Daughter has had a whole 6 week module of bread baking in DT at school (who needs a River Cottage baking day...)
For the most part it has been a gastronomic delight and we have looked forward to her return from school on a Wednesday - soft fluffy rolls, an olive oily garlic and rosemary focaccia, pizza and cinnamonny chelsea buns.
On the last Wednesday of term we waited eagerly for Daughter's return. Part of the ritual involves her serving her wares invitingly and calling us to the dining room table. The hot cross buns with their sugary glaze glistened on the plate deliciously...but were as hard as rocks. I think I bravely chewed my way through a whole bun. Others weren't so gracious.
We're never deterred by baking disasters here, so I thinly sliced all the buns up and baked them on a really slow heat, envisioning delicious raisin biscotti. It was not to be - this process rendered them even less edible. In a fortnight where the main expense for one of us has been extensive dental work, and where another has had a visit to the orthodontist, only the extremely foolhardy would have made an attempt on these jaw-breaking Easter treats.
To the chickens they must go.