A sense of humor is helpful in the kitchen and life, especially if you are going to take risks in both. I may not have it immediately in the moment – something I should consider working on – but generally within 24 hours I can find a laugh.
Often in January I like to tackle kitchen projects that just aren’t on the menu in July, like breads. In part because I love tearing off a hunk of warm bread to accompany a big bowl of soup in the winter. Slather it in butter or dunk it in olive oil – I don’t care. It’s just very comforting.
Of course, bread isn’t one of those devil-may-care projects. It requires yeast, a living organism, water, and flour. Salt is optional for some, I prefer it in mine. I like to feed my yeast with a little honey to give it a boost. All of this seems pretty simple, and if you bake bread for years it probably is, but if the proportions, temperature, or yeast is off – well, you’ve got a lump of baked paste.
I’ve made a few of those this week.
There are a few things that can go wrong with bread. One is temperature. Bread likes places where it is warmer than 70 degrees, which it typically isn’t in my house in January. When I make bread in late spring, summer, or early fall, this isn’t a problem. But in the dead of winter, I am usually stashing the bread next to the heat registers.
I should put it along a south-facing window, which is above a heat register, so that it gets the warmth of the sun. But that would require the sun to shine. Which it hasn’t done, except for a few hours here and there, since sometime in November.
But we are a people who adapt to our weather conditions. So the bread goes into the bathroom in center of the house. I have to warn visitors and my daughter not to kick the bowl on the floor over. Most people don’t expect to find a bowl of rising bread in the guest bath, I guess.
I baby my bread. I put warm, damp cloths on top to provide heat and moisture to those little yeasty guys doing the hard work.
Unfortunately, my little yeasty guys weren’t working. Perhaps they went to Mexico for the winter.
Or, I could have read the expiration date on my bag of yeast (yes, you read correctly; “bag” of yeast). And it would have told me that it was a year past its “best by” date. So I imagined my little yeasty bakers were using walkers by now. Or had retired permanently.
I’m a big fan of King Arthur Flour for recipes and ingredients. I went there to order more yeast, and a few other essentials, parchment paper and a kit to make a coconut cake. Everyone considers ingredients for coconut cake essential, right? The parchment paper and the yeast didn’t add up to qualify for free shipping (about $8), so I bought the $25 coconut cake kit to bring my order up to qualify.
I did not major in math.
And the shipment arrived – in two boxes. Which was fun. Except that both boxes contained the same order – so now I had lots of yeast, parchment and two kits to make a coconut cake. Only the kits didn’t include coconut. I really need to wear my glasses when I order stuff online.
So I called King Arthur to tell them about the double order. The first question she asked was whether I was charged twice, which I hadn’t. Then she told me FDA rules prevent returns of food stuff. So I could keep it. So now I have enough yeast to start my own bakery. And I can make 2 coconut cakes – only I have to go to the store to buy the coconut, butter, and powdered sugar to frost the coconut cakes.
I should have ordered the scone pan.
Anyway. I hope King Arthur is laughing about this.
On the subject of a free second order … I order my hair color from Madison Reed. Have for about a year as a blonde. Before that, for a year as a brunette. Loved the color. Had no problems with the color. It was easy. I could even make a coconut cake while coloring my hair.
But this last order – my platinum blonde (10 NA, for those in the color biz) turned beige on a Wednesday night. Or, as my daughter noted, my hair color matched my skin color.
I called, e-mailed, and online chatted Thursday morning. Of course, the kind colorist explained it was my fault. I had done something differently. Only I hadn’t. But they nicely offered to send me, overnight, a new kit. Please send them a photo with the lot numbers of the color and developer. I did. The new box arrived Friday.
I followed the directions. And my hair turned – beiger. Only I don’t think that is a real word. It was kind of khaki. And then I looked at the lot number. It was the same as the one on Wednesday.
I did not have a sense of humor about this. I kid no one about my preferred hair color. It is not natural. I like it that way. The platinum is sort of the white/silver I would like it to be, but it is not. Hence, the hair color – a 10.
I do not want to be an 8 or a 9. I want to be a 10. Maybe 11 even, if there is such a color. But a 10. And now I was maybe an 8.
So I called Ambridge Rose, where Jamie cuts my hair, and Char fit me in. I would like to say they got my hair color back. After 2 hours, Jamie was close. Whatever was in that Madison Reed batch would not come out. She bleached. She toned. She colored. But there remains some copper where there should be ash.
My hair needs a rest before it can be adjusted again.
Like making bread, I need to be patient. I need to accept that hair, life, dinner – doesn’t turn out exactly the way I want it every time.
And I need to remember to laugh a little more about it. So I imagine, my little old yeasty guys with their walkers hanging out waiting for their wife to get out of the salon with her white/coppery pink rinse.
And then I head back into the kitchen to master my bread recipe. Because tonight is a soup night.