Actually, I shouldn't say handyman. Handyman doesn't even begin to describe him. I should say, rather, household maintenance guru, or household protector, or perhaps just household guardian. Yeah, I like the last one.
Our household guardian is sick.
The man of whom I speak is an older gentleman who, over the last few years, has transformed our house from a creaky, draughty farmhouse into . . . a slightly less creaky and draughty farmhouse (who am I kidding here). The point is though, that because of Ralph (his name, and he doesn't have a computer so he'll never read this haha) we have windows that open. Because of Ralph we have doors that close. Because of Ralph we have a side porch that, as of yesterday afternoon and some elbow grease from mum, is ready for breakfasts, teas, and suppers out of doors.
But Ralph is sick. Not dramatic Lifetime movie sick, you guys, don't worry. He just has a really bad cold. But he sounds like hell. I know this because he called this morning about getting some windows at Home Depot and Mum says he sounds like the crypt keeper's cranky grandfather who's been buried and then dug up again.
Mum also says that Ralph advised me, through her, not to use WD-40 on my squeaky spin bike wheel because it's not the right viscosity (?!?!) and that there was another kind he recommends but I've already forgotten what it's called.
Note: For those of you doing the math. In the almost two months since I've been home I've managed to wear through one entire set of spin bike pedal straps AND get a squeaky wheel. Yes. That's a lot of spinning. What can I say. It keeps me calm.
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| An example of a head-bashing-in loaf of bread. |
I figured if Ralph was sick, then a good, solid, head-bashing-in loaf of bread would cure him.
But what kind to make?
Well. I've had this recipe kicking around on top of the printer for a few weeks now, and I've been wanting to try it. It's not a basic yeast bread, it's a bit earthier, a bit heartier. Hopefully, it's a bit . . . what's the word here . . . heal-ier? getbetter-ier? anticold-ier? You get the point.
MOLASSES WHEAT BREAD
I gotta say, I've been a bit off Martha since the Lemon Thyme Cornbread incident. (See here. I'm still planning on redoing it, but the thyme we got at the store last week was less than spectacular, and I'm holding out until I get the good stuff.) We've been in a sort of fight since then, and I may have said some things I'm not proud of about sugar and recipe measurements although they were completely deserved.
ANYWAY. I decided to put our differences aside, accept her apology, and move on. Big of me? Yes, I thought so too.
I wanted something that would warm you from the inside out. Something that would keep you satisfied and happy and yay-I-ate-awesome-bread-this-morning all day long. Basically I wanted something that would make you look like the kid they use for the Quaker Oats commercial. You know the one that eats a bowl of oatmeal in the morning and gets this revelatory smile on his face? Then aces his math test, climbs Mount Everest, and saves blue whales? That one. So, I made up with Martha, and took the Molasses Wheat Bread plunge.
The original recipe is here. I tweaked slightly to reflect what we had in the kitchen (or rather, what we didn't have in the kitchen). My version is below.
INGREDIENTS
In a large bowl, whisk together whole-wheat flour, rye flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add canola oil, yoghurt, and molasses, and mix well. Add oat bran and mix again.
Divide batter into between two 9 x 5 loaf pans (if not nonstick pans then grease with canola oil or cooking spray) Bake at 375 degrees about 45 minutes, until a tester comes out clean. Let cool on wire racks before turning out.
BEETLE NOTES
The two loves came out normal sized, so . . . so far, Martha, we're good. And the recipe didn't call for any sugar at all, so we wouldn't fight about that. Yes, fine, molasses is sweet, but mixed in with all that wheat germ and rye flour, the sweetness will (at least I hope it will) be more of a background, dimension-giving taste than anything else.
I didn't use flax because due to it's extreme Beetle Un-Friendliness we never have it in the house.
(Quick SAT analogy. Flax and Sunflower Seeds: My Stomach / North Korea: South Korea)
I normally shy away from using canola oil but in this case butter would have been completely wrong, as would olive oil, honey, or agave. And I'd used up the buttermilk so I used the lowfat yoghurt, which, due to its lack of full-fatness, Mum won't eat.
Yes, dear reader, my mother, my 5'7'', 110 lb mother, drinks only whole milk and eats only full-fat yoghurt. Also eats butter with everything. Also cheese. Hate Mail can be addressed to Mother of Warrior Beetle, 1 Beetle Lane, Beetle-Upon-Tyne, Beetleshire, WB1 5MB
Same pantry inventory reason behind the wheat germ/oat bran switch out too. We always have a lot of oat bran in the house because, full disclosure, I like to eat it directly out of the box with a spoon. Dry. I might be turning into a horse, actually. Slowly. Perhaps I am an evolutionary phenomenon.
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| You can't tell from this photo that my triceps were ON FIRE as I was clicking the shutter. But they were. |
I did this without the mixer, and I probably didn't need any of the upper body yoga I did beforehand because oof that was a lot of stirring. I left it in the oven for about 50ish minutes, until it was nice and browned on top. And it smells, I have to say, pretty much like the olfactory equivalent of the Quaker Oat kid. Nourishing, warm, and sustaining. When the aforementioned Mother of Beetle gets home she will pass final judgement but at the moment, I think it turned out pretty well.
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