lots of flour & memories

We recently celebrated our tenth anniversary. In addition to the functional fun yellow plates, sheet sets and kitchenware, we also chose to register for a pasta maker. I was getting married and evidently transforming into a gourmet chef with time on my hands. Time marched on. We moved. Often. Two houses, three states and three apartments later, the dishes and sheets have been replaced and some of the kitchen stuff. Untouched and still boxed sits the pasta maker. Surprising really because I really use my kitchen and I do make stuff from scratch. My pancakes are the stuff of legend, and my muffins? Well, they have been known to make a grown man cry. Though Mark may also have been emotional from the pending beat down Suzanne was going to deliver when she thought he asked me to make them. I like the version that makes me look better though. My muffins rock.

Still no pasta that Barilla didn’t make.

My kitchen prowess aside, I’m not all that crafty since I’ve had young kids. I have a friend who is actually making Christmas stockings for her 3 year old girls using swatches from their first Christmas dresses. Another friend, a single mom, kept TWO baby books so that her son’s dad would not be left out. Seriously I am in awe. But this puts me to shame. I’m going to have to give the kids my Snapfish password when they want to see baby pictures of themselves. And crafts? I have seen come and go a sewing machine, knitting needles, paints, stencils. I think the last thing I made was a wreath as Colleen & Michelle’s housewarming gift…circa 1997. Very very very sweet that Colleen still has it. I have largely made peace with the death of my former inner Martha.

So you can imagine how my mom could hardly contain her shock when I told her I bought a bread maker. Now in my defense, I was saving Julie from the guilt of never having used it from HER wedding 10 years ago. And nothing to it, they tell me. Toss the stuff in and turn it on. Boom. Bread!

I seriously underestimated the entertainment value of the bread maker. Friday night, my boys passed up a movie in the interest of the bread maker. First, there was the choosing of the bread. That consisted of each boy browsing the 2 inch bread maker cook book. We landed on chocolate chip bread. Then there was the measuring. Tools are fun. Flour is messy. There was some tasting. You cannot measure out chocolate chips and not have a few. There were experiments. I had to get out visuals to demonstrate how the ingredients in separate corners of the bread maker get mixed in more or less simultaneously. Then there were buttons to push. It makes noise and has a little window to peek in. While it was rising, we all walked the dog and came back in time to add the chips.

This thing could have produced a hot brick. The entertainment value, team work and young boy banter was worth it. But it wasn’t a hot brick. It also wasn’t chocolate chip bread either. More like chocolate bread since I added the chips too soon. It was real bread however. I became a woman on a mission!

Now I turned off the machine before going to bed and had seen the bulging loaf of goodness that smelled divine. The boys went to bed leaving a lump of dough. I woke up to “MOOMMMMMY!! Come see our bread!” The gadget I really wanted to appreciate with the Grind and Brew. All three of the boys, including 7 year old Sam who isn’t always as excitable as the 5 year old twins.

We had chocolate bread French toast for breakfast and they could have liked it a little more. That did not stop them. They were dying to turn this thing on again. We dove into the cook book again. I’m still not sure where or how I made this leap, but I announced we were making our own pasta and THAT was a hit! We borrowed Gina’s sweater drier, threw flour, water and salt into the magic pot and waited. We strapped this odd looking pasta maker to the table. Holy smokes!!! I thought the bread maker was entertaining. They got to touch this!!! And move stuff. And it was almost instantly gratifying since it looks just like spaghetti and in a few minutes on the drying rack feels like spaghetti. These were excited boys and thankfully Aunt Gina was there to help reign in the madness. Sammy said in the middle of it, “Mommy, I can’t believe we have all these fun things and YOU’VE NEVER USED THEM!”

We finally sat down to dinner and Aidan said, “Mommy, when I grow up and move into my own house, I will get my own bread machine and pasta maker and I will remember how we made it together.” Noah added, “I will too. And I will close my eyes and see all the steps and tell my kids that I made it with you.”

Mission Accomplished.

And if he forgets what it looks like, I can always refer him to Snapfish.