Ellie has been asking nicely (okay, whining incessantly) for french toast made with challah. She wanted me to buy challah at the store, and I pointed out that we have chickens at home who lay lots and lots of eggs and I in fact, know how to make bread.
Today was Baking Day. Granola, dried apples, sandwich bread, scones, I planned to keep the oven (and myself) hopping.
Of course managing the flow of yeast breads is something probably left to professionals or at least people who don't occasionally have to leave the house. I missed the sweet spot for the whole wheat loaves to go in the oven and have sort of bricky bread. (Cut in half, then flip cut ends down and slice vertically, and even the flattest loaf is big enough for a sandwich or toast.) The challah had over risen and had to be punched down again and reshaped.
You'd think I might have noticed that it was, well. . . big for the loaf pan, but no. I just redid it, braided and patted it, and slapped it in the pan. Later I baked it.
My new oven actually has a see-through door. Fun, but it also allowed me to see that I had made a fairly large error.
That was actually two loaves' worth of bread. The braid top is easily as big as another loaf all by itself. Oooops.
FrankenChallah tastes great, and I went ahead and made another batch, using four more eggs, and only screwing up what kind of flour I used this time.
Thank goodness the red kale seedlings are so cute and frilly. I spent some recuperative time outside cooing to them.
Thinking Ahead . . . Or Not
9 hours ago