Bread, Glorious Bread

Back in the day after I divorced my first wife, I bought a bread machine. They were pretty popular and fairly new back then and being newly single, I figured I could use some enjoyment in my life. I found the smell of fresh-baked bread therapeutic and gorged myself on the stuff until work found overtook my life. Like so many people, I put it in the closet to collect dust.

When I got remarried, my new wife brought a bread machine to the marriage. I don't even remember if we used them much all the years we had them, but we finally gave them to Goodwill because they took up much-needed space.

About a year and a half ago, I got the bug to get a bread machine again. Despite the fact both my wife and I eschewed unnecessary carbs, we still bought bread at the store, so I figured I might as well make it for us.

I loved the thing from the very first use and have consistently made bread every time I was close to running out, only taking a break when we went out of town for two months last year. I have my own recipe--a mix of wheat, all-purpose, and bread flours and a couple of scoops of fiber powder for the added roughage, as it were.

Even though I'm not a baker (despite my love of cooking), I used the bread machine to bakes cakes a few times, too, but bread is my jam (no pun intended).

As it turns out, though, my wife doesn't like any other bread than sourdough, even if it's homemade. For a while, I considered buying a starter, but I didn't want to commit to the weekly feedings because if we went out of town, it would go dormant (perhaps for good) while I was gone.

Since we're in a stay-at-home mode right now, I decided it would be a good time to begin my own starter. My handy-dandy recipe book had a simple starter recipe, so I used that. Today was day 2 of the project. I have to feed it for a total of 5 days and then once a week.

I'll use this space to report on my first loaf with my starter.

Yours in yeast,
Michael

Cooking Extravaganza

I love to cook. Absolutely. I love all aspects of it...the prep, the cooking itself, the coordination of all the dishes so they're done at the same time, and yes, even the clean-up afterward. My wife gets mad at me because I won't let her even wash or dry the dishes. It's how I relax, I keep telling her.

Yes, I'm weird.

There was a time when my wife did most of the cooking while I worked outside the house. Even though she's a good cook, she really didn't like it. That's similar to my mother, an Italian born of immigrants who is probably one of the best cooks I know (surpassed only by her mother) and only recently discovered she really never liked doing it.

Talk about messing up my childhood.

Anyway, I must've learned something watching her over the years or maybe there's something to the truth that cooking has to be in your "blood" (or DNA, if we want to modernize the myth a little bit). Whatever it is, once my wife and I moved from L.A. to Phoenix, I took over the cooking duties and never looked back.

My wife is a big fan and she (by her own admittance) is a picky eater but she raves about what I serve. Perhaps I cook specifically to her tastes and preferences, and though I like my own cooking as well, I don't consider it rave-worthy.

Though I mostly only cook for us, I've occasionally done so for others, too, including my mother. To my surprise, I've gotten rave reviews, so I guess I'm doing something right.

The only time I don't cook is when we used to go out to dinner after one of our retail forays. My wife, always complimentary, would enjoy the outdoor food but insist I've ruined her for restaurants forever.

Naturally, this self-isolation we're undergoing is keeping me in the kitchen more frequently than in the past and I'm loving it. It's given me a chance to experiment more, oftentimes with my wife as a muse as she finds recipes that look good to her. I don't mind her input at all...it gives me ideas of what she would like to try.

Besides writing, cooking gives me a creative outlet like no other. I'd invite you over, but we should all shelter in place.

Yours from the kitchen,
Michael