Mrs. Curmudgeon cooks well. It’s a thing of beauty and a pleasure to watch. Her stuff is delicious. It’s an art. She’s creative. She’s got tons of recipes and she’s literally never followed one all the way through. “I was out of ingredient X so I substituted Y, plus I decided to use a little more ingredient Z for an extra bit of flavor.”
I’m a nerd and just don’t do that. If the recipe calls for eye of newt then it damn well needs eye of newt. I’ll get eye of newt or I’ll make something else.
Mrs. Curmudgeon has this unfathomable ability to recite a list of ingredients and imagine how delicious it’ll be. That ability is not wired into my brain. She’ll say something like this: “It has arugula, and beets, and red wine, and asparagus, and a savory compote. Isn’t that great?” What I hear is random nouns in no logical order: “It has motor oil, and tree bark, and Dawn dishwashing soap. Isn’t that great?”
Don’t blame me, I’m a guy. I don’t cook. I manufacture food.
As much as the finer sex (and men that are good cooks) laugh, my way is a fine way to go. My cooking is neither morally inferior nor spiritually bereft. Food I cook is not bad. It’s perfectly adequate. It’s reasonably good. Sometimes it’s excellent, but excellence is never my goal.
Because I use no creativity at all, my dishes are completely reproducible. I don’t wonder how this new thing will taste because I made it once, figured it out, and haven’t changed a fucking thing. I don’t usually burn shit. If it’s baked it’s baked for the right time because I set a fucking timer. The food I make tastes about the same if I prepare it in our kitchen or cook on a fire of cut up pallets in a desolate swamp.
I follow recipes like they’re laws of nature. I measure ingredients like they’re reagents. And I consider the entire process holistically; cooking means gathering ingredients (even if you have to kill something), preparing the food, eating it, and washing the dishes.
Our kitchen is where a beautiful unicorn shares space with a T-800. If I could somehow involve my 3d Printer I’d be approaching T-1000. Poor suffering Mrs. Curmudgeon.
Anyway, I like making bread. I can make bread by hand. I have a grain mill and I can make my own flour too. I can literally start with a bag of wheat kernels and end with a sandwich. But, I’m pretty lazy so I almost always use a bread maker.
I don’t want to hear any shit. My bread is wholesome, tastes good, and cheaper than store bought. Just because I didn’t spend an hour kneading dough doesn’t mean the food is crap. I’m not in it for the atmosphere and I’m happy to use whatever level of technology is most efficient at the moment. You can boil water on a fire or use a microwave; neither the water nor the consumer can taste where the BTUs came from.
Anyway I literally wore out my third bread maker and my “backup” bread maker (#2) just wouldn’t go. So I bought a new one.
The new machine has a recipe book that was written for space aliens, or perhaps Europeans. I expected to scoop something like 3 cups of flour. The recipe that came with the machine calls for unholy measures like 7/8th of a cup and/or grams. (Don’t run to the comments and get all “well actually”. I know about volume versus mass. This ain’t my first rodeo.) The book is so goofy I wonder if it was translated? Maybe written by AI?
I ran a few loaves and they came out fine. So I knew the machine was working right. Then I set out to make “milk bread”. Why? Because there was milk in the fridge and I didn’t want it to go to waste. That’s what happens when you’re into “manufacture” rather than “art”.
I followed the recipe with the care one would use for defusing a land mine. It wanted so many grams of this and a tablespoon of that and by God that’s what I did. The machine even has “menu 9: milky bread”. I was instructed to choose that option. I did.
The bread came out looking like a train wreck! (I didn’t think to take any photos. I wish I had.)
I was pissed.
But I cut it open and ate some. Big surprise, it was good! Way better than I expected. The next day Mrs. Curmudgeon cut the rest up and made French Toast. Holy spacebats! It was awesome. If you have never had French Toast made from hand cut milk bread slathered with real maple syrup then you’re missing out.
I decided to figure out how to make milk bread that doesn’t look like a dumpster fire. I found some nice person who had the exact same machine as the one I own and who was using the exact same recipe as I’d tried. She got the exact same results I did. (Forward to 2:50 to see bread that looks weird but tastes good.)
My initial theory was that I’d fucked up. That theory didn’t seem to be the case. The recipe in the booklet is probably shit. So I searched for a milk bread recipe and found one.
Now I was listening to someone who sounded like an eleven year old girl. This throws up red flags but then again who am I to think a kid can’t make bread? The kid is probably a fucking genius. I copied all the ingredients from infernal video format to scribbled notes and was all set to go.
But then there was a problem. The kid used the “bread dough” setting, then added ingredients which had been withheld at the beginning of the process, then switched to a different setting.
Not cool! The reason I have a bread machine is to set it and forget it. Plus her machine was different than mine.
So I searched again and got my final set of YouTube instructions.
Hot damn! This lady looks like someone’s grandma. She’s got a southern accent and the exact same machine I own. Perfect.
She went into real detail, in particular pointing out that the pamphlet with the machine had sketchy recipe. She also pointed out that bread is baked based on “feel” and not perfect ingredient measurement. This is an absolutely true fact which I chose to disregard.
Just like the kid, she ran for a while on “dough” then reset the machine to “milk bread”. Message received! If two people did the same approach the logic of an LLM (and most of society) is to accept the consensus opinion. For something irrelevant like bread I can go with it
Here’s what I did:
- I measured stuff following the kid’s recipe. I could have followed the grandma’s recipe but I was getting sick of going back and forth in video and writing shit down.
- I held back the unsalted butter. The kid had done that. Why not?
- I ran the “dough setting” just like both of them had. I wasn’t clear how long to let it go so I just ran it the whole cycle (something like 20 minutes).
- I had no idea when to add the butter; which the kid had withheld for 15 minutes and the grandma hadn’t mentioned. About 6 minutes in I said “fuck it” and dumped it in the machine. It seemed to work.
- The dough looked great. When grandma switched from “dough” to “milk bread” she pressed some buttons for “reserve” to give it a 15 minute break. I fucked up and paused. About 20 minutes later I figured out my mistake. I said “fuck it” again, reset everything, launched the milk bread routine, and assumed I’d ruined everything.
- Grandma removes the bread paddle after ferment 3. That’s a great idea. I took a nap instead. (Napping while something else cooks is precisely why I have a bread machine.)
- It came out PERFECT.
Measuring stuff:

Success:


















