My mom should have been a chef.
Everyone says that, but this is legit.
Growing up, she used to make the best breakfasts. Maybe that’ where I get my love of the meal? One of my favorites was her bread. She mad it the old-fashioned way from a starter that she had to feed. When it baked I could smell it all the way upstairs in my room.
As soon as she removed it from the over, mom brushed salted butter over the top, creating the perfect sweet-and salty crust. The best part was that she brought it to me with coffee as I got ready in the morning… and the next day she used it to make french toast (which she also delivered to me… how spoiled was I?! Thanks, Mom!)
This post is not that bread. My mother’s daughter is too lazy for starters. My bread is baked with pumpkin beer. Strange… but good.
I feel a little less ashamed about my bread-laziness because my mom did taste and love this bread. She even had me send her the recipe the day after I brought it to Thanksgiving! Maybe it was the beer talking?…