You know you are baking right, if the recipe starts with a trip to the attic

Yesterday The Talker started asking where things are made. Mainly he was interested in the foods we had out in the kitchen. Apples, soda, water and bread all made the inquisition list.

When he asked about bread, I told him that we "could bake some bread soon". I meant that in the parental sense of the word (also known as possibly never). The boy heard it in the 5 year old sense of the word (meaning SOON!).

He called my bluff this morning and I had to climb into the attic to grab the bread maker. True, my mom did it the hard way, with a mixer and her oven. But she had three kids, so obviously I am smarter than her. Plus, she did not have a bread machine and I do. So nannie nannie boo boo.

We ran to the grocery store to grab some yeast and bread flour. I may have hit the high spot in my day at the store, when I found a coupon for free bread flour with the purchase of yeast. I love freebies!

The Princess helped me mix and measure all of the ingredients. Then we put everything together and started the bread machine. In three hours we will be chowing down on fresh, warm cinnamon raisin bread.

Unfortunately, our labor of love may taste like crap. I set the butter in the window sill to soften up a little and I forgot about it until the bread dough was already mixed in the machine. But not wanting to give up and start over, I added the butter and restared the machine. I don't know that this really accomplished anything except to melt butter on the outside of the dough ball, but we shall see. In fact, you can have the first bite.


Edit: 4 hours later... Never mind. It tastes fine. So get your own cinnamon raisin bread. The only problem, The Talker wanted to bake bread, too. So while little sister napped, we mixed up some old fashioned white bread. It'll be ready tonight when we get home.