It's bread! Wait... waffles... no, bread!

In an extremely unusual turn of events, I've been doing a decent job of baking things and giving them away. This is mind-blowing, I know. But yesterday I was left in the position of having zero (0) yeasty risen wheat products in the house, and don't forget that it was still within that other dimension I like to call "all the stores are closed on a weekday." What to do? Homework? Right!

So at one point, when I was procrastinating organizing the pantry, I came across all kinds of baking goodies. The "pantry" is more like an empty space under the counter, and baking goodies in this context were oat bran, oatmeal, and about four kinds of flours. Woohoo! It was high time for some Toaster Oat Bread. And how.

I won't repeat the recipe (Kelli did such a nice job), but I made these substitutions:

• soy-rice milk and vinegar for milk and lemon
• raw brown sugar for honey
• 0.5 cup whole wheat and 0.5 cup bread flour for the all-purpose
• added almost a tablespoon of rock sea salt, and
  
• threw some raw oats and oat bran on top for extra good times.

This is the only recipe I have followed, ever, in which the given time was exactly how long it took for golden browny perfection. For more experienced bakers this might not be as important, but I get very motherly-instinct on bread and tend to fret like a high-schooler getting ready for the prom. Is it done? Is it the right color? Does it sound hollow? Is this kind supposed to crack on top? Why didn't you tell me it would be this color? What if he doesn't show up? Where's the corsage? Mooom!

Uh. Right, well in this recipe, the date shows, balances feminism and chivalry beautifully, and knows how to dance. Check it out:

The idea behind this bread is that toasting brings out its ultimate flavor, which makes it a good thing my roommate is gone. From what I have gathered here, toasting as a method is only for when bread is old and hard-- once we had a spanking new loaf and he could barely handle that I wanted to toast a slice. But really, I neededto. Who eats avacado on soft bread?
Germans with fresh bread, apparently. But I've come across opposition to avacado-on-bread period, so take that as you will.
Anyway, toast. Has anyone ever eaten Nutri-Grain toaster waffles? We used to have them in the freezer when I was a kid for breakfast before school. This bread tastes exactly like them. It took me a good four two slices of serious concentration to come up with the taste memory, and man, I haven't had those waffles in years. If I had syrup now, in fact (i.e. if it didn't cost eight dollars a bottle), I would dip the toast in it. Crazy.

From these pictures I am inadvertantly revealing more and more about our kitchen. Check the bread box. Bread boxes are perfect inventions for three reasons: bread products stay crispy-crusted without going (very) stale, bread products are extremely accessible for when one is too lazy to, say, open a Tupperware or bend over and look in the fridge, and finally, one gets to use the word "breadbox." Breadbox!

It reminds me of this children's book in which a young boy is sent to the store for a loaf of bread, and is given a dime with which to pay for it. He walks to the store alone, finds the right kind of bread, and brings it home to the mother, who is busy nursing the sick younger brother. They had a breadbox.

And the broken dishes.... well, that's just a fringe benefit.