One Year and Protestant Selfish Bread

Sunday marked our one year anniversary. I’d been reminded of it several times by my mother, mother in law, and friends; ironically, they did it because I kept forgetting. In our little family, July 1 is a bigger deal than our birthday weekend (we have birthdays one day apart) and now our anniversary, because it marks a new year in residency. Residency has this uncanny ability to erase the significance of major holidays, and give new, profound meaning to a simple day off. For my husband, a morning to sleep in is anticipated like Christmas Day, while I dread Valentines Day, because it’s a reminder that I will be alone when most people are with their spouses. Now stop it right there- I don’t want your pity. If you feel sorry for me, all I ask is for you to take a Gas-Ex the next time you want rush to the ER with belly pain, and see if that helps first. When my husband gets called in after a 14 hour day for a consult, I usually call after him, “Maybe it’s just gas…” as he heads for the door.

Back to our anniversary. This Sunday was big deal, if only because we finally reclaimed the space in our freezer that our wedding cake had taken up the past year. I’ve heard that our wedding cake was phenomenal. I don’t really remember what it tasted like, last September 15. My husband hates cake; he said he’ll just taste it for the sake of tradition and then we can throw the rest of it out (which is exactly what we did). I ate most if it, since I happen to like cake and I don’t get it much anymore. One of my inner motivations to have a child (eventually) is so I can start baking for more than just myself. Willis doesn’t count; the idea of giving him sugar makes me grimace (he’s currently staring at me from across the room- he just woke up from a nap, and his lip is smushed halfway up his face, like he’s smirking at me).

Today is my off day from work, and I finally got around to doing something that I’ve wanted to do since I’ve moved to Memphis: make Amish Friendship Bread. I knew that I needed a starter, which I was loathing, or I needed to find someone that had one.

You would think I’d have bread starters coming out my ears because I work at a school. Not so. I did learn the other day that a pinch of ginger alleviates gas from red beans and rice (and you can’t even taste the ginger, can you BELIEVE it???), but no one had a starter to share. This, along with my visions of a bag of yeast and flour growing like “The Blob” in my kitchen, left me in a quandry.

Enter, stage left, my friend Pinterest. We’ve had a couple of disagreements in the past few months, involving a rather large rainbow cake, but we’ve reconciled through our discussions on plaid and fall fashion so I thought I would ask her.

She gave me a delightful cheater recipe that didn’t involve a starter. Eureka! I mixed it up this afternoon and have just finished baking my second of the two loaves the recipe makes. I gleefully dubbed the recipe “Amish Friendship Bread for Those Who are Selfish or Have No Friends in Memphis with a Starter and Don’t Plan on Sharing Any of It Because Pilates Videos Should Take Care of the Extra Carbs”.

I’ve shortened the name to “Protestant Selfish Bread” for the sake of convenience.

It’s only now, after I’ve taken a look at this bread in my kitchen, that I’ve realized that my husband doesn’t like bread, and my in laws are now off gluten. So I really will have to eat all of it myself. However, I haven’t brought anything to share at the lunch table yet, and I probably should plant my flag on the communal food mountain with the rest of my coworkers and take some tomorrow. I’m still keeping the name, though.

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