Carbohydrates Are Bad For MeObviously, this cannot be an Atkins rant. It must instead be a cute tale, ending in injury. Comic injury, but injury, nonetheless.
I have learned over the years various small patches of the vast quilt of knowledge that is "knowing how to bake bread". On a recent trip to the grocery honoring both whim and request I stocked up on various odd grains to throw into bread loaves. We always have plenty of wheat flour about (along with a seemingly unkillable container of corn meal) so I came back with some rye and buckwheat flours and some flax meal, and proceeded to make loaves of bread with all of this stuff in one of those heady early flailing experiments before hunkering down and measuring carefully and taking notes.
I forgot to put in the salt. I hate it when I do that; I am firmly in the "bread with salt in" camp. Other people may not be, for medical or cultural reasons. I am, but I forgot the salt. I also managed to turn out a very moist dough, so it spread a bit on second rise. But it took to the stone in the oven nicely, and came out very well, if a little flattish.
The crust on the bottom of the loaf was a happy result; thick and crisp and richly brown. A little tricky to cut, however, and it took several light passes of the blade to make a clean slice all the way through. All of this motion nicely set up a sway in the shelving the bread board was on at the moment, and a tiny three ounce can of tomato paste wiggled off of its brethren and fell, from above my head, and nailed me in the toe.
All content under copyright by the author. Dancing is permitted. The strange deltic glyphs in the sand under tidal flow are a pleasure to watch in their deepening. Offer not valid in Kansas. We put it down and then we lost it. It all happens in the corner of the eye. Commentary accepted at comment@goob.com, although the traps are agressive and the pointy bits simply drip with dark liquour. We have a dog, but we do not own it. Thank you.