SNL used to be awesome. I particularly enjoyed the early 90s, with Chris Farley, Mike Myers, and David Spade, just to name a few. One recurring sketch that really makes me chuckle involves Richard Laymer ("The Richmeister")(played by Rob Schneider), an office worker who annoys people by giving them nicknames. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can read a sample transcript here.
I like the skit so much that I’ve taken it upon myself to give my dear mother several nicknames of her own. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Mamster, Mammacita, the Mamminator, Mamburger, Mama Lama Ding Dong, etc. They’re just terms of affection for the lady who kindly gave me life.
I have a point.
Mamby Pamby introduced me to the wonder that is sourdough bread and I haven’t properly thanked her. She got the starter from a co-worker and gave me some to bring with me to the cold, harsh north. It gives me something to do every two weeks or so, keeps my belly full, stirs my creative juices, and reminds me of home and the Mamburger.
I stumbled upon a blogging event called Apples & Thyme, which celebrates time spent in the kitchen with mothers or grandmothers. I’ve already mentioned one thing that I gleaned from my grandmother’s kitchen--her fabulous peas & dumplins. For this event, I thought I’d honor Mambalaya AND feed hungry Eb (effectively killing two more birds with one stone, which I love to do).
It’s no secret that I’m obsessed with cinnamon. I had this recipe from Two Fat Als in the bottomless chasm that is my collection of “to-try” recipes. Although I used sourdough and they did not, it was my inspiration.
I fed Eb and made the dough as previously documented. (For the unacquainted, Eb is short for Ebenezer, my sourdough starter.)
After the first rise, I divided my dough into three hunks, one of which got further divided into eight little chunks for my mini loaf pan (a gift from the Mammologist). Then I stretched each portion of dough out and liberally sprinkled on a layer of cinnamon-sugar. I rolled them up and left them to rise in their designated pans.
They rose beautifully and baked up nicely. I was (and still am) delighted by the gorgeous swirl in the bread. These pictures don't do it justice, but look how purdy:
Thanks, Mammy, for helping me become a bodacious and bizarre bread maker.