About 10 days ago, my friend Uncle Larry (no relation, and not a man), gave me a gallon size Ziploc bag of goo with a date on it. With a smile and a straight face she told me it was "Amish Friendship Bread" and it was DELICIOUS! She then forwarded me instructions that went something like this:
- Days 1-7 mush the bag
- Day 7 add flour, sugar, and milk
- Day 8-9 mush the bag
- Day 10-bake it and make mini-starters for all your friends
When she first started talking about this stuff I thought she had to be joking. I just got done reading Bless Your Heart, Tramp by Celia Rivenbark and she had an essay dedicated to this very subject (very funny book, I recommend it). I thought maybe she read the same thing I did and was poking fun at the people that brought in the bags of goo to share with the office. Nope. She really makes it and now she was sharing it with me.
For the last 10 days I have paid more attention to this bag of goo than I have my own children. I have mushed, I have mixed, and I have finally baked. I really tried hard not to be skeeved out that the bag did not need to be chilled. The stuff eventually took over my kitchen.
The smell was intoxicating. I was finally getting excited to see what all the hoopla was about with this stuff. Maybe, just maybe all of this work would payoff to make a foodgasm-worthy bread.
It came time to pull it out of the oven and it looked like a dirty diaper. It was baked around the edges but the middle was all liquid. It flopped. I baked the thing 30 minutes longer than the recipe called and it still wasn't done. That is when I hung up my apron and called it quits.
Friendship bread my ass! Tomorrow I am marching into her office and ask her why she hates me (because why would you do that to a friend???!!). Then I am going to distribute my own bags of goo**evil laugh**
Oh yeah....before I forget....I did Shred this morning. Day 3 is D-O-N-E! Tomorrow should be interesting because will have to cross it off the list around 4:30AM and I have committed to a date with the gym over lunch.