I found a stellar beer bread recipe, which not only sounded delicious, but would neatly make use of the leftover bacon and odd bits of cheese in my fridge. (Anything with four tablespoons of butter drizzled over the top before baking has got to be good.) It was a breeze to stir together and I had it in the oven in minutes.
Not long after it went in plumes of smoke started exhaling from the oven. When I peeked in I could see the problem. The bread had risen as expected and in so doing spilled the melted butter over the edges of the pan onto the floor of the oven.
Now, my smoke alarms are not only sensitive, but inter-linked. If one goes off, they all go off. It's a loud, ear-splitting beep. I immediately opened all the windows and started fanning the alarms from underneath, hopping from one to another because I was unsure which one had started the chorus. And if you're wondering why I didn't just take the battery out, I'm one step ahead of you. Seems that once the life-saving mechanism is tripped it has a mind of its own and there's no negotiating.
By this time both cats are looking terrified under the coffee table, one is panting and both are meowing the way cats do when you take them on a long road trip. What was probably minutes seemed like hours. Finally peace was restored and my apartment was left smelling like a bombed out homeless shelter.
The saddest part was the anemic loaf of bread sitting, half-baked, on top of the stove gasping it's final breaths. I tried salvaging it by popping it back in. I figured all the problem butter had run off so I was past the point of danger. I was wrong. The #(#@***@!! alarm went off two more times! I'm sure my neighbors love me. I finally gave up completely and shoved the whole half-assed mess down the disposal.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why there is no post for Bacon Cheddar Beer Bread.
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