Adaptive Curmudgeon

This is my new domain.  It’s destined to be the eventual home of Adaptive Curmudgeon (which, for now, still resides at wordpress).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xos2MnVxe-c

I tallied up the points as follows:

Points for mix based, non-mechanically produced:

• Fewer ingredients.
• So simple a monkey could do it while stoned.
• Kneading pushes my heathen soul closer to enlightenment.
• Another point because enlightenment is a big ticket item.
• Another point because stoned monkeys is setting the bar really low.
• A shape that doesn’t remind me of a tragic heartless Owrellian future.
• Crowd pleasing texture.
• Extra sweet taste.

Eight points.  Not bad.

Points for dump it and forget it, non mix, as prepared by a robot:

• No kneading.
• Superior and exacting instructions.  (The mix instructions don’t mention kneading and bad instructions make me want to punch a kitten.)
• I’m pissed off about the national debt and irrationally blame a can of bread mix.
• You don’t need a “warm place” to let the bread rise.
• Less messing around frees more time to drink.
• Less dishes to wash is the American dream.
• No need to clean, use, find, or own an oven.
• The timer knows when the bread is done so I don’t have to give a shit.
• Another point for less dishes to wash because that’s one of my main goals in life.

Nine points.

And the victor is… a machine.

Sure there are less subjective test but the only subject that matters on my blog is me.  Get your own blog.

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Happy with my tally of the results I hit “save” and wandered over to the liquor cabinet for more…   coffee.  I passed by the bread machine and made a shocking discovery.

It wasn’t working!  The heater was heating and the timer was timing but the paddles weren’t paddling.  I had thought it was fine but apparently the brick had killed the drive mechanism.

I took off my hat and paused.  It was a moment of silence for my bread machine.  “You die too soon, oh trustworthy bread machine.  Victim of my tinkering with mixes, I salute you.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon popped her head in to see me, drunk, holding a mini wake over a kitchen appliance.

“What’s up”, she probably knew whatever I said would be inane.

“The bread machine.  It has fallen.”  I intoned.

“No biggie.  Isn’t that the machine you got used.  Didn’t you trade eggs for it?”  She never liked my machine(s). (I’ve had several.)

“It died well.  In service.  It’s in a better place now.”

“Appliance heaven?”

“Yes, appliance heaven.”  I muttered.

She paused at this.

“So who won the ‘bread race’?”  It was a good gambit.  It was her attempt to come up with something to say to a drunk who was swaying around the kitchen orating about the life and times of an old, cheap, junky, appliance.  You should have heard me whine when the coffee grinder had to be replaced.

“I have to revise the points.”

Wisely, she ducked out.

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Now, I present to you the new point tally.  The mix officially wins with a tally of 208 to 59 points.  I count them as follows.

Fifty-nine points for dump it and forget it, non mix, as prepared by a robot:

• Nine points based on the race.
• Fifty points because it died in battle!

Points for mix based, non mechanically produced:

• Eight points based on the race.
• One hundred points for successfully identifying and engaging the enemy.
• One hundred points because bread mix “drove its enemies before it”.

So there you have it.  Providence Pantry Bread Mix is not only tasty and so easy a stoned monkey can make it but it also can seek and destroy those who oppose it.  I therefore heartily endorse Providence Pantry Bread Mix.

Kneading makes bread and bitching doesn’t.  So I started kneading.

Something happened to change my mood; kneading was fun. Who knew? Squish squish squish. Sip coffee. Sip whiskey. Repeat. Squish squish squish. It was a smallish loaf so it was pretty easy. I pounded the shit out of the bread and started thinking that it was a kind of meditation. No wonder women like kneading bread. Squish squish squish. Outta’ coffee? Who cares, sip more whiskey. I’m kneading baby! Squish squish squish. I should do this more often. Squish squish squish. You know there’s something absolutely wholesome about kneading. You could be a serial killer that makes puppets out of dead baby seals and you suddenly have a halo when you’re kneading. Squish squish squish. I made a smiley face out of dough. I sipped more whiskey and flattened Mr. Smiley face. Squish squish squish. I was humming a tune. Sure it was “Don’t Fear The Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult but that’s just because I forgot the words to “Amazing Grace”. Don’t harsh my halo dammit.

All too soon I was done. I hereby suggest that anyone anywhere should knead bread whenever possible. If only because it’s an excuse to be an adult while playing with the equivalent of Play Dough.

Should I add points to the mix approach because it forced me to spend fifteen minutes out of my busy day in pleasant mediative reverie? Is that antithetical to my “manufacture” attitude? How much whiskey did I drink while kneading? Do I care? I decided to add two points to mix for forcing me against my will to take a short jaunt down the road toward spiritual enlightenment.

Then came a 15 minute “let it rise” period. You need to use a “warm place” for this. I live in the tundra and heat my house to “pipes aren’t froze so shut up”. Carter wouldn’t wear a sweater in my house, he’d burn it to stay warm. I added one point to the machine for self-heating the ingredients while I wandered around the house looking for a place that didn’t feel like a glacier. (The wood stove wasn’t running that day.)

Then I assembled the stuff I’d need to bake bread in a machine “from scratch”. There aren’t many ingredients in bread but it did take longer to find everything, measure it, dump it into the machine, and put it away. I gave one point to the mix for truly demonstrating the concept of stoned monkey.

My ingredients were in the machine and it was doing it’s thing long before the kneaded dough was done with its 15 minutes lag time. I had time for more coffee and whiskey; another point for the machine.

Before I had time to get bored, the bread had risen. I had to knead it some more but this time I only did it for a few minutes. Not enough to feel smug and righteous but enough to make a mess on the table. No points either way.

Then I had to prepare a bread pan and stick the loaf in the pan. Probably I don’t need the pan but have I mentioned that I follow the damn recipe like it’s direct orders from God? Yeah, well I do so if it said “carry to the loaf to Mount Doom and throw it in the volcano” I’d do that too. Fiddling around with bread pans is a hassle. One point for the machine which used the pan as a mixing bowl too.

Then I had to let the bread rise. It was only 40 minutes but I gave another point to the bread machine which had dutifully left me alone since the moment I’d turned it on. The bread rose and I tossed it in a pre-heated oven. I gave the bread machine another point because there’s always shit in the oven and I had to clean that out too.

Behold, it has risen!

Less that a half hour later the bread was done. Unfortunately I had to use judgment to decide when the crust was golden brown. This is different from the bread machine which will beep when it’s good and ready.  I for one welcome our mechanical overlords which time the bake cycle on our behalf. In keeping with the nature of modern American society I gave the bread machine another point for removing the need for judgment.

I belatedly admit that the human mind prefers this to the the heartless cube which emerges from a machine.

I dumped the loaf out of the pan.  I had to admit that it looked nicer than machine bread.  I can make “pretty bread” that looks practically gourmet but since I gave this bread virtually no serious effort I mentally expected a generic ugly duckling.  Not so.  It wasn’t the ugly Orwellian loaf produced by a machine. While not gorgeous, the presentation on the cutting board made me appear rather competent. One point to the mix for making a “normal” shaped loaf. Another point for making me look competent.

Within minutes the stamped happened.  People came out of the woodwork. Bread was sliced. Bread was consumed. Smiles abounded. I was a hero!

I took the time to survey the audience.  I though the bread was a bit mealy for my tastes. Everyone else assured me that I have no taste. I’ll admit that my tastes aren’t for everyone. I sometimes make 100% wheat breads that are like hard tack from the Napoleonic wars and more suited to fueling up before fighting a dragon than delicately nibbling with a little strawberry jam. What can I say, I like bread with horsepower. I decided the mix based bread was far more suited to the average American palate.

Also I thought it was a little too sweet (being “honey wheat” that’s to be expected). Everyone assured me that my disposition is plenty acidic enough for the whole world and sweetness is good.

I bowed to public pressure and awarded the bread two points for crowd pleasing texture and taste.

Then I asked who was going to wash the bread pan.  Every living being in the house (except me and my dog) vanished. I gave the machine another point for producing fewer dishes to wash.  Had I done that before?  No matter… it’s a key finding and worth whatever points I’d allocated.  It only took a minute to clean up.  (Editor’s note: Gentlemen?  If you share the kitchen with the missus do you leave the kitchen in better condition than you found it?  Don’t lie!  You do?  Does she back you up on that?  She does!  Well done sir.  Carry on.)

I didn’t bother to obsess over the bread machine loaf. I’d been ignoring it and until it beeped and wasn’t going to learn anything interesting.  I’ve eaten a thousand loaves based on this particular recipe and they’re remarkably uniform. I poured more whiskey and turned on my laptop to make my final assessment of the bread race’s finish.

Stay tuned for the final tally:

It all started when I purchased some Provident Pantry Bread Mix from Emergency Essentials.  Just for the record I don’t get jack squat from either Provident Pantry or Emergency Essentials so don’t chalk me up as a corporate shill.  So far I’ve been delighted with Emergency Essentials’ service and reasonably pleased with stuff I’ve bought from Provident Pantry.  Your mileage may vary.  Enough of the introduction.  Let’s get to the main event:

Every bunker needs some cans of bread mix!

I already make bread by hand all the time (using double batches of a no knead recipe and fresh milled wheat for eight loaves at a go).   I also use my bread machine all the time (often using simple recipes and store bought flour for cheap fast 2 pound half white/half wheat loaves).  The idea with the mix was that I’d use it when I’m in a big hurry.  I’d scoop some mix into a bread machine, add water & yeast, and then get on with my life.  Good plan.

Wrong!  Putting the mix in my bread machine created a brick.  Whoops.

Now the question had turned to whether the mix truly was a labor saving technology at all.  Enter my concept: the bread race.

I would make some bread with the mix (but without a machine) and I’d compare it to making bread using a machine.  It’s not all about speed, it’s about hassle too.  If the bread machine takes longer but I can be splitting wood while it’s working then I don’t care about speed.  If I’ve got to hover around the oven babysitting my creation, I care very much about every last minute.  I decided to give points to either process based on which one pissed me off the least.  (It’s my bread race.  I’ll score it how I wish.)

Subjectively I assumed the mix was going to lose big time.  Why?  Because it’s reasonably easy to make bread by hand and it’s even easier to make bread with a machine.  The mix would need to turn easy into “so simple that a monkey could do it while stoned”.  A tough challenge indeed!

I started with the mix.  As expected you need more or less nothing but the can of mix and a jar of yeast.  That’s the whole point of a mix.  The photo below shows everything you need:

Some measuring stuff, yeast, and a can of mix. nothing more. Looking good.

I thought I’d need the big red tub for when the bread rose.  I didn’t need it.  Thus, even a second bowl was overkill.

The oil isn’t a big deal.  You put a little on the dough when it’s rising.  The oil covers the bread surface as the yeast does it work and keeps evil spirits from infiltrating the bread and turning the yeast into spiders.  (There is a reason I don’t write cookbooks.)

Eagle eyed folks might notice the whiskey and coffee cup in the background.  There is absolutely no reason why you should be sober while baking.  Duh!

When you use the mix you start by dumping mix and yeast into a bowl.  Stir it a few seconds.  Then add water.  I had to admit that it truly was so simple a monkey really could do it while stoned.  One point for the mix.

Then…  What’s this?  The instructions tell you to mix on low speed for 1 minute and then high speed for 10 minutes.  This word “speed” seemed to imply a “speed setting”.  Thus presuming the presence of a stand mixer (one of those heavy duty kitchen appliances that make cake mixers look like a child’s toy).

I call bullshit! This mix was specifically made for someone who owns a $300 stand mixer but won’t acknowledge the existence of a $50 bread machine.  No damn way am I just gonna’ let that roll off my back.  It’s just not cool!

Mrs. Curmudgeon, hearing my rants, came by and topped off my coffee.  She rocks!  Meanwhile I stirred with a wooden spoon in my best approximation of a human powered stand mixer.  I added a snort of whiskey (to the coffee) and grumbled.

Mixing dry ingredients like flour by hand ‘aint a big deal.  On the other hand, it’s more or less impossible to standing there like an idiot rotating a wooden spoon once water has been added.  This pissed me off.

I was going to have to knead the bread.  I was dreading it.  First of all it wasn’t mentioned in the instructions and I like following the damn instructions.  I’ll get creative elsewhere in life but food is (to me) all about processing materials.  I don’t care if I’m gutting a deer or making coffee, I prefer an ordered set of steps and will stick with it like I’m defusing a bomb.

Kneading is just too damn much like “cooking food” and not enough like “manufacturing food”.  Cookbooks are constantly yammering about how firm the bread might “feel”.  Add a dash of flour here at touch of liquid there.  Those are the parts of the cookbooks that I rip out and use for kindling.  I’ll happily gap a spark plug with a gauge or weigh reagents on a scale but “guesstimation” annoys me.  Kneading seems like guesstimation.  I gave one point to the bread machine approach which skips that step.  Then I gave another because the instructions said nothing about it.  Then I gave a third because I’m pissed off about the national debt and the can of mix got caught in the crossfire.

I started pondering how hard it would be to convert my variable speed drill press into a mixer.  Brilliant or stupid?  Anyone ever try that?

Stay tuned while I fume about kneading and ponder a gas powered, sixteen horsepower kneading machine because I’m an American dammit:

When posted that I baked a loaf of cement I got a lot of advice.  (Including a great deal which was not recorded in text / comments but delivered in person.  The personal advice came in sentences that began with “Curmudgeon you dumbass… you should have done it like this…”  You know who you are!)

While mostly very helpful, some advice was based on the erroneous impression that I’m a helpless schmuck.  Indeed one could be forgiven for thinking I’m one of those gutless beta males who are typecast as the dad in every breakfast cereal commercial.  You know the commercials I’m talking about.  The ones where a trophy wife and a six year old laugh at the antics of a male who somehow can’t make breakfast without either setting the toaster on fire or getting heart disease?  Fortunately, that is not me.

I don’t cook but I do manufacture.  I manufacture reasonably well actually.  When it comes to manufacture of bread I’m not totally helpless.

To repeat… when necessary I can bake the living shit out of a loaf of bread.  I own it.  I dominate the bread and make it do my bidding.  Does this mean I can make flan?  No.  If I want flan I’ll damn well buy it.  (Or possibly invade the country where it comes from.)

I just wanted to make the point that I can venture into the kitchen without getting the vapors from accumulated estrogen.  In fact I’ll refer to my series I like to call “bread baking advice for men and creatures that think like them“.  This series was based on bread that had nothing to do with a bread machine.  (I started with wheat berries and went from there… is that not the full Monty?)

• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread 0: Class Prerequisite
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread I: Motivation
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread II: Workspace
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread III: Equipment
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread IV: Consumables
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread V: Flour
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VI: Mixin’ Stuff
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VII: Paydirt
• Curmudgeonly Cooking: Bread VIII: Tips

Behold what I have wrought!

That was then and this is now.  The task at hand had to do with the use of purchased bread mix and whether I could combine it with my trusty bread machine to make bread with slightly less effort than breathing.  Experiment one in that vein was a failure.  Stay tuned for experiment two, the bread race.

You may recall that I had a potential “bad bread event“.  I hadn’t posted the results (which we’re still in play at the time).  In the interest of full disclosure I offer my update:

Behold! I have made wheat into Portland cement!

At the time, it appeared that the bread machine had completed it’s cycle.  Clearly I was wrong.  The bread didn’t properly rise.  (Note: it tasted surprisingly good for a brick.  In the event of a zombie apocalypse I’d be happily munching on it without complaint.  Life is all about compromise.)

Nor was I upset it didn’t work.  One does not scale the peaks of culinary manufacture (I do not “cook” I “manufacture”) without a few failures and the theory I’d been working on was “fuck it… let’s see what happens” (a direct quote).

My real concern was the machine which is cheaper than a wood splitter but no less loved.  It seemed none the worse for wear.  Huzzah!  I cleaned the bread machine and tossed the brick to the chickens.  (Here’s a note: chickens will devour a two pound loaf of rock in less time than you think.  Those little bastards are land piranhas!)

Unlike politicians, I can learn.  If attempt one went down in flames that means nothing!  Nothing I say!  Attempt two shall be better, faster, stronger.

I have decided to try a bread race.  I’m going to bake another loaf using the mix I’ve bought but resort to hands on work and the oven (which is tragically unautomated).  This will be in direct competition with a loaf based on cheap store bought flour in my trusty bread machine.

Remember, this is not about making the best bread, it’s about controlling labor inputs while producing something that’s “good enough”.  Also competition makes us stronger.  (Cue the theme from Rocky!)

Stay tuned.

I love bread makers.  I use ’em hard and tend to wear them out.  (Like many things bread machines are built shitty and cheap… I think most of them get used only rarely.)

Usually I mill my own flour from grain (huzzah!) but sometimes I get lazy.  Recently I bought  “Honey Wheat Bread And Roll Mix” from Provident Pantry.  (A company that’s usually excellent.)  I intended it as a shortcut for making bread in my machine.

The instructions had no provision for bread makers.  Their usually excellent and informative web site doesn’t even admit that bread makers exist.  I called their info hotline and got a well informed young man who almost died when I asked about break machine use.  Seriously, he almost crawled out of the phone trying to avoid saying anything about bread machines or their alleged utility for theoretically making bread should such a question arise in some other dimension or hypothetical parallel universe.

Am I missing something?  Are bread machines the mark of evil in Mormon philosophy?  Is there not one overworked suburban mom in all of Utah who doesn’t have two hours to screw around kneading?  Dammit I know they’ve got electricity.  Why not **&%$% appliances?  (If he’d said, the “stuff we sold you won’t work with a bread machine and don’t even try” that would have been a straightforward and acceptable answer.)

Anyway I just applied the “fuck it… let’s see what happens” approach.  I measured the stuff according to hand kneading recipe and dumped it in the machine.  Twenty minutes later I came back to hear my machine’s motor making irregular sounds.  The bread dough looked just right but the little motor was having trouble mixing the dough?  Maybe it’s thicker than usual recipes?

If my bread machine dies I’m gonna’ be bummed out.  I don’t buy appliances lightly and they’re not cheap and trendy like they used to be.  (Sometimes you can find them used but the supply is dwindling and half the time they’re missing the pan or the little plastic paddle.)

I added more water and it spun freely… making what appeared to be glue.  Is this good or bad?

Then I added some flour and the glue turned into wet cement.  This can’t be good?

Shit!

Right now the machine is on pause while it goes through a “rise” cycle.  I’m not sure where this experiment is going.  Could be good bread.  Could be a blown motor.

Wish me luck.