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There are two constants in our house lately — apart from a chaos creating cat and too much godforsaken snow. First, I have more books than bookshelves, a fact becoming ever clearer since I went on a rampage after I bought the same book three times because I could either not remember that I had it or I couldn’t find it when I needed it and decided that the books needed to be organized; and, second, I bake more than we can eat, and far more than I am inclined to eat.

Last summer it was (peach) pies.

Last week it was bread: oatmeal-maple bread (from here), bagels, irish soda bread with whiskey-soaked raisins (adapted from here).

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(I have not quite enough counter space in the kitchen if I’ve got other stuff going on, which that day I did. This particular loaf had to be repeatedly moved around to be kept from the cat.)

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(Bagels, waiting to be boiled, and, below, once they’ve been baked. I need to get better at rolling them, because they mostly don’t look like bagels any more.)

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