We’ve taken a break from our regularly scheduled activity to bring you this blog post. Actually, the scheduled activity continues but there is not much to do at the moment but wait, so I might as well write a little somin’ somin’. The scheduled activity is making dough which metaphorically is the activity most week days but is literally the activity today. The dough is for pizza crust as well as a loaf of bread. It might make more sense to just produce enough dough for pizza or bread, yet dough recipes always come in double and since I have been up since 5:30, I am not going to do math.
They come in double size either because we as Americans demand too much from our recipes or because bread is kind of labor intensive, so why not make two loaves while you are at it? I’ve made enough bread by hand at this point that I don’t like bread from the bread machine. This is a pain in the arse because it takes longer and is more work to make bread by hand. It would be tons easier to just dump all the crap in the machine and let it work. It is true what they say, however: once you’ve got to making bread by hand you never go back. Something like that. I’m not sure why they say that and not something that rhymes. Things that rhyme are much catchier. Modern poets don’t use rhyme. Maybe they are the ones making bread by hand.
And don’t forget the pizza dough. I normally do make pizza dough with the machine. Just dump all the stuff in. I’m convinced, however, that making the dough by hand should produce a better dough. So far not so much. I seem to have taken a step backwards in fact as the dough is not rising like it should. This may have to do with the yeast not being warm enough, but at this point you are likely very much unconcerned with the cause of the failure to rise and more concerned with how to reclaim the last two minutes of life which you have spent reading this post.
I’ll tell you: kneed dough. Especially bread dough. Dough made solely from bread flour. Dough with whole wheat flour is, of course, better for you. This dough is not, however, as silky smooth to the touch. As my hands caress the soft subtle texture of fresh dough, feeling its elasticity respond to my firm grasp, I begin to think I should apologize to my Sweet Lady for taking indecent liberties with a foodstuff. The warm body of dough squeals as it releases small bursts of air it has been holding inside. Every so often I rub in a bit more flour as the dough relaxes and solidifies. All of a sudden we are done and there is nothing much to do but lie around and wait for the dough to get itself up.