Five Hour Bagels
I pulled the dough from the hook. While every fiber of my being told me I should let the dough sit for some time, to relax, I just couldn't wait.
I pulled out the calculator and kitchen scale. Divided the dough into six semi-equal pieces, and called on some forearm strength.
To me it felt like prepping for pizza. I formed a neat little ball and then rolled out a snake. It wasn't very forgiving or yielding, the first three, but by the sixth ball the dough had finally relaxed.
I rolled, pinched and stretched. They look like uncooked bagels, I thought.
One by one, each ring of dough was placed, slid around, and flipped on lightly greased parchment. A layer of plastic wrap, and I was ready to find a warm spot for rising.
The front window, I thought.
Three hours later the oven was preheating and I was boiling bagels. Roberto kept watch.
And into the oven.
12 minutes more.
They look like bagels, I thought.
By 1:30, we were enjoying freshly made bagels.
"Tastes like a bagel to me." I said.
"Good job." Roberto said.