take some pictures so I could remember how it felt. I learned that you can use your hands (really!) and how to "fold" the bread. The end result with her help was beautiful. Returning home, I waited five whole days before I attempted again. The end result:
I had bread!!! Okay, so only one loaf really turned out really good, but I learned the others are good for French toast. The beast thing about it? My husband came home, tried the bread and proclaimed "Just like Mom's". And then he called her and told her! Little things to make my family happy really make me happy too. Who says bread isn't good for you?


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