Krusty Christmas

So, here's one of the lessons learned for gift-giving occasions: If your delivery address is the same as the recipient's work, it is likely that the surprise will be spoiled.  Whether it's customs forms or boxes with the manufacturer and/or item description written ON the box, there are more than one way that the delivery medium can ruin the surprise.  For example, here is how one of Ryan's Christmas gifts arrived at his work, waiting for him on his desk:

I received a text the Friday before Christmas asking, "Can I open my bread maker this evening?"

"You peeked!" I scolded.

"No, it's written on the side of the box," came the reply.

"Oh damn....I mean,...surprise!" was my return text.

The result was yes, you can open your big Christmas gift four days beforehand.  Ryan was very appreciative and excited about his new kitchen tool.  How was I supposed to know that lovely machine was a Pandora's Box of carbohydrates making it's way into our lives?

The next morning, the Saturday before Christmas and the last shopping weekend for every base on Okinawa, Ryan asked if we could go to the commissary and exchange.  We decided to tag-team it: I went to the exchange to pick up some baking supplies and other things we needed, while Ryan went to the commissary to purchase flour, yeast, and other bread-making essentials.  He had some ideas.

First idea: Rosemary and olive oil loaf

We had to have two tries at this one because of a flour mis-measure, but the product resulting from the trial whereby the cups of flour were carefully counted was perfect.  Wonderful.  Crisp, golden crust.  Light in texture and flavor.  Rosemary subtle, no overwhelming.  Perfection.  Good loaf is on the right.

Next up: pumpkin breakfast muffins.  We had two small pumpkins around for some reason, but we redirected one to this second bread recipe.  The muffins came out more like dinner rolls with a pumpkin flavor so subtle that it was difficult to detect, but they were really good dinner rolls.

Third and final go for the first 24-hours of Ryan and his bread machine: pizza dough.  Ryan assembled the ingredients for the dough, rolled it out, and we made our own pepperoni pizza.  We had no idea what to expect, and ended up with a beautiful deep dish pizza without using a dish.  Our mental adjustments noted that this dough recipe could probably be cut in half if we wanted to get closer to the hand-tossed crust we prefer, not to mention a thinner crust would ensure the center would be cooked through and less dough-y, but the flavor and the crust were very much to our liking.

My gift to Ryan is certainly the gift that keeps on giving, to the both of us.  I think I'll have to train for a full marathon instead of my comfortable half-marathons in order to give these carbs somewhere (else) to go.  In truth, the best part of this bread machine is three-fold: watching his face light up when we sees a recipe he wants to try, seeing the grin when he peeks through the window of the bread machine as it's kneading or rising or baking, and then listening to the sounds of contentment, usually giggles or moans, as the first tastes are consumed.  We go through these motions together, and on the last stage each give our vote: to make again or to forget we ever tried.