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Susie Breadmaker
Apr. 21st, 2004 12:30 amA week or three ago, Mom got me a breadmaker. Naturally, I was thrilled; I love bread of all shapes and flavors, and to be able to make my own was a heavenly proposition.
(I've never made bread. I'm a decent cook, but I have a breadmaking phobia that can probably trace its roots back to my childhood, in which Mom baked homemade bread with terrifying ease. I assumed long ago that anything Mom can do, I cannot possibly equal; the attitude was probably appropriate in childhood but has taken overlong to fade.)
I unpacked the breadmaker right away and began assembling ingredients with an engineer's careful methodology. Flour, salt; water, yeast. I plugged in the breadmaker and punched the buttons, only to be stopped by a beep and an error message.
( ...darn breadmaker. )
(I've never made bread. I'm a decent cook, but I have a breadmaking phobia that can probably trace its roots back to my childhood, in which Mom baked homemade bread with terrifying ease. I assumed long ago that anything Mom can do, I cannot possibly equal; the attitude was probably appropriate in childhood but has taken overlong to fade.)
I unpacked the breadmaker right away and began assembling ingredients with an engineer's careful methodology. Flour, salt; water, yeast. I plugged in the breadmaker and punched the buttons, only to be stopped by a beep and an error message.
( ...darn breadmaker. )
