"Die wrinkle die!" Carol sang no noel over new hubby's favorite slacks. Thru clenched teeth she sucked in steam from iron. "No matter," steam puffed out pink rose lips, "no matter how I press, push, grind and twist, that stupid wrinkle just will not give it up. It is as if it's perma-pressed or something... Ooohhh no!" Carol cringed, for the wrinkle, the pant leg pleat, had given it up, charred black and unholy holey at the knee. Carol tears extinguished flames of ire in blue Swede eyes.
"Low altitude attitude has done me in again. What is wrong with me?" Carol dabbed tears from cheek with soft light hair. "Why can I not just stop being negative? I will never fly right." She whined a tad more, before the sound of driveway crash wrecked self-loathing, left ego smoldering...
The wind of Will Hope blew in thru open door, stirred sad smoke into swirling wisps with teaspoon of optimism. "Your car needed a new bumper anyway." A somewhat less than pudgy hubby held out his arms to wife.
"Ooohhh no," Carol Hope lamented, fell into his arms gainst teddy bear chest, jarred his glasses askew on nose.
"Or did I say wife gets a new car?" Will hugged her, felt on his cheek her tears in hair, kissed her ear.
"Oh, it's not the car, it's..." Carol sniffled, reached for, then held forth homemaker failure, "I ruined your favorite slacks."
"Well," Will plucked pants from her fingers, surveyed the damage, "What rankle hath wrinkle wrought?" He held pants up between them. Thru burnt hole Will right eye stared straight into the left eye of Carol. "Wow, I see you burned completely thru both sides of the leg. Not many bear such unwavering perseverance." He snickered, tossed pants aside, gave wife snug hug.
Carol slide hands up chest, cradled his cheeks in her soft hands. Blue eyes met brown. "Why are you not mad?"
"Cause I'm mad about you." Will matter of facted.
I'd be peeved, if you ironed a hole in my favorite dress." Carol stated, yet more questioned not hubby Will, but the will of self.
"Actually, I am furious." Will turned dark. "We must honor charred pant remains with proper burial neath stone epitaph of enigma: Twas perseverance too well done; betrayed sad pants undone."
"You are mocking me, because I am a professor of English Lit?" Carol narrowed those blue Swede eyes.
Will set in. "To mock, yet to..."
Carol gave both hubby love handles the stop and desist lobster pinch.
"Yeee-ouchee!" Will pulled claws loose, quipped away, "To mock, yet to weep, alas poor pants, shall pant no more." He emoted nother ig-mo gem, while keeping lobster claws at bay.
"Dust to dust yet to sweep; better not bitter for to sleep," Carol countered, punctuated with giggle.
"Something burning?" Will sniffed non-fragrant air.
"Duh! Charred pants!" Carol sang.
"Is that smoke coming from the kitchen?" Will sort a wondered.
"Ohhh no," Carol sung.
Together they opened windows, aired out the house called home. Together they dumped burnt pork chops and charred pants into trash receptacle near driveway, where Carol observed, "Your truck bumper sort a leapfrogged my car Lady Macduff''s bumper."
"Alas, poor Lady Macduff, sad wife knew you well." Will Hope sighed.
"Alas, poor husband new car buys," Carol gave sideways nod and rose lips smile.
Strolling arm and arm back to home back door, Will reflected, "Ya know, in a way I sure am glad my precious wife burned a hole in my favorite slacks." He emphasized with wide open eyes."Maybe little mini disasters happen in sync for a reason."
"Like saving your butt from the wrath of wife." Carol gave Will sly fox eyes and full tooth grin.
"Like saving us from... I love that little fox eating fried chicken look of yours." He marveled at rare find fine wife.
At his side, under his wing, Carol completed the distracted thought of Will, "Hard times always teach, sometimes save and at times even pull us together."
As they re-entered kitchen thru back door, Carol's tummy growled, reminded, "Well, an evening meal might have saved us from starving."
"Ah, but what is that I see covered in terry cloth atop yon stove?" Will found hope.
"Great Grandma Olla's home-made rolls," Carol offered. "At least I think that's what it is. The recipe card is the original and the title at top is for sure smudged with butter and probably milk."
"Let's give her a look." Will peeled back terry cloth. "Zwieback!" Will pealed glee. "Your Swedish Grandma may have written skorpa on the recipe card, or like much of Europe adopted the name zwieback from the old German zwie - twice, and backen - to bake, twice baked. When I was a kid, my Mom shopped groceries at the local Lucky Seven and off the shelf bought boxed sweet zwieback for my teething baby sister. Thing is Mom usually bought two boxes at a time, because big brother loved chowing down on those tough little cookie-biscuits too."
"I just hope it is edible." Carol feared nother oops. "Sure is hard."
"Supposed to be hard." Will nodded. "Most cultures around the world bake it in one form or another, because twice baked to dry prevents spoilage. I love how your Grandma's version of it looks like it has little knobs to pick it up by. And I love that you took the time to cook this from scratch for us."
Tummy to tummy they k-i-k-i-k-i-kissed, interrupted by hunger growl of Carol tummy and resulting giggles.
"You know what goes with Zwieback?" Will more planned than asked.
"Whatever it is needs to be quick." Her tummy growled agreement.
"How does a salad sound, maybe seasoned with salt and pepper, a few dashes of mustard, a tad of minced garlic, two tads chopped parsley, all tossed with sweet malt vinegar and olive oil?" Will gave Carol his eyes wide open, head tilted sideways, why not look.
"Kill the garlic, add some sides of salami, ham, cheese, maybe some butter, peach jelly and coffee... Oh yeah!" Carol headed for frig.
And soon so it was as the house aired out, that thru open patio door... by candle light two sat at scarlet cloth covered table, shared hands, prayed thanksgiving, shared a sip of wine with the bread of better choice... a healthier meal made by them together and dubbed by Will, "Zwieback and Rescue Salad... just a swim in the sweet vinaigrette of life."
"What a recipe... love is..." So did Carol sing.
Jesus: "Love one another as I love you. Love one another, that your joy be full..." John 15:11&12.
The Zwieback In This Story
Dissolve tsp of sugar and 1/4 oz packet active dry yeast in 1/2 cup warm water. Then in a larger bowl combine the above with 3 cups flour, tbsp salt, 3/4 cup cooled melted butter, 2 cups cooled scalded milk... beat well... Next gradually add up to 3 more cups of flour to form a soft dough. On a lightly floured surface knead the dough bout 6 to 8 minutes til elastic and smooth. Put dough in a butter smeared bowl, cover with cloth, let rise until doubled (bout an hour or so). Pat down, Divide into 4 pieces, divide 3 of the pieces into 8 pieces each, hand roll into balls, place on butter coated baking sheets. Hand roll remaining 4th piece into 2 doz smaller balls, press onto tops of 2 doz larger balls. Cover with cloth, let rise a tad less than an hour. Remove cloth, bake til golden at 375 deg for about 30 minutes... and voila... Zwieback... great with soups, salads, gravies, cold cuts, cheese, butter, jelly, coffee or tea... and life and love...
"I am the bread of life." Jesus said of himself in John 6:48. Why did Jesus do the miracle (John 6:1-12) of feeding over 5,000 people with 5 loaves of bread and 2 small fish (awesome)? He explains in John 6:48-51 (awesomer and the reason for the title "Twice Baked"). All have earthly temporary lives; but only those that eat of the bread of Jesus gain heavenly lives eternal, the fullness of joy.)
No coincidence that the baby Jesus was born in Bethlehem, a town whose very name means House of Bread. Bethlehem, a town of bread bakers amid rolling hills of grain.
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