On Today's Menu. . .

In an effort to be more healthy overall, I have decided that I am going to attempt making my own bread because then I at least know the ingredients in the carbs I consume. Today I tackled (quite literally, story to follow) Honey Oat Bread and Blueberry Muffins.

Okay, I know muffins aren't hard to make. Go ahead and roll your eyes at that one and then tune back in because I didn't cheat and use a mix (sticking tongue out at the naysayers right now). Instead I made them from scratch using whole wheat flour and fresh blueberries. Oh, and this fantastic oil I found at the Queen Creek Olive Mill (http://queencreekolivemill.com/). It's a Vanilla Extra Virgin Olive Oil and it is fabulous for baking. The fresh blueberries and vanilla combination made the fact that the muffins were whole wheat less obvious. Definitely one of the easier things I have baked and now I cannot foresee myself going back to using a mix.

It's a shame the same could not be said for the Honey Oat Bread. The dough was perfect. It rose just as it should. It looked lovely. Unfortunately the loaf pans were the problem as they were not large enough once the dough rose even more while baking. The cookbook should have noted that the dough would double its size at least three times in the process from start to finish, but it tastes good even if it isn't all that pretty to look at. And if anything, it was good practice since I am still determined to master bread.

Now the story of the literal tackling and how I put my blood, sweat, and tears into my baking efforts today. The sweat part is obvious. Anyone living in a small apartment with an oven in the middle of a desert even in winter understands this one. The tears came in while checking my email between projects. There was a very touching forward in there about some awesome historical post-Holocaust love story blah blah blah (tears) that turned out to be fake (astonishment at the nerve of some people to make stuff like this up). The blood part comes in because by the time I got around to "punching the dough" I was quite frustrated about the fan I had tried to take apart to clean and the fact it made a mess in the process. I punched the dough rather hard back into the bowl it was rising in (one could classify it as possibly showing that dough who's boss) when lo and behold my thumb nicked the edge of the bowl on the way down and the skin of the knuckle split. Ew, I know. The good news is blood, like alcohol, cooks out of the food when you bake it. Totally kidding. I made it to the sink prior to ruining the bread. The ruining the appearance came later when I tried to remove the finished product from the loaf pans. Based on my experience today, I am considering adopting the phrase "loaf top" as opposed to "muffin top" when referencing the fold of skin hanging over the waistline of pants that are too tight on the wearer. Seems more appropriate.

Anyway, that sums of this week's culinary adventures. Hopefully my next round is met with less mishaps. Then again, this is me in the kitchen we're talking about. . .