Take the Friendship, Leave the Bread 4/29/2009

Recently a friend dropped by unannounced and presented me with a large Ziploc bag filled with white goo. Printed on the front of the bag were the words "Amish Friendship Bread" and the date. She handed me the bag and a set of instructions and explained that the goo was bread starter. I was one of four people she was passing this to, and if I followed the instructions in ten days I would have two delicious loaves of bread and enough starter to pass along to four of my friends.

The instructions were simple enough. For the first five days all I had to do was "...mush the bag". On day six I had to add a cup of milk, a cup of flour and a cup of sugar, zip up the bag and mush it again (I was getting good at the mushing part). I was a little leery of anything that contained milk with specific instructions to not refrigerate, but then I remembered that the Amish don't have refrigerators and they're still clip clopping along the back roads of Pennsylvania, so it must be safe. Still, some mornings I’d wake to see that the bag was bloated with air, bursting to be released.

Day 7...mush. Day 8...mush. Day 9...mush. Finally day 10 arrived and by this time I felt like I had been caring for one of those "virtual" pets that needed daily attention lest they wither inside their little electronic homes. Following the directions I added more milk, more sugar and more flour. I then set aside four cups of starter to pass along to four friends (or I could keep one for myself and have fresh bread in ten more days). Once the starter was separated, I added several more ingredients and baked the batter. The bread turned out delicious, cinnamon flavored with the consistency of a quick bread (a "quick" bread that took ten days to make!) I decided to pass three bags along to my friends and save one for myself.

I gave one bag of starter to my friend Maria and two more to my friend Jessie (Jessie took two because one friend threatened me with bodily harm if I gave it to her.) I checked in on Jessie and Maria over the next ten days to be sure that they were mushing on schedule. I took my bag to NJ for the Easter weekend, intending to pass the subsequent starters along to my mother and two sisters. Once again, the bread turned out warm and tasty. My younger sister was suspicious about the safety of the starter and conveniently “forgot” to take hers home. My older sister forgot hers as well. My mother reluctantly offered to adopt a bag, commenting, "It's like an edible chain letter", but made it clear she was not going to pass anything along to anyone.

Sadly, I brought three of the four bags back from NJ. I thought, "I'll just make them all myself" at which point I started to think about the mathematics involved. Three bags would mean six loaves to bake on day 10, not to mention a dozen starters to have to pass along to others. If I kept those for myself, it would be like the enchanted broomstick from “The Sorcerer's Apprentice” scene in Fantasia. I'd find myself surrounded by gallon Ziploc bags of goo, mushing and mushing all day long. Add to this the emails I received from Jessie and Maria while I was gone: Jessie's said, "I held a little memorial service for the friendship bread right before I THREW THE STARTER IN THE TRASH! The bread was good, though...” Maria's said, "I just let out the air, did the last "mush" and two-thirds of the contents squirted out all over the counter. The zipper wasn't closed in the middle!"

With a sigh I walked out to my garage and threw my three bags of starter in the trash.

The moral of this tale is that while I welcome your friendship, a little goo goes a long way