…That a girl gets to be in ABryanPhoto 🙂 You most likely know, if you’ve been around long at all, that our neighbor and dear friend across the street is a phenomenal and highly coveted photographer. We had a Christmas party in his studio this year, and when he casually asked if we all wanted him to snap a picture of each couple, we fell over each other to get in line 🙂 The camera he used looked like it was from 1985, and I wondered what in the world he was going to do with that old thing. The pictures he took were still perfection. Surprise. Surprise. Which I guess goes to show you that a truly great photographer doesn’t need a bunch of bells and whistles. I love these/am sharing them, because I feel like they show our relationship so well…mainly because he snapped away before we knew he was going to 🙂 Thanks Bryan!
Jeremiah: Let’s do something different for our shot.
Me: I don’t know, Jeremiah. What do you mean different?
J: Like, jump up right here and I’ll hold you.
Me: Maybe you haven’t seen how tight my dress is…and are you sure you can catch me?
J: Are you seriously going to stand there and talk smack like I can’t hold you up?? Have you seen me lately? Do you think your husband is weak? Just jump.
In all that talk, guess who forgot to take into account the length of her dress? And look who is totally oblivious and proud of himself 🙂
Our girls went to Dothan this weekend for some adventures on the farm, while I went away with a few friends, and Jeremiah…worked (bless his heart). However, I came home around lunch yesterday and we had the entire afternoon and night to just hang out together sans les enfants!
It’s not like we don’t ever get babysitters, but when we do, there is always something specific planned. Not yesterday. It’s hard to explain how fun it was to just be in the house together, eat lunch and not dodge food being thrown by the Dapples, or answer Pace’s questions about how the world works. We went to a movie, just because we could. And then, while the entire nation watched the Saints win the Super Bowl, we decided to skip the party we were supposed to attend and go somewhere for a quiet dinner…even dessert. When he left for work this morning, we were both sad. It felt just a little bit like when we were first married and I cried every time he walked out the door. Sometimes, it’s good to be reminded that I don’t just live with my husband, I live with my best friend. Who else can make me laugh like picture 2?? 🙂
Guess who has officially made SIX loaves of bread???!!!! Delicious bread, if I do say so myself…and I think I will 🙂
I’m sorry that I checked out on the play-by-play during the day, but we had Ashley over for a birthday dinner last night, so I had few other little things to think about. I did manage to snap pictures so that I could show you now.
Ok, so when I last left you, I was in tears over my exploding yeast and milk fortified potato flakes. However, Mrs. Linda (my MIL and the holder of this recipe) saw the blog and called me with some reassurance. While she was not sure what the milkey potatoes would do to things, she did say that the explosions were, not only normal, but a good sign that my yeast was healthy and active. She also strongly encouraged me to ride it out, bake the loaves, and understand that bread making was an art not a science. I just needed some practice.
I received this little pep talk while I was out running errands (one of which was to buy the proper kind of potato flakes for my next batch of bread), and when I came home, I was greeted by this magnificent site:
Can we talk about how my heart flipped over??!!! It has risen! It has risen indeed!!!!! Y’all this was the first time anything I’ve ever attempted has actually risen. Let that sink in… Oh my goodness, it felt so good.
I soldiered on to the next step, and once you get going in this particular bread-making process, your kitchen will always have three rising processes going on, like this:
(None of those burners are on, BTW. I think that this is the warmest/least drafty part of my home, and I’m so excited that you’re all getting a peak at my messy burners :))
Here’s a nice little picture sequence. Plop the risen dough in the pans (no kneading required!):
Let it rise for 6-8 hrs (and throw a party like me every time you peek inside and find that things have actually risen!):
Bake it low and slow for 30 minutes:
Butter the bread tops (are you having to swallow the drool so it won’t run down your face :)) and breath a sigh of relief that the milkey potato flakes must not have been that big of a deal:
Scream, “Thank you Jesus, I’ve made bread…and it’s GOOD!!!!”
Mrs. Linda’s bread recipe:
Starter: 2 cups warm water, 3/4 cup sugar, large package of yeast (2 1/4 tsp if you buy it in bulk at Sams), 3 Tbl instant potato flakes (I hope we all learned that they are supposed to be plain). Put in mason jar with little holes in the lid and let stand in warm place for 8 hrs.
Dough: 6 cups bread flour, 1 Tbl salt, 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 cup vegetable oil, 1 1/2 cup warm water, 1 1/2 cup starter. Mix and cover with a towel to rise for 6-8 hrs. (Add to/remake your starter).
Punch bread down (I actually got to do that this time!) and divide into 3 greased bread pans. Let rise 6-8 hours. (Mix second batch of dough)
Bake at 325 for 30 minutes, and then call and tell me about how it’s the best bread you’ve ever put in your mouth 🙂
I was hoping to have a series of organized posts, mainly pictures–few words, documenting the process of me conquering my fear of bread making…I should have known better. The FIRST (of what I hope to be many) eight hour increments, brought with it disaster ONE.
First thing this morning–Dough. Which was looking/feeling a little sticky (do you say tacky in the bread-making world?) to me, but I shrugged it off. “I have been uber precise,” I told myself, “there’s no way this is wrong.” Jeremiah is having his breakfast/coffee without me, but it’s ok, because this morning, I am a bread-making wife. Reach around and pat myself on the back.
Add to starter (Which, BTW, this isn’t sourdough bread, as some of you have been hopeful for. Maybe I should have tried that instead :)). Cover it all up, warm and snug, to rise and react for the next 6-8 hours.
Let’s get a time check for COMPLETION, shall we…
Pat myself on the back again for my dedication to the bread. Put my camera down, and notice a faint hissing and popping noise, new to my kitchen. I turn around to my little safe bread operation and find THIS:
Try to resist the urge to cry. Shoo Jeremiah out the door, hoping that he doesn’t notice. Try to figure out WHAT IN THE WORLD I’VE DONE WRONG THIS TIME?! And discover this: 
Maybe you even noticed it in yesterday’s post! These aren’t just plain ‘ol potato flakes–they already have the mashed potato mixings dried in. Butter and milk! How was I to know? I feel like I’ve been punished for mashing my own stinkin‘ potatoes all these years!
So, I set my starter in the sink, to hiss and ooze out of its container at will. And I went to console myself by pouring a cup of coffee, opening my book, and smothering the only type of bread I, apparently, can make, with honey…
…a canned biscuit.