Gosh, I have way too much food in here.) For two, I needed something to do and getting my hands dirty, so to speak, seemed like it might be therapeutic. It was either that or a thorough bathroom clean and one of those had the added benefit of resulting in an apartment that smelled like freshly baked bread that I could slice while it was still slightly warm and swipe with butter before eating over the sink. The bathroom could wait.
Julie had recently posted a recipe for Hy's Cheese Toast that I had mentally bookmarked and in it she linked to her own post from a few years ago about Julia Child's White Bread, which sounded almost perfect for what I needed.
I love fancy sourdoughs and rustic no-knead breads, but sometimes I just want a good old loaf of white bread. The bread of my childhood when I was sent to the neighborhood bakery to pick up six loaves, sliced thin, to take to our family of six throughout the week.
Bread, as baking projects go, is hardly work. Exactly the kind of project I needed, too.
Mix, knead, take a two-hour break, punch, fold, take another break, bake, cool, eat.
Since I am completely useless at kneading and since I have a kitchen mixer, I didn't even have to worry about trying to manipulate a shaggy dough into a smooth ball. I do switzerland email list love the tactile nature of kneading, though, so even after the machine had its way with the dough, forming it into a smooth lump, I took it to my counter to stick my hands in it and knead a few turns.
It's also one of those things that's so satisfying. Checking the dough and seeing how beautifully it's risen always makes me feel so accomplished and pulling it out of the oven, all lightly browned, makes me proud. Plus, there are other delights along the way, like the way it makes the apartment smell and the satisfaction of punching down the dough after that first rise, hearing the hiss of the escaping air.
This recipe, as you would expect given that Julia Child certainly knew her way around a kitchen, is easy and the bread comes out like a champ. I felt almost guilty feeling proud of how well they came out because there was almost no effort involved.
Almost guilty.
And then I ate the first slice, still slightly warm, and any guilt disappeared in the joy of eating freshly baked bread.