Trying to get myself off my incessant TV-watching kick, I've been doing wholesome things like reading, cleaning, and 'rithmetic. Inspired by a lack of edible bread products at the local Shop'n'Save (perhaps I was spoiled by my summer job?), my afternoon activity was to challenge the high-altitude gods and make my own bread. Having read up on some of the effects of 9,000 feet on yeasted doughs, I proceeded as usual. That is, I proceeded without a recipe and only my gut to guide me. It guided me to an uncertain combination of yeast, water, sugar, bread flour, oats, salt, and some pumpkin seeds for good measure.
Any guesses on the outcome? Well, knock me over with a feather, but it worked! My dough rose and I now have a loaf of warm, soft, chewy, fresh, home-made bread.
Over-unders are being accepted on how long the loaf will last, though.
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"It was to be a picnic on a gigantic scale."
Title and description liberally borrowed from Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad.
I knew you could do it! Your roommates don't know how good they will have it:)
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