I don't know about anyone else, but these trying times trigger memories. I saw a video on the internet that looked like my father baking bread. Naturally, my mind turned to an incident that I vividly remember. It happened more than once; actually just about every time he baked bread and there were children around. My children remember such incidents as well. When we lived down the road from them, just the smell of bread baking lured them to their house.
Dad baked at least 8 loaves of bread at a time. Sometimes he made dinner rolls, or cinnamon rolls, or other tasty treats. Then often he would make Squeaky Bread, also called Squeeze Bread.
Here's what I remember about Squeaky Bread. When the bread comes up to the second rising, take a hunk of dough and put it aside before shaping into loaves. While you are shaping the loaves, take Grandma's old griddle and heat it up along with the flatiron. When the griddle and flatiron are nice and hot, put a blob of butter on the griddle. Take a generous pinch of dough, maybe the size of an almond... roll it in a ball and put it in the blob of butter. Immediately put the hot flatiron on top and press down. Jiggle it around a bit and the dough will sing. Push it down and move it around until the dough stops squeaking and is golden. Quickly brush with melted butter and sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar mixture. The next step varies. If no children are around, either pop it in your mouth or put it on a plate. If a child is lingering hopefully, tease them a bit before you put it in their mouth to allow the Squeaky Bread to cool. This is best consumed immediately, while crispy. The main thing that is being served is memories and love.
When we lived in LA there were always kids around. I'm sure there are those that may remember a time or two while hanging out at our house either getting Squeaky Bread or maybe even a slice of bread straight from the oven with butter. When we moved to central California I don't remember so many kids hanging around, but the foster kids loved them too even as teenagers. Many of them had not experienced much making good family memories. I hope they have good memories of living with us.
This was not Grandma's flatiron, I don't remember how I acquired this one. Grandma's didn't have a handle, you had to grab it with a pair of those locking pliers. I can't imagine having to iron with these things! When I was younger, I ironed pillowcases, shirts, dish towels, and even my dad's boxer shorts! Now I use my iron for quilting and another one for crafting, but I never iron pillowcases or shirts any more. But remember that back then we didn't have dryers, things hung outside to dry. They needed to get ironed to smooth the fabric so it wouldn't be so scratchy. I think the dish towels were to make me practice.
I am thankful that I have such a family heritage. Who knew that someone would come up with clothes dryers and no-iron fabric so no more ironing pillowcases. My grandparents had a wringer washer and I learned how to use one when a teenager. I sure appreciated washing machines after that! I sound OLD saying this... but nowadays kids don't appreciate all they have. I know I didn't. We hung up wet towels to cool the house, now we complain when the AC isn't working. When the air is smoky, we stay inside and turn on the AC. What a blessing.
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