I always feel betrayed when someone gives a post a salacious headline, and then you click over and find out that the title was totally misleading. Doesn’t stop me from doing it though. Now that I’ve got you here, stay with me. This post is about being lazy, and baking, and the universe taking its revenge. So much more interesting than reading about an affair, right? Right?
I’ve been on a bit of a baking kick for the past few months. Ever since we put in our kitchen (with some major help from Frigidaire) I’ve been rediscovering my love of baking. I had always found baking to be a really indulgent experience. The best baked goods tend to require hours in the kitchen, fine ingredients, and complete attention to the task at hand. Baking is also a great way to slow down, to savor, to linger over something. For me baking has never really been about the finished product (I’m more than happy to use mixes and shortcuts if it’s just a pretty finished product I’m after), but about the process, so it’s no big surprise that for over three years, while we were using a crappy disgusting little kitchen with gross counters and a terrible oven, I barely baked. I definitely didn’t want to linger and savor in that space.
So, once I had a space I loved being in I started baking with a vengeance. I was drawn mostly to breads. I now have ample counter space to knead dough on, and a great oven that bakes very evenly, and I’ve been making all of my breads from scratch, by hand. Kneading bread is one of those lost arts. Some people regret the loss of hand-written invitations and phone calls, but I don’t miss those things. Taking a few hours to bake bread, though…heaven.
I somehow managed to get married without getting a stand mixer, and I don’t have a bread machine. I have absolutely nothing against either of those things, and if I had them I would probably use them a lot. There are times when I want the bread without the work, and I simply don’t always have time to bake from scratch. But last night, while preparing to make cinnamon bread, I stumbled upon the dough hooks for my very old Oster hand mixer. I had forgotten I had them. They’d never been used. It was late, I was tired, so I decided to give them a try. I don’t know why, except that I was being severely lazy. They weren’t going to save me any time – it’s not like a stand mixer where I could just throw everything in and walk away. And they weren’t going to do a better job than I could, I’m really good at kneading dough. No, it was simply to save my arms the work.
So what happened? I think I broke my mixer. I went to put it away this morning and there’s now something rattling around inside that wasn’t rattling around before. I think I strained it with the thick dough. Who knows if dough hooks on a hand mixer are really meant for bread dough? The bread was great…the kids and I finished most of it off for breakfast, hot out of the oven. But now I might need a new mixer. And for what? I saved myself a little arm workout, that’s all. I think the universe is trying to tell me not to be lazy, and that it will take out my appliances one-by-one if I don’t comply.
Originally posted on Selfish Mom. All opinions expressed on this website come straight from Amy unless otherwise noted. This post has a Compensation Level of 2. Please visit Amy’s Full Disclosure page for more information. Amy also blogs at Filming In Brooklyn, Behind the Screen, and the NYC Moms Blog.