I try, as often as possible, to avoid clutching tightly to the consumerism and stuff that comes to tempt us in this life.
If you look in my cupboard, you may find I am bordering on obsessed with glass jars. And if you take a peek in my cupboard (or fridge, depending on the time), it seems I have a love affair with...bread.
Oh, carbohydrates! How I dost love thee! Well, that and tea. Tea gets like 2 cupboards out of my 12ish cupboards because, hello, tea deserves it.
Back to the bread. At this moment, I have a myriad of bread types lounging around in my kitchen and I love each and every one of them. I love the sprouted multigrain, of course. All those yummy sprouters all mixed in to one lovely loaf - oh the toast! I can't have a breakfast without it, slathered in melting and puddling butter (getting my Vitamin A and D!). Then I've got the regular ol' softy organic wheat for sandwiches for the faint of heart. Scootch that loaf over and I've got a crusty boule with olive oil and rosemary cut in half and a hearty wheat version, too. For good measure, I made up a cinnamon-raisin loaf because it sounded so darn good. I did use the dough with the olive oil and rosemary already in it (it was the only one ready for my concoction and whims) because I was so utterly desperate and I was a little horrified at how it might turn out, but it was simply wonderful.
I have a friend who has a reputation for the best bread on earth. I called her today because she has a secret. (Warning: it's about to NOT be a secret anymore...) The secret to her wonderful bread is a little contraption she's got in her kitchen. This little(ish) contraption does a little miracle inside the guts of its dear inventive self. What is this masterpiece of a machine? Why, my dearies, it's not a breadmaker, heavens NO! (Newsflash: real bread makers use OVENS, not plug-in boxes.) This wonderous, heavenly, darling machine is, bum-ba-da-baaaaaa!!! A grain mill!
Yes, like back in the day. She says the smell is like nothing you've ever smelled before. It's not like the rancid flours we get from our organic supermarkets (or the regular ones, either). I know. I'm jealous. Hangin' out with rancid flour from King Arthur and she's got the goods just fluffily pouring out of her kitchen. She probably prances around and has confetti-like parties (with hand-ground flour, of course) because she knows she's going to be eating the most fabulous bread in the whole world. There's probably sunshine pouring in through the windows and everything is slow motion and hey, is she wearing a tiara and a Cinderella dress? Holy cow! Probs. As it lands on her glowing children's eyelashes, they lovingly look up at her, knowing she is providing them with a complete nutritional whole grain and the freshest bread anyone in a ten mile radius has ever had in their life.
Well, or maybe she said it kind of sounds like a vacuum cleaner. But I think picturing the previous scene is what is happening on a nutritional level.
To tell you the truth, I've wanted a grain mill for like two mazillion years now (or five, whatEVER) and I decided that it would be about time for me to put it on the Christmas list. So I had to call her for some input on what works, what's awesome, dimensions, speed, etc. She has the Nutrimill which has a very lovely function (it's electric, by the way) - you can tell it to stop mid-churn. I guess most of them just go on with their loud singing vacuum selves for twenty minutes and if you even threaten to turn it off, it will choke, die and never turn on again. And then it will mock you and make faces while you cry little sobs and beg forgiveness. So, yeah, I don't want that kind.
So I was on this website that sells such lovely creations and then it happened. Remember the sunshine and confetti party previously mentioned? Well, let me just say THAT HAPPENED when I saw the most lovely mills that have ever been made in probably all of history and the world. As you know, I think plastic is the devil. I saw the embodiment of beauty and proper crafstmanship, streamline and clean design in the body of gorgeous wood and stainless steel. YES, hello. True. Not plastic, not paint. Just amazingness.
What, pray tell, sayeth you, is the name of such bewonderment? It's a KoMo mill, designed in Europe, where people run through fields of wheat (at least they do on their youtube video from the manufacturer). Now THAT'S the kind of thing you want. People running through wheat. I do, anyway.
It's a little pricey, but since it has about a 12 year warranty and is expected to last a lifetime, I guess that's the price for true craftsmanship and lovely design using quality materials. Isn't that how it is with anything? High fructose corn syrup costs about $0.11/gallon and honey costs about $35.99/gallon. What would you choose? (Adam, do NOT answer this question.)
Then, m'dearies, I can fill the house with wonderbread. Not the Wonderbread that has circles on it and is filled with polysorbate-80, 60, 40 and 14.2. I mean a bread of wonder, a bread that retains all of what you are supposed to have in actual whole wheat without the rancidy-ness.
Do you make your own bread? Have you seen the KoMo? Were you also struck with love? Pray tell, how many loaves of bread are you keeping in your house at the moment? If you say one, you better bake it up, homies!
And now, it seems it's about time to raise a toast. Out of the toaster. Cheers!
Peace, love and buttery goodness,