Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Fresh Yeast Beer Bread, As if Home Brew wasn't already enough

The greatest proof of God's personal love for me is so often found in that man o' mine. What did I do to deserve this? Absolutely nothing. It just so happens I am the one person on this beautiful planet Obi relinquished his enormous heart and soul to. And it just so happens that almost all of his hobbies indirectly benefit some passive passion of mine. Like drinking beer. Or eating delicious, homemade, fresh from the oven bread that I didn't make. 

He absolutely gets the greatest kick out of making his own beer. Step by step of the process never ceases to fascinate him and indulges that yearning inside to "do it with my own hands." He has always been a one to look at ...whatever..and say "I can make that." Being overrun with work and home life, it is so easy to leave all the things behind that feed our souls. Those desires, lest one loses sight, were put there in the fist place by a loving Father who formed us for Happiness. So indulge away, Obi, God loves you!

i want to grow up to be just like daddy

nothing adds to quality of life more than having
a couple of toddlers supervising

But as if home brew was not enough, one night Obi looked at his unstrained bottle after slowly pouring out the dark ambrosia and eyed the live yeast happily swirling at the bottom. And that great thinker, great cheapskate, great do-it-yourselfer said, "I bet I can make bread out o' that!"  And oh, did he.

don't mind if i do
He looked up recipes for fresh yeast bread and just, well, followed them. What, what would you do? Google, babay. This is what he  found, and this is what he followed, except instead of the compressed yeast, he just added that last yeasty swig from his brew.

happy wife, happy life

It was amazing as it looks and sounds. And if you can believe it,this beaming, voluptuous bread was made from unbleached white King Arthur flour. No whole wheat needed to get this rich color. It did have a very warm, rich flavor, not quite like sour dough, but definitely in that neighborhood. The kids and I gobbled up every bit of it heavily buttered, as we like our life in general around here. And at one point Peter, in very Peterly fashion was heard to be muttering while layering his 43rd slice, "I wish there was more jam in this jar!" Don't we all, Peter, don't we all.

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