my 15 seconds of fame…errrr…24 hrs…errr…

a while back, i posted some photos of my new and adorable nephew.  partly because i listed the photos in gallery format, and partly (okay, mainly) because my brother-in-law and his wife are exceedingly popular globetrotting people (lovely and generous too, i might add), my blog stats spiked in mid february to new and astronomical heights.  so excessively loved are these milleys, that their friends and other fam’s views rocketted my blog (for a day) to the “Top Blogs: Growing Blogs” page of WordPress…a page i had, in fact, never even seen, until today, when, in a fit of procrastination, i took a closer look at my stats.  it bears repeating, at this point, that fame is not why i do this: it’s actually overwhelming self-interest and a healthy dose of narcissistic self-involvement.  nevertheless, it’s kind of fun to be popular.  for a day.  for showcasing other, more popular people.  oh wait, that’s what most of the top blogs are. celebrity/news watch type ones. maybe i could start a “Tyler and Emma Watch” blog, chronicling their daily life for all their devoted fans all over the world…..:)

all the things we love

here in milleyville!  making bread, making silly timelapse movies,  taking far too many photos of fresh flowers, eating jam!  (thanks, C. for the lovely “live” blog comment!  am very very touched)

thanks again for all the lovely comments…if you’re in the neighbourhood, please feel free to stop by for some bread and jam.

Question o’ the day:  What is your favourite kind of spread for bread?

New and Old Obsessions

I’ve successfully come through my “Need-to-Make-Perfect-Sugar-Cookies” phase, and am only slightly wiser as to the perfect cookie.  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I’ve sampled so much dough and cookie and icing that I do not want to see, let alone taste, any cookies of that kind for quite awhile.

However, I am onto a new obsession: making my own bread.  Now, I have done this before.  I went through a phase in my teenage years where i would devote hours to making the breads listed in my mom’s Betty Crocker cookbook.  A month or so passed, and in the capriciousness of youth i gave it up, and it wasn’t until two years ago that i began to work with rising dough again.  First, I made cinnamon buns.  Then came pizza dough (one of the best and easiest recipes.  EVER. am willing to share if anyone wants it).  And, sometime last week, I decided that the time had come for bread to make a comeback.

Before I describe the recipe, or method, or results, I should say that freshly baked bread has a special significance for me.  It is one of my strongest sensory memories from childhood visits to my grandparents’.  My grandma, a Great Depression survivor, always baked it in re-purposed coffee cans, which made for buttery half-moons of toast every morning.  It was glorious stuff.   She made both white and wholewheat–perhaps the only truly tasty wholewheat bread I have ever eaten–in copious quantities.   I know for a fact that I was often (rightly) cut off after several slices liberally smothered in fresh blackberry jam (her little church hosted a Blackberry Festival every August).  Even as a child, I knew it was a special treat to be eating homemade bread, and marveled at her skill.  I remember looking at her soft, wrinkled fingers, unable to reconcile how such small, timeworn hands could be so strong, so skilled.

Later, I was to watch my aunt carry on the tradition, smacking the yeast-laden mass against the countertop–WHAP!–and kneading it with the heels of both hands.  I tried then, when I was young, but within two minutes I was panting, cramped hands clenched into the folds of rising dough, completely frustrated.  So, like I said, when I did make dough, I stuck to the fancy, the smaller and more ornate sweet breads, convinced I would never have the patience or the strength to tackle the basic loaf of country white bread.

My grandma is lying in a hospital bed as I write this, slipping away into oblivion after many turbulent years struggling to best the unbeatable–Alzheimer’s.  She doesn’t remember me, or my sister, or even my mom, now.  My aunt says she’s less agitated than she was, more peaceful.  I like to think she’s stopped trying to gather all the pearls of memory back onto their broken string.  which is good.  i hope.  My memories of the Time Before Alzheimer’s are getting misty, too, despite my best efforts.  But when images of eating toast in my grandma’s old kitchen started haunting me a few days ago, i began to think about trying the whole breadmaking thing one more time.

I called my aunt last night for my grandma’s recipe.  It’s the one from the side of Rogers flour.  I had to laugh out loud, as i have always romanticized its connection to my grandma, and to my great-grandma, and to all those rock solid farm ladies from whom I am descended.  Still, it’s a local recipe, and clearly a good one.  I found it online and printed it out.  I bought a proper bread mixing bowl (if you’ve never seen one, they’re stainless steel.  and huge. and could easily conceal a cat underneath them).  I waited for the yeast to foam.  I mixed.  I stirred.  I doled out 9 1/2 cups(!) of flour.  Then i kneaded.  and kneaded. and kneaded.  i imagined my grandma, in her bed, her thoughts like a pebble rippling a still pool.  I imagined her old kitchen.  I imagined my grandpa playing peek-a-boo with the cereal boxes.  lots of laughter.  lots of jam.  and you know what?  it worked.  my bread is beautiful.   A golden-crusted shell with a spongy smooth interior just waiting to be slathered in butter.

I could expend another hour trying to encapsulate the moment’s significance with some clever or beautifully apt metaphor, but I’ve trespassed on your kindness long enough.  And truthfully, any sentiment I could commit to writing just wouldn’t do justice to all the memory and beauty. 

I’d rather just share the pictures of my bread.

Very Belatedly

so, apparently youtube hates me.  i’ve tried for 2 (!!!!) days to put up this very short timelapse of our valentine’s day photo shoot.  which, by the way, was meant to generate a photo to send to all of our friends and family.  but, 90 some photos later, i don’t think i have a single one where edmund, agatha, and their lovely cousin are  all looking at the camera.

but, in any case, happy valentine’s!

As requested…

a gallery of photos of my newest nephew, at his long-awaited homecoming:

New for Spring: Adelaide pinny

Some snapshots from this morning.  so excited that it fits!  orders, anyone?  (of course, having an adorable and photogenic model never hurts

Why i’m glad to own a portrait lens

Here are some photos of  lovely daffodils (thank you, Miranda, for brightening my day).  These are for all of us who eagerly await spring weather.

Question o’ the day: what is your favourite spring flower?

debbie gets dressed…and other minor happenings

i don’t know if you remember, but “Debbie” is the somewhat uninspired name i’ve given to my dressform.  currently, rather than her usual dressing gown, she is sporting the beginnings of a shirt that i am making for my sewing class.  it’s magenta silk, as you will see, and has these tricky pin tucks along the bodice.  here’s hoping that the collar, sleeves and buttonhole placket go in without major incident.

I’ll keep you posted of its progress.

only one other thing, really.  we were working on agatha’s “Student of the Week” poster, and decided to make a collage of images, in case we needed them for the poster.  here’s what picasa did for us.  isn’t the effect cool?

How about you? I have a random Question o’ the day:  if you were a beverage, what beverage would you be?

(i’d like to think i’d be something intoxicating, i.e, alcoholic in nature, but alas, i think i’m a bit more like pink grapefruit juice–intense colour, sweet at first, but with a bitter bite to follow.)