A friend and coworker at my previous job kindly gifted me a cook book upon my departure. Since I am in the process of deciding whether to burn it I won't name any names. Lesson to self: don't say things like "oh you make bread? golly gee boy am I sure not very good at things involving flour and yeast" and open the door for some thoughtful person (yes please read into that) to help you out with just the thing.
The book? The Italian Baker, by Carol Fields. Otherwise known as the hard-core, no-nonsense guide to eating the next closest thing to a trans-Atlantic flight straight to the homeland. Apparently.
So, what the hell, right? It's not like I'm going to let the book win outright and just sit on a shelf. And I mean, seriously Ashley- you're a chemist for God's sakes. That's almost like having a degree in, well, measuring.
So, baby steps- which really means I started with the only recipe in the book for which I had all ingredients on a Thursday night around 9pm. Biscotti Integrali.
Things I learned from this experience:
1. Even if you weigh your ingredients it is possible to inexplicably have to add a f***ton of flour in order to roll the dough as oppose to 'a little.'
2. Is it normal to eat a cookie in Italy and ask the baker, "did you add the sugar?" If so, then I am already a success, and also James will fit right in with the locals.
**Yes, I added the sugar. I weighed it bitch.
3. Anything, and I mean anything, tastes better sandwich-style with maple flavored peanut butter bulging from in between. At least in Seattle it does, and I bet in Italy too...especially if they are baking Biscotti Integrali all the time.
4. Milk helps too.
5. I hate milk.
Not exactly off to a good start...stay tuned. Next up: Ciabatta bread. See mess in pic for sneak preview.
