Baked

When I was a little kid, about 90 years ago, my mother baked the family's bread. She baked pretty much everything that could be baked, but especially bread. Fantastic, home made, delicious bread. Of course, being kids, my siblings and I were idiots and didn't appreciate what we had. We used to get so ridiculously excited when once in awhile she'd stop in at the day-old store at the old Manor bakery on Penn Street and get us what we called "bought bread". You know the stuff I'm talking about. Soft, tasteless, uniformly shaped, sliced white bread. Stuff I wouldn't use as insulation now.

Mom eventually wised up and decided that we weren't worth the aggravation and "bought bread" became the norm. Like I said, we were idiots.

I tell you this because my mom will be judging the baking contest at Irish Fest, along with other equally qualified experts. And I'm telling you, scone bakers, you'd better be practicing because this woman knows her stuff. And if you need somebody to sample those practice batches, I'm ready and willing. I promise I'll be appreciative. I've learned my lesson.

Get the lowdown on the baking and other contests right here.