Peaches O Malley
08-14-2006, 08:55 PM
Enjoy!
Grandmother’s Cinnamon Bread
Batter:
2 eggs
1 1/2 c white sugar
2 c flour
1 c milk
2 tsp vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 c shortening
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
Bottle of rum (optional, but recommended)
Cinnamon mix:
2 Tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
Start by divvying up the batter ingredients into two piles: dry stuff and stuff that’s not dry. If you’re not sure what’s dry and what’s not, you might want to turn in your college degree. Go ahead and take a swig of rum. If you’re really anal, mix the dry stuff in one bowl and the not-dry stuff in another bowl, then oh-so-carefully pour the not-dry stuff into the dry stuff bowl little by little, mixing vigorously until everything’s the same gooey consistency. (Or is it the other way around—you mix the dry stuff into the wet stuff until it’s gooey—hell, I don’t remember). Anyway, if you’re not anal, just throw all that crap in the same bowl and mix until wet. “Eww, why vinegar?” you ask. Well, Great-Grandma’s recipe called for sour milk, and we all know how sour milk and rum go together, so we’re using the more palatable vinegar and milk as a substitution. Be careful with the eggs; you have to take a shot of rum for every one you break. Hey, did you know vanilla extract is 70 proof? And now you’re ready to pour the batter into your pre-greased and battered bread pans. Two big ones or three little ones. (Pre-greased and battered means at some point in time prior to now, you have smeared Crisco all over the inside of the pans and then thrown some flour in there and shook it all around). You might need some more rum at this point. Fill the pans about half way—with BATTER, not rum, you moron—then sprinkle half of the cinnamon mix (what, you didn’t mix it already?), then pour in the other half of batter, then sprinkle on the other half of cinnamon mix. Don’t you just love all this math? Kind of makes you want to curl up with a hot toddy and call it a day. Now you can go ahead and put the pans in the oven. Crap, I forgot to tell you to preheat the oven to 350. Oh well, if you had read the directions first you would know this by now. Be careful not to slosh the mixture over the sides of the pans. (For some reason at this point my kitchen always starts spinning. Not sure why). Leave those bad boys in there for a good forty minutes or so. May take longer, but I tend to forget about them until the fire alarm goes off. Lick the bowl while you’re waiting and finish off what’s left in the bottle. If you’re lucky, they’ll rise, like magic, into something that resembles bread and is suitable for bringing to a potluck. If not, just eat the damn things yourself.
Grandmother’s Cinnamon Bread
Batter:
2 eggs
1 1/2 c white sugar
2 c flour
1 c milk
2 tsp vinegar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 c shortening
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
Bottle of rum (optional, but recommended)
Cinnamon mix:
2 Tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
Start by divvying up the batter ingredients into two piles: dry stuff and stuff that’s not dry. If you’re not sure what’s dry and what’s not, you might want to turn in your college degree. Go ahead and take a swig of rum. If you’re really anal, mix the dry stuff in one bowl and the not-dry stuff in another bowl, then oh-so-carefully pour the not-dry stuff into the dry stuff bowl little by little, mixing vigorously until everything’s the same gooey consistency. (Or is it the other way around—you mix the dry stuff into the wet stuff until it’s gooey—hell, I don’t remember). Anyway, if you’re not anal, just throw all that crap in the same bowl and mix until wet. “Eww, why vinegar?” you ask. Well, Great-Grandma’s recipe called for sour milk, and we all know how sour milk and rum go together, so we’re using the more palatable vinegar and milk as a substitution. Be careful with the eggs; you have to take a shot of rum for every one you break. Hey, did you know vanilla extract is 70 proof? And now you’re ready to pour the batter into your pre-greased and battered bread pans. Two big ones or three little ones. (Pre-greased and battered means at some point in time prior to now, you have smeared Crisco all over the inside of the pans and then thrown some flour in there and shook it all around). You might need some more rum at this point. Fill the pans about half way—with BATTER, not rum, you moron—then sprinkle half of the cinnamon mix (what, you didn’t mix it already?), then pour in the other half of batter, then sprinkle on the other half of cinnamon mix. Don’t you just love all this math? Kind of makes you want to curl up with a hot toddy and call it a day. Now you can go ahead and put the pans in the oven. Crap, I forgot to tell you to preheat the oven to 350. Oh well, if you had read the directions first you would know this by now. Be careful not to slosh the mixture over the sides of the pans. (For some reason at this point my kitchen always starts spinning. Not sure why). Leave those bad boys in there for a good forty minutes or so. May take longer, but I tend to forget about them until the fire alarm goes off. Lick the bowl while you’re waiting and finish off what’s left in the bottle. If you’re lucky, they’ll rise, like magic, into something that resembles bread and is suitable for bringing to a potluck. If not, just eat the damn things yourself.