When Jerry got home from work yesterday, he found a mystery gift on our porch. There was a paper plate with three slices of homemade bread covered in plastic wrap, a small bag of dough and a sheet of instructions that had been photocopied so many times that it was blurry and off center.
Since we have no idea who it came from, Jerry declared it toxic poison. Because anyone who would take the time to give us fresh baked goods from their own kitchen MUST have an ulterior motive. Like killing our entire family.
"THIS GOES RIGHT IN THE TRASH!"
"What?! You're crazy. Let me see it," I said, grabbing the recipe from his hands. "Jer, it probably came from your mom. She wraps food like this for us all the time."
"It's not from my mother," he said with false certainty. "It's poison. Someone's trying to kill us. I'm NOT eating that until we find out who it's from."
"Fine. Your loss. More for me and Alli."
"YOU'RE NOT GIVING THAT TO ALLISON."
"She eats MARKERS, Jer. I'm pretty sure ... (looked for the name of the recipe) ... AMISH FRIENDSHIP BREAD has to be better than that."
I'm not exactly sure how the disagreement ended, probably with Allison chanting for lunch, but I tucked the bread, dough and directions on top of the toaster oven and Jerry turned his crazy radar off.
After Alli's morning nap the next day, we went downstairs for a snack and I spotted the bread. It looked so delicious, I didn't do a thing to it. I just got the feeling that adding butter or toasting it would be a mistake, so I split a slice in half and Alli and I sat at the table and dug in.
It was amazing. Ridiculously moist with golden raisins and chopped nuts. The top had a layer of cinnamon sugar, which gave it a deliciously sweet taste.
Allison summed it up perfectly when she finished her last bite.
We split another piece.
In the meantime, I payed a little closer attention to the recipe. If the bag of dough can make that, I might as well try. For the next few days, I'm supposed to mush the bag and let out any air as it rises. On the tenth day, I have to add the other ingredients and bake, saving some dough to pass on to someone else.
I'm already looking forward to using my bread pans for the first time ever.
But when Jerry came home, he noticed two of the slices were gone.
"OH MY GOD, YOU ATE IT?!"
"Yeah, it was amazing. There's one slice left, but I'm hoping you still don't want it."
"DID ALLISON EAT IT TOO?"
"Yeah, she asked for more, so we had a second piece. And I'm pretty sure Toby got a chunk that fell off the table, so you're probably going to be on your own for dinner tonight. You know, because we'll all be dead by then and everything."
"I won't even get to tell you I told you so," Jerry grumbled.
"Jer, seriously, it's fine. It's delicious. Try some. ... I mean, it's called FRIENDSHIP bread."
"If I wanted to kill somebody, that's what I'd call it too."
For a man who worships presents and food, you'd think he'd be a little more receptive to the two combined.