Note: This is a complicated recipe. Full preparation may take decades. Patience is required.
Mix three scant cups of child abuse with a double handful of art, literature, and music. Add a tablespoon each cumin, garlic, salt, pepper. Omit sugar. This recipe does not call for sweetening.
Add thousands of library books, plus hundreds of hours deep in the stacks of the New York public library. Add orange juice until a soft batter is formed. Mix gently but thoroughly until you can no longer tell fact from fiction. Cover and refrigerate for a decade or so.
Add a handful of excellent LSD, half a pound of finely ground marijuana to 20 years of education and a bachelor’s degree. Include one Steinway grand piano, an erudite husband, a bunch of wonderful, loving and supportive friends, one crazy college radio station and an old typewriter with glass sides.
NOTE: Keep track of the future husband over there (the quiet, handsome one). You’ll need him later.
Add yeast. Knead several times. Cover, then put aside in a warm place to rise. Add a baby, catastrophic medical bills, a broken spine, a husband with kidney cancer and a heart attack. For spice, use two mortgages, car payments and a career in publishing. Don’t forget a couple of fantastic women friends.
Put all the ingredients in a big greased bowl and knead until smooth. Put aside for a separate rising. Pack everything and move it to the city of Jerusalem. That’s pretty far away, so pack carefully.
Now, add a stupid, abusive man, a couple of confused stepchildren, the aforementioned son, 60 hour work weeks and a heaping dose of new technology. Put them to cook in a city full of magic and ghosts of ages past. Add a rounded tablespoon of mysticism, and a few ancient artifacts.
Remove Mother and aunt, reserving enough cash to get back to the U.S.A. Don’t forget the rest of the recipe! It’s still rising. Check your fridge.
Defrost future husband. Warm to room temperature, then heat up with lots of cuddling, hugs, encouragement and faith. Grab that risen dough from refrigerator. Knead thoroughly. Build a teepee, then separate batter into four pieces.
Braid each loaf and bake at 400 degrees until each loaf is golden, suitable for a feast.
Serving Suggestions:
Sprinkle with dog hair and oak pollen, nest in a new career and top with a dollop of joy.
Ignore spinal calcification (it’ll still taste great, but you’ll have to eat sitting down). Be sure to remove two large malignant breasts (they can ruin the feast) while retaining a spicy sense of humor. Serve warm.
Categories: #Recipes, Humor, Jerusalem, Life, Myths and Fables, Personal
Complicated recipes make the best persons.
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Sometimes 🙂
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In this instance then. 😛
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😀
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This is way too cool. Love it.
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Thanks 🙂
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Fascinating, empowering, and beautifully written. 🙂
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Thank you, blush.
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What a wonderful recipe=- turned out great in my opinion. Pure genius Marilyn- you are so clever, what a pleasure to read 🙂
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Thank you. I decided to see if I could summarize my life as a bread recipe. Sort of 🙂
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What a delightful recipe… and such a lovely photo of the final product! ❤
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We were a little bit younger and thinner then. A little bit 🙂
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What everyone else said. Plus, “You’ve got great hair.”
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Except where you can see my pink scalp showing through 🙂
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Oy. :::mock sternly::: Learn to take a compliment, woman! 🙂
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Funny. That is EXACTLY what Garry keeps saying. Hmm. Maybe I should rethink this.
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Yeah at least you’ve got hair….
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I’m a girl. DNA is on my side.
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This was charming as well as entertaining Marilyn.
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Thanks, Bob!
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In what cookbook did you find this one?
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The Life Cookbook 🙂
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OK who is the guy wearing the kilt? I can almost see you typing this, you must have been smiling a lot. Great post Marilyn, should be at freshly pressed…but I assume they are sleeping as so often. “Sprinkle with doghair” was the icing on the cake. Such an honor to have met you.
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I hate to ruin your illusion, but that’s Uncle Louis — was married to my Aunt Pearl — and that’s not a kilt, just badly fitted Bermuda shorts. Sprinkle THAT with dog hair!
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ok wait a minute I get my glasses
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Alright…found glasses…put them on…made picture bigger. Guess what? It still looks like a kilt LOL. Badly fitted Bermuda shorts indeed…too funny. Ok so no Scottish relative in the mix…got it :-).
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Rumanian. No Brits — not Scottish or English or Irish. Garry, on the other hand, has a big dollop of Irish.
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Bermuda short were bad no matter how well they fit.. :-0
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What do you mean “were?” They are still horrendous. Does anyone look good in them?
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Not that can recall, or have seen in recent times.., but then I tend yo block a lot of stuff out too…?
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They sell them on Lands End and LL Bean … other sites, too. They don’t even look good on the models.
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That is a super post, it really deserves a few prizes. I had to chuckle, sometimes a little sad, but that is your life and now relax and we can all savour the spices.
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It was what it was. I have long since passed believing stuff that happened so long ago is relevant to today. I think there ought to be a statute of limitations on complaints about childhood. Anecdotes are fine. Anything is fair game for an amusing post. But when we are senior citizens, blaming our problems on our parents seems a big (you should pardon the pun) old 🙂
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I just found the way you assembled the dish in writing was perfect.
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I used to bake bread. I don’t bother now … too much work. Too expensive. Buying bread is a LOT cheaper, even if it isn’t as good. I remember the way the recipes were presented. They were all done in pieces. Step one, first rising. Step two, punch down and knead, set for next rising. Step three — second rising and. Usually that’s the final one, but in complicated fancy breads, there’s a third rising and sometimes, rolling out the dough, slicing it into pieces, then braiding or rolling with cinnamon and raisins or something else. And finally, baking.
Maybe I’ll give it a try again, just for the smell of fresh bread baking. That was the best part, the smell of bread in the oven!
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Wow! What a post! It seems to me your recipe could have resulted in an over done even burned dish or a spoiled one, or a btoo bitter one or an stinky one but that it could alos produce that rare perfect dish as it did with you. Your post is creative and beautifully written. All who know you are better because of it, but the one you love is lucky indeed!
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Thank you. We must all work with whatever ingredients come to hand. Sometimes the magic works. Sometimes, it fails utterly.
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Now I’m The Pillsbury Dough Boy?? That’s..that’s blatantly LOVELY, Sweetheart!
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I have ever told you how yummy you are?
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Delicious.
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Lip-smacking good!
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Just don’t go poking him in the belly…
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Hey, I have a license. He’s MINE.
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To poke as you please I assume..?
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😀
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