Better Butter Bread!

Say that five times fast. Or just shut your mouth and eat some of the delicious bread I just baked.


I mentioned in my last post while I was making lunch I was also ruining bread. I said this because while I was trying to lay all my ingredients and have them measured and ready to go, I was more interested in having photo ops for my blog so I could take pictures in the process, for once.

Somehow I managed to mix in the wheat flour when it should have been the bread flour. Also the measurements were off. I was convinced I had just ruined it and almost threw it out. But, not wanting to waste good yeast, I stuck with it.

I’m so glad I did.


Even though I messed up the measurements a bit I tried to compensate during the kneading process. That’s right, I kneaded. Kned? Still just knead? I did that thing with the dough and my hands.

I’m convinced that’s why I didn’t get the second rise that first time. Also I have a totally new appreciation for grandmas everywhere who used to do this shit on the regular. I was sweating bullets. Not because it’s physically exhausting like running up and down the stairs but because it’s like kneading fucking bread. Next time I get a professional massage I’m going to extra thank them and explain that I knead bread,  so I know the struggle.

A noticeably and completely different dough texture. I got the first rise in about 30 minutes and while it had doubled like before, there was just much more to it. After punching and separating the second rise only took about an hour. I probably could have let it go on longer but I was a little apprehensive about that warnings I previously read about too long for the second rise.


I even got a little bit of oven spring! I was so excited! So excited that I took it out probably 5 minutes prematurely without letting it cool and buttered up a slice. The taste is great, a little less sweet than the first batch I made, but I think the bread was a smidge under done. I threw it back in for 5 more minutes and I’m sure it’s fine.


My dad just swooped in and stole a slice, slathered in butter and I didn’t hear any complaints so it must be good. In fact he threw me what he mistook for a compliment. “It tastes just like what you would buy at the store.”


Except that it doesn’t. No soup for you.


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