“The Two-Day Bread That Could (But Didn’t)”

The Great Bread Debacle: Two Days, One Hockey Puck

I decided to make bread with yeast. How hard could it be? Flour, water, yeast, time — right? Oh, my sweet, naive self.

 

It took two days. Two. Whole. Days. Somewhere in there, I’m pretty sure the yeast gave up and retired. The dough was over-proved, under-proved, over-cooked, and possibly cursed. The crust was beautiful — golden brown, crisp, and promising. But oh, don’t let it fool you. That crust could have shattered a window.

When I finally tried to cut into it, I thought, “Maybe I need a sharper knife.” Nope. What I needed was a chainsaw. The bread fought back — and won. It was like slicing through a hockey puck wearing a baguette disguise.

And the inside? Dense. Stodgy. It's like wet cement with aspirations. Yet, it tasted… fine. Not great, but edible — if you closed your eyes and focused on the butter

After two days of effort and one arm workout later, I realized something profound: bread should not take longer to make than to eat. But hey, the crust was gorgeous, and that counts for something, right?

So yes, my loaf was flat, hard, and slightly traumatic — but I’m definitely going to try again. Because as they say, practice makes perfect… or at least, maybe next time it’ll be more “bread and less weapon.”

Where I Went Wrong (AKA: The Autopsy Report)

1. Yeast Drama:
I either didn’t give the yeast enough love (too cold) or gave it too much time to think about its life choices (over-proved). Yeast is basically a diva — it needs warmth, not neglect.

Fix it: Treat your yeast like a spa guest — cozy temperature, gentle stirring, and just enough time to relax, not retire.

2. The Over-Proving Olympics:
I let the dough rise so long it may have achieved sentience. Over-proved dough collapses in protest when you bake it.

Fix it: Give your dough a poke. If it springs back slowly, it’s ready. If it stares at you blankly and sighs, it’s gone too far.

3. The Oven Inferno:
I suspect my oven was auditioning for “Hell’s Kitchen.” The outside crisped up while the inside cried for help.

Fix it: Use a thermometer. Ovens lie. They’re sneaky like that.

4. The Patience Problem:

Bread takes time, yes — but two days? That’s not baking, that’s a long-distance relationship.

Fix it: Plan ahead, but don’t overthink it. Bread wants attention, not obsession. (Kind of like cats.)

Bonus Recipe: How to Make Your Very Own Bread-Shaped Brick

Ingredients:

• 3 cups of ambition

• 1 packet of yeast (preferably confused)

• 2 days of your life you’ll never get back

• A sprinkle of false confidence

• One oven that runs either way too hot or barely warm

Instructions:

1. Mix everything together while humming confidently.

2. Let it rise until you’re no longer sure if it’s alive or evolving into something else.

3. Poke it, prod it, overthink it — then bake it for as long as your soul can handle.

4. Remove from the oven and admire the beautiful crust that hides your failure.

5. Attempt to cut it. Regret every decision that led you here.

6. Serve with butter, laughter, and a promise to “try again tomorrow.”

With Love,

Melissa