It takes love, patience, and a half gallon of buttermilk

So I tried this recipe a while ago. It became an instant hit. It was an explosion of yumminess in everyone’s mouth. As such they devoured three loaves of the stuff without hesitation. It was a good thing I had three more loaves in reserve.

This was back in late September or early October I believe. I can’t remember the date exactly. I just know the kids loved it and I had better make it again. Pretty please.

I froze the three remaining loaves before Ben and I flew off to London, England on a jet plane. I pulled them back out a couple of months later and they disappeared just as fast.

Pretty good indication that this is good stuff!

The first batch was a learning experience at best. I say that with a smile on my face by the way. I mean it with my sincerest part of my heart.

This was a new recipe and it was one that was intended to be frozen. I am a skeptic to say the least.

These first loaves did not look pretty. I repeat, the first loaves did not look pretty. Fortunately, we avoided absolute disaster and learned from our mistakes or I should say underestimations and the second batch that same night looked better though still not pretty. I am a slow learner, what can I say? I did solve the huge and glaringly obvious problem after the first batch. I ran to Walmart and bought another bread pan for round two. Problem solved!

I did not particularly care if it was pretty. I am the only female in a house full of boys, pretty is not always a concern. Is it functional? Will it take a beating and still be functional? Or in this case, is it edible? Who cares about pretty when it is only going to be on the plate long enough for the teenager to open his mouth? I mean, I am finally beginning to understand. They open their mouths and inhale more than they eat. Pretty was at the back of my mind, honestly. Was it going to taste good? At that point, I was a bit more concerned about taste because the efforts had surely better be worth it!

The fact that those loaves just vanished – VANISHED – was all the evidence that I needed that a day of baking was worth the time, effort, love, and savings. I was going to need some more bread pans! More cinnamon. Maybe buttermilk was going to become a stable flow through my refrigerator after all.

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