I had my first major baking fail a few days ago.
You’ll be happy to know that I did not cry. Not even a little bit. It was a very big step for me.
It all started when my mom and I realized we had roughly 48 pounds of basil growing in our backyard that was about to die in the forthcoming “cold” front. We couldn’t make pesto because my lame ass is allergic to nuts, and pesto is nothing without pine nuts. We couldn’t pick it all and keep it inside for too long, because that would just make us the weird basil people. So I said I could bake bread with it.
Yea, My decision-making ability is on crack or something.
My mom asked if I had ever done such a thing, and even though I had not, her question suddenly made me feel like I could. I mean, seriously, I would just be baking bread and adding basil to it. Duh.
Too bad being cocky comes back and bites you in the ass. Or is that just me?
I googled basil bread just for funsies (because I, of course, already knew the recpie. Bread + basil=Basil bread. I repeat, duh). I found one, printed it out (for funsies) and ventured forward.
There were so many “incidents” that could have warned me that this wasn’t go to work:
- I almost got stung by bees at least 18 times while picking the basil.
- The yeast never foamed while it was mixing with the liquid. And yeast ALWAYS foams. (We found out later that our yeast had “died”. How sad)
- Kneading the dough almost broke my shoulder. It NEVER hurts that bad.
- The dough did not rise at all during the two hours I allowed. Dough ALWAYS rises when it has yeast in it.
- I’m dumb.
So after it hadn’t risen, I realized this bread was not going to work. So what do I do? I proudly announce that I was going to turn them into bisciuts.
Because biscuits don’t rise? Refer to reason # 5 above.
I rolled and rolled that dough until I decided that it was doing exactly what biscuit dough does. We use to have a biscuit cutter, but I couldn’t find it. Insert star shaped cookie cutter here. I made about seven and put them on the baking sheet. Then I went to put the extra dough together to roll it out again to make more starts.
Of course that dough did not come together. A normal person would have accepted defeat and moved on with their life. I decided I was going to turn them into breadsticks.
I have no explanation for who I am anymore.
After all the sad dough was shaped into whatever the hell I decided it should be I put them in the oven and felt all sorts of proud.
Then I burned them. Stars and breadsticks.
I still ate one, out of pride.
The good news? My dog now has wonderful basil infused star and breadstick shaped treats for at least the next week.