I'm a pretzel lover. It's my one weakness. Frugality gets thrown to the wayside when I walk past an Auntie Anne's stand in the mall (I can actually smell it from the front door now, however, now that I'm preggo). I always cave in and buy a pretzel. Or Two. Or Three. Ok, just two, but I usually really want a third, though the guilt factor finally stops me from rashly offering my debit card to be swiped again.Things started out well. I decided to make the dough in my bread machine using the dough setting. But, by accident, pushed the basic setting instead. Oops. I managed to take the dough out just in time before it started actually baking it, so I think it was ok. Even if it did come out with steam, all stuck to the bottom of the pan like a mound of mashed potatoes.
Rolling the dough into the pretzels shape was the funnest part. Except, hubby got a bad piece of dough and continued to struggle making a snake shape in deep frusteration. I coaxed him into trying another piece, but not before he had chucked the bad dough against an unsuspecting wall.
By the time the pretzels were baking in the oven, I thought I had really failed. We would have to start all over again with new dough and wait another hour for it rise. When smoke started creeping out from the oven door, I panicked and took the pretzels out. They were a little burnt on the bottom and resembled nothing like an Auntie Anne pretzel. Sigh. Maybe next time.

















