A Loaf of Bread and Thou

I don't think it's a disgrace that I'm not a good cook.  I wish it were otherwise, and I have put together some decent meals from time to time, but in the last few days, my inner chef has encountered some major challenges to its well-being.

First of all was the unfortunate pairing of chorizo sausage with a sweet and sour sauce and rice.  Looked reasonable, tasted awful, and truly, deep down, I knew it wouldn't work but I had promised Dave I would use some stuff we had in the fridge.

I made a double batch of macaroni and cheese, with which I usually have success, but I forgot when it came to the sauce, that I had doubled the recipe.  Not a winner.

But my worst trial was with the bread machine.  We had had a bread machine before, but the loaves were at least 2 lbs, which were too much for us, so we gave the machine to one of the kids.   Then last week, we saw a bread machine that will make a 1 lb loaf, snatched it up and brought it home. 

Dave made the first loaf, and it was delicious and goldy-flaky.  I made the next which was heavy with a crust thick enough to do myself harm with---and I did. 

Dave made a French loaf.  Guess what it tasted like.  Use words that are interchangeable with "to die for". 

This morning I made another, but as the white flour was in an unopened bag way at the back of the cupboard, I used multigrain flour, and did something else bread-unfriendly and ended up with what looked a bit like a tough brown kid with mumps.

I am so glad I am able to bounce back from the awful inner-chef place that loaf sent me to.