So, a friend of mine is in town from Italy. Well, I say friend…we’ve been online friends for years, but have never met. But he was going to be in Texas on business, so he drove up to Dallas…which is so cool. So, I’m hunting down the really big dust bunnies, and prepping stuff for dinner this evening. (Yummy menu: Salmon broiled in a white wine and dill bath, wild mushoom pilaf, asparagus with hollandaise, and my world famous chocolate cinnamon cookies of doom for desert. And of course, because it’s me, and bread is what I do…bread. I decided to get the bread started really early, so I’d have plenty of time for two risings before I had to get the ovens started for the bread and the cookies.
I gather ingredients and set them on the counter. I open the flour….and something flew at me. Let us all remember and repeat the immortal words of all women startled in their kitchens: “EEEEEEEEEEKKKK! Fuck! Eeeewwwwh!”
Boll weevils in the flour…you know I hate to see that. Bleh. ew, ew, ew. Fortunately, it was stuff that we bought last night, and it never made it into the pantry, so at least the problem was a contained problem, and I didn’t lose my stocks of various variety flours. (whew) I did however call the store and read them the riot act. Two different brands of flour, both just infested. *SO* not the thing you want to see first thing in the morning when you want to get a bread batch started.
It’ll put you right off your feed, yes it will.