Scratch That

Our pastor and I were talking about my middle son making the bread for communion during our Holy Thursday service. A nearby grandma said, “Oh, what a wonderful thing to do – I used to make knot rolls and braided baguettes with my kids!”

I looked at her blankly before I realized she was talking about making bread from scratch – mixing, kneading, punching, squeezing, forming, and baking. I am not unfamiliar with the concept – I have, in fact, done it that way as a child, with my own mom.

Sure, and my mom used to sew a lot of our clothes, too. I don’t even like to sew on buttons. Last year, I felt particularly triumphant when I paid the dry cleaner to sew the patches on my son’s Tiger Cub uniform, until someone clued me in to Badge Magic^™, the revolutionary new way to attach badges to Scout uniforms without sewing – it’s peel-and-stick badge adhesive.

I had to fess up that I intended to use our newly acquired bread machine to make the communion bread, and that once I put the ingredients in, I wasn’t planning to open up the machine (and I admonish the kids about this very fact) until they turn into bread.

My middle son is a selective eater, and when he had devoured the bread at one of my friends’ Sunday dinners recently, I was so excited about the fact that he tried something new, and liked it, that I made my request on our freecycle list – and got the bread machine the very same week. An additional bonus is that now he and I have a special activity to share.

On the morning of Holy Thursday I supervised while my son measured the ingredients and poured them all into the bread machine. It took all of about ten minutes, including our discussion about The Last Supper, and then he was off while the bread machine did its thing.

In comparison, the scratch method would have taken hours. Sure, we’d get breaks when the dough rose, but by then my son would already be in school and I’d be an hour into my work day.

Our busy schedules and the ease of automation and/or pre-packaged baking mixes are all I need to justify not baking from scratch. Muffins? Empty mix into bowl and add water. Cookies? Tear apart the little refrigerated dough squares. And everyone has always loved my cake and brownies – thank you very much Betty and Duncan. As one of my colleagues confirmed, “If it comes out of your oven, it’s homemade.”

My mom has pointed out that boxed mixes really only save you a few steps – since the ingredients are in my cabinets anyway –

“Time is money, Mother.” I interrupt.

…“While more than doubling the cost,” she replies.

Hmmmph!

At church recently, my youngest was eating a sliver of chocolate bundt cake with white confectioner’s glaze. He delivered the following news with a smile and a song: “Dishes beddadin yo-was.”

I gasped. “Can I get you a napkin, honey?” I marched over to the kitchen window in the fellowship hall. “Okay, who made this delicious cake?” I asked the ladies serving refreshments. “I simply must have the recipe.”