Another bust!

Homemade bread was always one of life's mysteries to me. Growing up, the closest encounter I had to fresh baked bread was driving past The Rainbow Bread factory off the 980. Somewhat pathetic, but it would always smell so wonderful, especially in the early evening hours. On Thanksgiving, my mom would go all out and buy the ready to bake rolls, which were always a treat for us. The point is, we were not really a bread making family.

For our first Thanksgiving, Andrew and I were on our own and decided it would be fun if we did the whole Thanksgiving spread. We each had requests of what we wanted to have for dinner and one of Andrew's was homemade rolls. Since I was tackling my first turkey (stuffing and all), Andrew was in charge of the home made rolls. His rolls turned out beautifully. So light and fluffy.

It seemed easy enough, so a little while later, I started a series of sad attempts at making homemade rolls. I have tried four times and each time time was a slight variation on disaster. Now, four times may not sound like I've given it much effort, but I can assure you that each attempt has been given calculated concentration and the old college try on my part. At first, I thought maybe it was our apartment that was the problem, (our first apartment was quite cold and damp and I came to the conclusion this is why my rolls would not rise). After all, I followed the recipe to a T. Considering that our new apartment is not cold or damp, I was excited that somewhere down the line I could finally make rolls that would rise. However, this past weekend I attempted making rolls again with the same unfruitful result, flat as pancakes. Quite the opposite of light and fluffy. Here are some pics to prove it. Unless anyone has some tips that will solve all my bread making problems , I think I'm about to throw in the kitchen towel. I'll just have to make sure I drive my kids by a bread factory so they know how wonderful the smell of freshly made bread is.