I make bread. Does that make me some amish-type throwback? A freak show to be ridiculed? A do-gooder wife and mom? Super mom? (I actually AM SuperMom, but that’s stuff for another self-glorifying post.)
Maybe I’m just tired of paying $4.29 for a loaf of the (extremely delicious) take and bake variety at the store. We eat bread in mass quantities. The whole no-carb craze never reached our family. Nor WILL it ever reach our family. Plus, and friends of mine know this, I keep my house at the miserly temperature of 64 degrees during the winter. It’s DAMN cold in here, right up thru May. Making bread really serves many purposes. In decreasing order of importance, it sets me up as a deity to be worshiped, it makes my friends feel like terrible, lazy wives and mothers, it warms my frigid home, it feeds my family, and it saves me money.
The recipes I use could not be easier. Honestly. There is hardly a way you can screw this up, people. Give it a shot. I’m pretty sure that you will love the bread, but I guarantee you will become addicted to the drug that is absolute power and supremacy over your friends and family.