Day 7: French Triplets

No knead French bread is the recipe I used. It made 3 loaves. This time, I had to mix the yeast with warm water and set it aside for 5 minutes and when I did, it went rabid on me! It was the frothiest yeast mixture I’ve ever seen. It even started increasing in volume during those 5 minutes. Happy was the yeast. This recipe called for a cup of boiling water and a cup of cold water. I had to use 6 ½ cups of flour! My Kitchen Aid handled it all rather well. Then, once I was finished mixing, I had to let the dough sit for 40 minutes and I had to gently stir it every 10 minutes of that 40 minutes. Talk about demanding attention! I played along. At the end of the 40 minutes, I had to divide the dough into 3 equal parts and roll each part out into 13x8 inch rectangles. I am not good at rolling out dough into rectangles. It looked more like an impressionist’s version of a rectangle. Once they were rolled out flat, I rolled them jellyroll fashion and put them each on their very own greased baking sheet. They each rolled out a little different and I could tell that each one of the loaves was going to have its own personality. They all three handled differently. Just like my children. I wasn’t sure what to name them at this point, because it was still so early in the process.

Bob (the 200degree oven with a hot pot of water)
held what I thought was going to be the prettiest loaf (must be the girl). The little room around the corner from the kitchen was all warmed up and ready for the other two loaves to start their rising. The recipe said I was supposed to “cover them” while they rise. Eeeks. I was hesitant about that as I haven’t had any good fortune covering dough. But, I went ahead and threw tea towels over them. I just wasn’t feeling good about this though. If you have been keeping up with my journey in bread-making, you too are probably feeling apprehensive about me covering the loaves with anything.

An hour goes by. I go into the little room to check on the “boys”. I gingerly lift the tea towels; they don’t stick to the loaves. The loaves are beautiful. One of the boys is stubby and fat while the other is long with good girth. Nice. I go to Bob to check on the “girl”. The tea towel sticks. Now, I don’t mean sticks like the time it did in day 4. I mean, STICKS. Like glue. S-T-I-C-K-S. Aaaaugh! Crap! My towel now has dough stuck to it like…like….well, like I scalped the loaf. My loaf, my pretty girl loaf…. *phfft* deflated and became a lumpy, gooey blob. I called it Jack-Jack. Right then and there, the name was stuck. This was going to be that kiddo. Okay, fine, we’ll deal with this. I am a mother of boys afterall and I have experience with strong willed children. Jack-Jack was no exception. I yanked the baking sheet out of Bob and trotted to the little warm room. I looked at the other two loaves and decided I better dress them for the oven. The recipe calls for cutting slits on the top of the loaves and brushing with a milk & egg mixture and perhaps topping with poppy seeds. Well, as you know, I haven’t had any good fortune with creating holes in my bread. This results in some sort of disaster. It is at this moment that I think about if I should go through with it or shrug this part off. I leave the little room. I open a drawer and pull out a knife and a knife sharpener. If the recipe says use a sharp knife, then, that’s what I’m going to do. I walk down the hall carrying my knife and milk & egg mixture with the brush. I decide that stubby boy would go first. I carefully make my cuts. Nothing tragic happens.

I brush the mixture over the top of the newly inflicted wounds and the loaf’s little body. I quickly trot him to the 400 degree oven. He makes it in. SAFE! Uhmmm… I had sesame seeds. Where are those sesame seeds? Found ‘em! I open the oven door and sprinkle some on Francois (the loaf’s new name). Francois did not want seeds. He bounced them right off of his chest like Superman bounces bullets off of his. Okay, fine. Whatever little man, just cook and be yummy for mommy.

Fifteen minutes later, Francois is fragrant. I go to check on him and he’s awfully brown. Quite the tan. I pull him out of the oven and place him on the wire rack to cool. I turn the oven down a little bit; I’d hate to have another one so dark. I go back to the little room for the next victim. Jack-Jack is UGLY. He’s expanding in width, but not rising tall. I decide Francine (the boy who is now a girl because Jack- Jack became something other than the girl I was hoping for). Francine, who’s long and beautiful, received 5 cuts. She took them well. I brushed the milk & egg mixture over her and sprinkled sesame seeds on her. She wore them like a girl wears accessories. They enhanced her beauty 100 fold! I trotted her to the oven. She becomes a lovely shade of gold in 15 minutes. Out she comes and onto the wire rack beside her stubby little brother Francois.

Back to the little room for Jack-Jack. I must say that the slits I cut into him actually became him. Sort of like tattoos on a biker. Or a tan on a surfer. Or red paint on toenails. Or…well, you get the picture. I brush him with the milk & egg mixture and he wallows in it. He loves the goop being smeared him. I do not sprinkle seeds on him. I trot him to the oven. What you do not know about Jack-Jack is that he made for himself a baking buddy. Remember his scalped dough that was stuck to my tea towel? Well, I took a knife and scraped the stuff off. I made a little dough ball out of it. It was the size of a small apple. I cut a cross on the top of its little head and brushed it with milk & egg and sprinkled seeds on it. The little booger and Jack-Jack baked for 15 minutes. Jack-Jack rested on the wire rack while I waited all of 2 minutes to eat his little buddy. Yummy.

Jack-Jack was eaten 30 minutes later with homemade chicken soup. Francois will be consumed with a spaghetti dinner tomorrow night. Francine will get wrapped and stored in the freezer for a later date with destiny.