Freshly baked and smelling good...

Cakes I know; bread I do not. But how can you call yourself a baking addict without giving it a whirl? My gran recently passed her (slightly vintage) bread machine on to me and when lazy hazy Sunday rolled around, I seized the opportunity to power it up. 

Picked from the crinkled recipe book that came with it, a hearty currant bread was to be today's experiment. I chucked all the ingredients (bar fruit) into the 'bread bin' - powdered yeast, strong white flour, cubed butter, salt, sugar, water and powdered milk - and pressed GO.


15 minutes passed and, bar a low rumbling sound which may or may not have been my tummy, nothing had happened. But patient chefs make the best cooks and when 30 minutes struck, kneading finally began. The rhythm was mesmerising and through the little viewing window I watched as an untidy collection of ingredients transformed into a bumpy, stretchy dough. Once I'd added the fruit (boozy prunes and mixed peel livened up the mixture) the dough started to colour beautifully.

Four hours later (fast food it is not!), my golden brown loaf had risen and we were all drunk on the smell of fresh bread.  I carved myself a thick slice straight away (isn't bread best straight from the oven?), dowsed it in butter and sunk my teeth into the crispy crust. It was soft, warm, fruity heaven and far lighter than its supermarket counterpart. How can I have waited this long to bake my own?! Next time, I'll add dates, apricots and a sprinkle of cinnamon - and I'll toast it on prongs in the fire, to make it all the more authentic.