Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Breadtastic
This evening I presented myself with two options with which to fill my time.
First: gym. I recently (last month) joined a gym approximately 5 blocks from my apartment and on the way home from work. It was expensive. I've been there 5 times, maybe worked out for a total of 4 hours. Not cost effective - I think I get a better work out walking there than actually working out.
Second: Baking bread - definitely preferable because it meant that I couldgo to the grocery store AND bake. So I did and it was awesome (ish). It worked out perfectly because I had the wonderful unplanned surprise of Ms. Jen, Mexican food and a delicious margarita. Fabulous, not only for the fun-ness of it, but also for the pure practicality of the distraction: the bread had exactly enough time to rise.
My adventure began when I came back from dinner. The pilot light had gone off in my oven; my ancient, and as I learned, terrifyingly flithy oven. Ms. Jen (ironically enough) had taught me the mystery of the stove pilot light; when the apartment smells like gas, the pilot light is most likely off. The stove light was totally on - and this light has nothing to do with the oven.
I had no idea where the oven light was - none at all. All I knew was that it was off and my apartment smelled like a gas station. So, very intelligently, I stuck my head in the oven and searched around. I picked up the broiler and poked around some tubes at the back. Nothing. Moved my stove from the oven - nothing except I knocked out the pilot lights on the stove.
So I went online- googled "Magic Chef" + "pilot light." Apparently, I had the right idea on my first try. The message board I came across advised me to "Stick my head into my oven a la Sylvia Plath." Apparently, the reason it didnt work the first time I did it was that I did not actually try to light it with anything (yes, sometimes I am too smart even for my own ego to handle). Following that piece of anonymous-online-message board wisdom, I found myself with my head stuck in an old oven, reeking of gas, with a lit match trying desparately to get some sort of a flame.
Somehow I survived, and I am happy to report that the bread is delicious. Yum and goodnight.
Ciao,
First: gym. I recently (last month) joined a gym approximately 5 blocks from my apartment and on the way home from work. It was expensive. I've been there 5 times, maybe worked out for a total of 4 hours. Not cost effective - I think I get a better work out walking there than actually working out.
Second: Baking bread - definitely preferable because it meant that I couldgo to the grocery store AND bake. So I did and it was awesome (ish). It worked out perfectly because I had the wonderful unplanned surprise of Ms. Jen, Mexican food and a delicious margarita. Fabulous, not only for the fun-ness of it, but also for the pure practicality of the distraction: the bread had exactly enough time to rise.
My adventure began when I came back from dinner. The pilot light had gone off in my oven; my ancient, and as I learned, terrifyingly flithy oven. Ms. Jen (ironically enough) had taught me the mystery of the stove pilot light; when the apartment smells like gas, the pilot light is most likely off. The stove light was totally on - and this light has nothing to do with the oven.
I had no idea where the oven light was - none at all. All I knew was that it was off and my apartment smelled like a gas station. So, very intelligently, I stuck my head in the oven and searched around. I picked up the broiler and poked around some tubes at the back. Nothing. Moved my stove from the oven - nothing except I knocked out the pilot lights on the stove.
So I went online- googled "Magic Chef" + "pilot light." Apparently, I had the right idea on my first try. The message board I came across advised me to "Stick my head into my oven a la Sylvia Plath." Apparently, the reason it didnt work the first time I did it was that I did not actually try to light it with anything (yes, sometimes I am too smart even for my own ego to handle). Following that piece of anonymous-online-message board wisdom, I found myself with my head stuck in an old oven, reeking of gas, with a lit match trying desparately to get some sort of a flame.
Somehow I survived, and I am happy to report that the bread is delicious. Yum and goodnight.
Ciao,
E 12:04 AM