Friday, October 22, 2004
I had my worst baking disaster ever last night. It trumps the Coconut Cake fiasco.
Because the Coconut Cake fiasco was caused by an ingredient that was on the edge of bad, but not detectably, and the baking hastened its demise, ruining the cake. Had the ingredient been labeled with a freshness date, we could have averted that disaster. It taught us to only buy containers with freshness dating on them, or to know the source of the ingredients.
Last night's disaster was all my fault. I can't blame it on faulty ingredients.
It is entirely my fault.
I was going to bake a loaf of Bacon Bread for this weekend.
Please note past tense.
I cooked the bacon nice and crispy. I mixed the ingredients and let it rise the first time. All was well up to this point.
Then I shaped the dough and placed it inside the loaf pan. The loaf pan went into the individual loaf proofer, and that was set inside the oven to rise the second time.
Then I cooked dinner (Bubble and Squeak - using left-over bacon, with chocolate frosted peanut butter bars for dessert).
Then I cleaned up and went to bed.
But wait! What about the bread rising in the oven?
It rose all night long.
This morning, as I played with and fed the dogs, I suddenly shouted, "The bread! The bread!" and dashed back into the house.
I opened the oven and - yay me! - I'd closed the proofer lid tightly enough that no dough escaped. But the entire proofer was filled with the huge glob of errant dough. I pulled the lid off, and strings of dough clung to it, then plopped back down into the oozing mass of bacon flecked dough.
Awful as it looked it still smelled good - sort of like a young sourdough. I had hopes.
So I set it to rise while I finished getting ready for work.
It rose. It didn't look very pretty, but it rose.
So I baked it.
Listen closely now: DON'T DO THIS.
It was awful. It was thick and clumpy, it baked only partially. Even the dogs wouldn't touch it - and Dogboy will eat anything I give him. He may look reproachfully at me if he doesn't like it, but he will eat it.
Not this. It sat like a misshapen brick on the patio out back and the dogs circled it warily. When I left it there, returning to the house - they howled mournfully, so I took pity on them, retrieved it and tossed it in the trash can.
To preserve your sanity, I took no pictures.
May all the Gods who ever were, are, or will be guard over the trashmen when they pick up the trash this morning.