I Don't Bake Part Deux

I am not a good cook, but I try my damnedest. As I stated before, I seriously started trying to cook last year while the resident chef of the family was gone. Pinterest has really helped me a lot with trying new things and figuring out what works and what doesn't.

In an effort to control my diet and cutting out processed food, I began searching for ways to make dietary staples, which for this house includes bread.

I stumbled upon this little beauty one afternoon:

The murderous crusty bread. 

The pin said, "I hear this is insanely easy - it literally took 2 minutes to stir together the dough - let it sit overnight and then bake. It is beyond easy and so delicious. Nice and crusty on the outside and chewy on the inside. I cannot say enough. I think I'm going to have to start making this on the daily."

 Easy? Quick? Sold.

So I stirred up the ingredients and waited the FULL 14 hours it needed to proof. Again, patience is not a virtue, as evidenced in my prior post "I Don't Bake."

The original recipe creator bakes this "simple" bread in her Le Creuset. Being the excellent cook that I am, I'm not about to drop over a grand on a baking dish. I was encouraged by the FAQ section that stated anything tolerant of high heat, like the inset of a Crock-Pot will work. Score! I got married once...I have one of those!

So while I waited for my oven to preheat to 450 degrees, I prepped my dough.

Doesn't exactly look like the picture...but that's okay!

I shoved my inset into the stove, and walked away. I sat on my couch watching some Daria, thinking, "Man, I can't believe I've never done this before...it's so easy!" And that's when my Crock-Pot silently died, unbeknownst to me.

I skipped my happy little ass back into the kitchen, opened the stove, and stared in horror at the scene before me.

Crock-Pot
2009 - 2012
We hardly knew ye... 

As with any life or death situation, I panicked. "Oh no!" I shouted. My dear, loving husband came rushing into the kitchen, prepared to save me from whatever peril one may encounter in the kitchen.

He took one look at me, then the carnage, and promptly lost it. It's entirely possible he choked on his own laughter. This is quickly overcome by planning how we can fix the situation...or so I thought. A minute later, he's clutching his phone, ready to share the catastrophe with anyone possessing a Facebook account.

I leave the kitchen, dejected. I wish I could say this was the first time I exposed something to heat that shouldn't have been, but it's not. However, that's a tale for a different day...possibly tomorrow when my ego can take it.

I walk back into the kitchen to salvage the bread, because I didn't wait 14 hours to walk away empty handed, damnit, only to find my dear, loving husband put the icing on the cake:

Mark's tricks of the trade.

And also this, for those who have heard the story:

As for the bread, here is the final product:

For what's left of my pride, I'm going to pretend it looks like the picture.

And as far as taste, it's pretty good, as confirmed by Mark, but then again, he lies to spare my feelings. Sometimes...