I am really not the Betty Crocker type most times. I rarely make breakfast for my husband, I eat leftovers for lunch and usually my dinners consist of items I remember my mother making over and over again. I just don't fit the fantastic cook and housewife mold.
But, the other day, I succumbed to the desire to be housewifey.
I spent hours and hours on a Saturday morning to make homemade jam.
Two flats of berries, twenty five pounds of sugar and 103 containers later, we had jam.
And then I realized we were out of bread.
No problem, I can just whip some up...
This would have been the point that I should have had my head examined. Who was I kidding? I hadn't made bread in years and I had never made bread successfully.
Three misshapen loaves later, we had bread to put our jam on.
If I start churning my own butter, please check me into Blackfoot South.
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