Collect for a cactus flower

 

God of houseplants, 

whose exuberance is manifested in Christmas cactuses that bloom again in Lent, 

bloom in us in these grey days and bring us to yourself 

so that we may bloom in you in unity of love and purpose,

bright pink God!

No salt

 I made Buttermilk Bread today. Buttermilk because I had a jug of it left over from another cooking project a couple weeks ago. Today because it's a Saturday, and if I think through the project ahead of time, I can squeeze the risings and the baking of a loaf of bread in between the driving and the coming home, dropping my daughter off for bowling, for swimming, for social club. And picking her up again.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon and I've eaten my first slice — the heel — of today's loaf. Crispy golden crust, profoundly bland interior. It's underbaked and doughy. Worse, I forgot the salt. Imagine white flour combined with immaculately white buttermilk and mushed into lumpy paste and that's a pretty fair description of what I just ate. 

The bread is back in the oven, minus one slice, for remedial baking. We'll see. There's salted butter in the refrigerator, which might help the eating. But truly, if you'd like to discover what it means to be "the salt of the earth" via negation, I've got what you need. 

And isn't that kinda like ... no life lesson here, other than read the recipe more carefully, or just plain pay attention!