Thanksgiving was my mom’s holiday, Sicilian and loved to cook. there are cookbooks with tiny ripped napkin tabs marking recipes she had made or planned on making someday. notes scribbled in the margins.
family or friend, she always made sure you were fed, stuffed, and left with a container filled with leftovers.
this will be the first Thanksgiving without my little Sicilian mom. i knew i would eventually carry on the tradition, but i didn’t realize how soon and how hard it would be. losing her just three months ago and planning a feast like Thanksgiving with twenty plus family members and friends… trying to make some of her signature dishes… is more emotional than stressful at this point.
she always made her Italian bread into rolls for Thanksgiving. so a week ago i made a batch. instead of 1/4 cup of salt, i added 1/4 teaspoon. the rolls were wonky and bland. excited to taste one of the rolls, my husband and i split one minutes out of the oven. after the first bite i knew, not enough salt. ugh. my dad’s face was priceless.
so today was round two.
now making bread takes time, and i wanted to go for a little run today. no plan on how far i was going to go… five, ten, thirteen… three miles. didn’t matter really. i wanted to do both.
my mom’s recipe has a two step rise process. so i figured i could totally make bread and run. no problem.
i used my Kitchen Aid stand mixer to mix and knead the dough. (two and a half pounds of flour is too much for the standard size mixer by the way. don’t recommend that.)
and out the door i went.
5.31 miles later i came home, punched down the dough, downed a peanut butter gel and water and let the dough rise again while heading out for another run.
3.8 miles later… the dough was ready to be shaped and baked.
an egg wash and sprinkle of sesame seeds later…
still needs some work.
hoping my bread will be as good as my little Sicilian mom’s someday. i only have three loaves left of her last batch she made.
i guess i need to schedule another long run soon.