A Rachel Ray Wannabe

Last week I felt just like Rachel Ray. I wanted to show my students how a traditional Hanukkah food was made, so I brought the supplies and ingredients to make potato latkes. I've got a handy peninsula-like counter in my classroom that was the perfect place to set up my cooking "show". The kids were giddy with excitement as they crowded the "stage" and watched me grate the potato and heat the oil in the pan. This is how Rachel must feel, I thought to myself, except for the moments when I had to separate mischievous audience members and send them back to their seats. 

Yesterday, my cooking adventures continued when I decided to whip up a loaf of sun dried tomato bread in my bread machine. Early in the day, I premeasured my ingredients into tiny glass dishes. My heart sank when I realized that I was out of bread flour and my yeast was probably a year old. I  wondered What would Rachel do? (WWRD) and concluded that she probably would have one of her "people" dash to the store for fresh ingredients. Since was impatient and it was below zero outside, I proceeded. 

During the mixing cycle, I poked the dough and added a little water, curious about how dry the mixture looked. After the rising cycle, I prodded it some more because it still looked crumbly. When the baking cycle had completed, I dumped the loaf out of the pan and wondered if gourmet chefs on the food network would have a special name for this type of dense biscuit-like bread. My husband matter-of-factly suggested that we throw it out.  "No way," I answered. "It has two dollars worth of sun dried tomatoes in it. We're eating it."

 I don't know how a slice of bread can taste dry and gummy at the same time. Three bites into it and I chucked the loaf into the garbage. I'm sure Rachel would have agreed.