Starring anise
My dad has wanted to make bread pudding for a few weeks now. Last week, when I was buying, he scouted the bread section and found some challah. This week, when he was buying, we could only find a few loaves, all of which had raisins. Dad didn't think they were big loaves and ended up getting a package of sliced brioche. And one of the challah, for us to just plain eat.
He set the brioche loaf on the counter with the bag open for a day, then yesterday morning worked on making it. He'd had a question about if we had vanilla, and the last time I checked we had two or three bottles. I wandered downstairs just in time to see him measuring the flavoring out. Oh, I see you found the vanilla! He looked at me, smiled, and I saw him pour the flavoring into the bowl--and it was clear. Dad, that's not vanilla. What did you do?
My dad's lack of literacy skills strikes again: He saw a small brown bottle and didn't bother to read the label, just assuming it was vanilla. Nope; it was anise. You'd think the smell would've clued him in but he said he couldn't smell it. Mom and I already know his sense of smell has been dulled over the years, but it also wasn't brown, which should've been a second clue. He had found a bottle that said vanilla on it, but it wasn't open. Then open it, dad! You doof. Mom and I told him to put the vanilla in anyway, and I figured it would taste like a Christmas cookie.
It did smell like Christmas while it baked, and thankfully the taste was fine. Phew. In fact, we pretty much polished it off yesterday. There was only a small bit remaining when I left for band so we'll see if it made it through the night. Dad also put in extra bread, because when he's made it in the past it was too watery. He thinks he could've put even more in, but mom and I disagreed. Overall, it was fine. Too many raisins; he could halve the amount. But even with the anise, we'd eat it again.
He set the brioche loaf on the counter with the bag open for a day, then yesterday morning worked on making it. He'd had a question about if we had vanilla, and the last time I checked we had two or three bottles. I wandered downstairs just in time to see him measuring the flavoring out. Oh, I see you found the vanilla! He looked at me, smiled, and I saw him pour the flavoring into the bowl--and it was clear. Dad, that's not vanilla. What did you do?
My dad's lack of literacy skills strikes again: He saw a small brown bottle and didn't bother to read the label, just assuming it was vanilla. Nope; it was anise. You'd think the smell would've clued him in but he said he couldn't smell it. Mom and I already know his sense of smell has been dulled over the years, but it also wasn't brown, which should've been a second clue. He had found a bottle that said vanilla on it, but it wasn't open. Then open it, dad! You doof. Mom and I told him to put the vanilla in anyway, and I figured it would taste like a Christmas cookie.
It did smell like Christmas while it baked, and thankfully the taste was fine. Phew. In fact, we pretty much polished it off yesterday. There was only a small bit remaining when I left for band so we'll see if it made it through the night. Dad also put in extra bread, because when he's made it in the past it was too watery. He thinks he could've put even more in, but mom and I disagreed. Overall, it was fine. Too many raisins; he could halve the amount. But even with the anise, we'd eat it again.