Yankee Ingenuity

      My mentor, is my mother. 
     She’s a Yankee. Born and raised on Cape Cod. 
     She’s taught me how to do almost everything I know how to do. 
     She’s one of those people that’s good at everything important- folding sheets, running a business, throwing a party, telling a joke, applying mascara, and making you feel like your the center of the universe. 
    She’s known as thrifty with a ‘can-do’ spirit.
    She managed two young children, a difficult husband, and her own business with finesse and integrity.
    She sewed my wedding dress with the skill of a Parisian seamstress and gave chest compressions to a unresponsive goldfish between fittings (he survived). 
     But one of the most impressive solutions she ever had revolved around humidity, heat, and yeast. 
    When I was little, my mother raised bread dough in a furnace closet.
     I have been trying to duplicate that space my entire adult life- the perfect balance, that teases the single-celled fungus to release it’s byproduct (carbon dioxide) after gorging on the satisfaction of sugar.
     It’s actually poetic. 
     And, it’s actually- difficult.
     I’ve tried warm ovens, sunlit tables, the tops of running dryers, high shelves in dark places.
     Until the other day…

Now I’m a 
Yankee Doodle daughter.

A simple plastic container with locking top

Bread Dough Rising.
The interior-
 covered in a layer of aluminum foil and a
simple single outlet-workman’s hanging light
snaked through a hole I drilled into the side.
The bulb strength is 40 watt.
The space heats to a perfect 110 degrees with the top clamped shut.

After the first rise- the dough is punched down,
reformed, and ready for round two.
Stay tuned for recipe and final results!


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