My history with bread seems to hold steady. The focaccia did not turn out as planned. I milled the flour, mixed it and let it rise. It was a beautiful rise. \The instructions then said to punch down and pat out onto an oiled baking sheet. Did this, and dimpled the top, sprinked on parmesean cheese and a bit of sea salt. Nice looking out of the oven, but TOUGH!

Bob gamely ate some with olive oil and herbs with me. The cement in the gut feeling came back. Not for him. He loves bread in any way shape and form.

Okay, the say confession is good for the soul. I confess there are two foods that for some reason confound me. One is Jello. For love or money I can't make Jello. It's either unset, runny, hard as a rock, separating, or won't come out of the mold. Mom soon learned not to ask me ever to make it.

Well, I finally did it. For a long while now, I have been growing highly suspect of the foods around us. It just seemed like there was too much convenience, and many of us just didn't seem to be getting any healthier. Then I saw the movie The Future of Food (it's on Netflix) and that got me going on frankenfoods, you know, genetically modified foods that hold farmers ransom and put genes of different things where they are not supposed to be. My mother just died of ischemic bowels, which means the arteries to her digestive system were totally blocked.