The Great Baking Disaster, Time of Coronavirus Series

Yesterday my project was baking bread. I have celiac disease so I counted myself lucky to find and order a box of gluten-free bread mix with hard-to-find yeast. I carefully followed the directions, making substitutes only when necessary because of the limitation of ingredients we had on hand.

I set the loaf carefully in the oven to rise, utilizing the “proof” setting on the fanciest oven I’ve ever had. When the dough had nicely risen above the level of the pan, I pulled it out of the oven and set the temperature for baking. In the meantime, I sat and rested as I again checked Amazon to see if they might have one of the items for which I had been searching in vain.

The oven beeped to signal the correct baking temperature had been reached. So, I opened the oven door, picked up the glass pan of bread dough, and, oops, it slipped from my hands, just as I was setting it on the middle rack. The glass pan did a sideways landing. As I tried to right the pan it tipped all the way over (another “oops") and very sticky bread dough dripped from that rack onto the rest of the racks. If this had occurred on I-65, the guy in the traffic copter would have called it a rollover accident with probable fatalities. I must have said something, (probably not “oops”) as my spouse, god love him, came running.

If I’d had my wits about me, I would have taken a photo or just sat down and cried. Instead, using spatulas, knives, pot holders, and our hands, we both tried to scoop the dough back into the pan. In doing so we only made the mess worse. I felt like I was in an old Woody Allen film, back when they were slapstick funny. We had spread the sticky dough everywhere, including on the oven door, between the oven door and the frame, and the floor.

We wiped the mess as best we could and I looked at the dough we had managed to recover and put back in the pan. It was a lot less dough and the top of the dough was covered with little black specks of burnt-on food picked up from its adventure on the oven shelves and door. You clean-food people will be happy to know we tossed the dough that had landed on the floor or outside the oven.

If you truthfully are repelled by a little dirt, do not read the rest of this post--REALLY! STOP READING NOW!--because I scraped some of the black spots out of the dough, smoothed the top, and put it back in the oven.

By dinner time the smell of fresh-baked bread filled our kitchen. I carefully took the bread pan from the oven and, after letting it rest, removed the loaf from the pan.

The great baking disaster ended well. We each enjoyed a slice of the bread with a little butter, proclaiming the taste excellent. No apparent traces of oven debris were found in the loaf—at least so far as we could tell. Maybe it’s helpful our old eyes don’t see as well as they once did. We also concluded, with some scientific-sounding pronouncements, whatever bits of previously burnt food that might remain no doubt were safe to eat after baking.

Belatedly, I realized my error that had caused the calamity. Following the bread-making directions, I had spread butter on the top of the dough as it proofed in the oven. But I had not covered the bread. When the dough rose, the butter had melted and apparently dripped down the outside of the pan making the glass pan slippery.

There were many beneficial outcomes from the great baking disaster. In addition to having fresh bread for dinner, giving the kitchen floor an extra cleaning, needing to wash all the towels, pot-holders and the like that had become bread-dough encrusted, I also learned a lesson of what not to do when baking bread. And perhaps most significant, I don’t have to worry about my next project: reading the manual for cleaning the oven.

Happy fun in the kitchen to all of you.

Staying Busy in the Time of Coronavirus

Heroes live amongst us. At hospitals, emergency services, grocery stores, trucking, meat-packing plants, farms, and the hosts of other occupations that until recently we have failed to recognize, these heroes have been more than busy. The rest of us who are not on the front lines have mostly been stuck at home.

John Milton wrote, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” I doubt he was talking about staying home during coronavirus, but who cares? The quote sounds appropriate to this time. And a lot of us are getting tired of “standing and waiting”, especially with masks on and at least six feet apart.

If we are honest we know that in comparison to the front-line heroes’ sacrifices, our small inconveniences are miniscule and petty. So, I offer some encouragement to those of you itching to get out and about but knowing it’s a bad idea to race to the nearest, newly-opened bar, restaurant, or other non-essential place where you can become part of the second wave of coronavirus.

There have been so many articles and stories written on how to amuse yourself at home, how to fix your own appliances or plumbing, how to cook gourmet dinners, clean your house like a professional, or preserve your home-grown produce I won’t add to them. Personally, I’ve seen so many ideas for these amusements I’ve had to pace myself. After all, I’m a retired senior.

As Al Pacino would, and did, say, In Scent of a Woman, “I’ve been around, you know.” At one time I cleaned my own home, including scrubbing the front steps and my kitchen on my hands and knees, baking bread and making homemade granola, cooking dinners, making jams and juice, as well as working at least 40 hours outside our home. Until we had the financial wherewithal to send shirts to the cleaners, I also ironed my spouse’s and sons’ shirts. Since then, I’ve endured a tiny bit of well-deserved complaint from my daughters-in-law for our sons’ lack of domestic experience. A true Wonder Woman would not try to do most everything herself but teach others how to do for themselves.

Now, my knees, hips, back, and the rest of me aren’t what they use to be. I try to walk a bit in the park every day. The rest of the time I sit and read, interspersing a project or a chore per day. Oh, and I also spend some time nearly every day seeing what necessities I might be able to order online. I found trail mix and cloth face masks online and ordered both. Though not the type of trail-mix my spouse prefers.

We have all gotten used to not just settling but being happy to find anything close to what we want in some categories: different cuts of meat, different types of household cleaners, as well as more expensive prices for ordinary things. I for one, can’t figure why the pandemic has caused toilet paper to be scarce and the price of body wash and contact lens cleaner to both increase by a factor of ten. But we celebrated my husband’s last shopping trip when he scored not just disinfecting wipes but Charmin toilet paper. Woohoo!

I also was successful in ordering gluten free bread mix, complete with yeast. Who knew celiac disease would turn out to be a blessing. Soon I will tell you about my baking project. For now, I hope you stay healthy and can continue to try to keep yourself and others safe by staying home and waiting awhile longer.

Living in the Time of Coronavirus: Will I Have to Learn to Drive Again?

I hope you and your families are well. We watch news reports until we can’t stand it anymore. My spouse and I are staying at home except for walking our dog in the park and necessities. My spouse goes out for groceries, every two weeks unless we run out of something we think we REALLY need. Luckily, he is a good shopper, with a mask and an organized list.  When we can’t stand the monotony of eating our own cooking we order carry out. We count ourselves lucky to be able to afford groceries and occasional carry out.

I may forget how to drive if I stay home much longer. But on the positive side I’m getting better at doing my own nails. I write some but not as much as at first with the stay-at-home. The writing is therapeutic for me even if the reading of it is not for you. I tend to write longish essays that I then need to edit and chop into shorter posts. You, my sweet reader, no doubt wonder—how can she drabble on for any longer than this? Well, there is a lot of free time now for some of us.

I also am baking bread and doing what housecleaning my arthritis allows. Hell to get old. I now read the obits in the daily paper and am startled to see how many of the dearly departed are the age of my husband, myself, or younger. Not sure how many of those listed have died from coronavirus.

Reading the obituaries makes me think perhaps I should write my own obituary now. At least I could make it a bit funny if I do it while I’m still healthy. Shall I mention my awards in college and law school, as I’ve read in other obits? Or the fact that I’ve been preceded in death by many wonderful and loving collies. If they are in heaven I won’t mind passing to that world, assuming I’m amongst the blessed. Or perhaps I can use what Martindale-Hubbell wants to put on a plaque they continuously try to sell me? No, I think I need to give this more thought.

I’m doing lots of reading and some zoom “cocktail parties”, with my book club and another women’s group. Lots has been written about the best way to Zoom.  Zoom can be challenging for largish groups. But recently we Face Timed with our teenage grandkids. That is not at all challenging or overrated.

I never thought I could value the hugs of loved ones more. But now the coronavirus has taught us those hugs truly are to be cherished.