It’s true. And all I wanted to do was bake some bread.
My supper plan for yesterday evening was eggs baked in bread bowls with vegetables. It is a pretty neat, aesthetically pleasing idea, I think. Like soup in a bread bowl but easier. I had recently spotted a recipe for some, and, as I tend to do in cases such as these, where a recipe is really quite superfluous and experimentation provides much more excitement, I planned to just snag the idea and then whip up my own version. And that I did.
As my first move towards the supper goal, I made a recipe and a half of No Knead Bread dough, which I adapted slightly by simply using whole wheat flour instead of white, of course. Instead of having to knead the dough, you just let it sit and rise for hours; therefore, I allowed my dough the the time between the hours of 11 and 4:30 to accomplish its magical task of doubling its bulk.
Around 4:15 I turned on the oven and placed both a stone baking sheet and a glass 9×13-inch pan inside. To achieve the lovely, crusty-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside texture of the bread for which I was aiming, steam is quite helpful, though not necessary. The idea is to heat up a pan, and, once the bread is in the oven, throw a cup of hot water into said – already very hot – pan to create steam. I had previously used this technique with relative success. Anyway, while the oven heated, I shaped the dough into six rolls, which turned out rather a lot large than I had pictured in my mind. Oh well. Once they had re-risen a bit, I placed the first batch of three on the heated stone pan from the oven, slid them onto the top rack, and confidently tossed my boiling hot water into the glass pan below. It shattered. One might even say it exploded. Happily for me, I had stepped back to slam the oven door shut in order to trap the anticipated steam, so I escaped without being impaled. Not so happily, the oven and a good 3/4 of the kitchen floor were littered with bakeware shrapnel of every size.
Determined to bake my bread and finish supper regardless, I removed the largest chunks from the oven, poured hot water into a reliably indestructible metal cake pan, and set the timer. While the bread baked, Mother and I swept and vacuumed the entire kitchen floor, to the the farthest reaches of which bits of glass had somehow traveled. I ended up with six beautiful rolls.
In three of them I baked an egg with garlic, tomatoes, spinach, salt, pepper, and a bit of cheese, much to my satisfaction.
After supper the older of my younger brothers and I dashed off to see Hunger Games – for the record, the worst movie I have seen in my life – so I had no time to clean the oven after it cooled.
Therefore, before I began baking granola and toasting almonds for almond butter, I cleaned the oven. I wiped it down, vacuumed it twice, picked glass out from the grating below it, and then re-vacuumed the floor. I felt a bit silly.
The moral of this story: the temperature difference between a glass pan heated to 450°F and water at 212°F is too great for the structural integrity of a glass pan to be maintained.
Ah well, at least I got supper out of it all.
And a few minutes ago I broke a canning jar. I’m hopeless.