So I decided to have another go…
I used the same recipe in this attempt. The main thing I did differently was to not add too much water at the start. I followed the recipe to the letter, mixing the ingredients making an exceedingly dry dough. ‘Aha’ I said to the passing cat who looked confused, slumped down and proceeded to clean his gentleman’s region.
‘Horatio’ I said (for that is his name) ‘can’t you see I’m about to take no knead bread glory and you’re sat there performing what can only be described as self-fellatio’. He looked at me levelly, his expression seemed to suggest that once he’s figured out how to open click-lock cat food box my time on this goodly frame will be cut short.
He stood and ambled off, pausing by the stairs to look back at me; silently reiterating the unspoken threat.
‘Aha’ I now repeated to a thankfully empty room ‘this’ll work a treat’. I dutifully left the bowl of dough to work its magic relaxed with a bottle of Chang and then went to bed.
The next morning I was slightly less enthusiastic than previously. In part, I was trepidatious of another failure but also of another telling off. Also, Chang is really bad for the noggin in the morning.
Somewhat gingerly I headed down to the kitchen and was met by the sight of the cats trying to use a team of enslaved geckos and a rudimentary block and pulley system made out of Chang bottle caps and a rolled tea-towel to open the cat food box. Yumi (the other cat) had a little yellow hard hat on whilst Horatio was consulting a blueprint. They looked at me and then shooed the gecko slaves away before nonchalantly proceeding to clean their nether regions.
I resolved that advanced cat physics and remarkable gecko enslavement would have to wait – I was here to make bread.
The dough had risen but again was quite wet. This time, however, I was prepared. I laid out some greaseproof paper. floured it and dropped the wet mass onto it. It stilled spilled, lava-like, across my board and work surface but I picked up the greaseproof paper and dumped the whole lot into the hot cast iron pan.
Oh, crushing despair had hit once again. Whilst not quite as lumpen and flat as the first go it was still something that could be used as a basic method of home construction. Discus bread (as I’ve now termed it) was solid and definitely lacking in flavour. Well, any nice flavour.
And on, the laughing of the four-year-old continued, unabated.
To be continued in…The No Knead Bread Saga: Part 3 – Nemesis