Yesterday, Saturday, I began as normal. But I did not monitor the temperature of the milk.
I killed the yeast. It didn’t raise at all the whole day. No leaven at all. Craig told me to just cook it. I refused and threw it away. A quart of milk. A cup of sugar. A cup of butter. Eight cups of flour. All in the garbage.
Today I began again. I cut the cubes of butter, really rectangular prisms, because I’m odd. The smaller pieces of butter melted better and faster.
After five minutes, I could tell it was rising. I felt victorious when yesterday I felt defeated.
Getting ready to roll it out.
Waiting for the oven.
Frosted pan of rolls
The mess of the table. It was yummy. I’m taking some to work tomorrow to share.
Traditions are lovely.
And I’m happy I can still make bread after yesterday’s debacle.