It smelled more like beer mixed with dead dog than bread! After a wonderfully fun and long phone call I walked into my kitchen and found disaster. My bread dough had risen out of its bowl, onto the counter, dripped off the counter, and grew across the floor! It was odorizing half my house with a pungent, awful mix of smells.
I was raised not to waste anything, especially food, if in this case you could label it as such. Twice on similar occasions I’d baked the “bread” anyway but baking hadn’t improved it one wit! I couldn’t eat it, so this time I scooped the nasty stuff up, hauled it to the backyard and buried it as fertilizer.
I was satisfied that in the spring my garden would thrive with so much soil conditioner. Spring came and I put on my rock hounding boots, took up my shovel, and headed for the backyard to turn over the soil.
I was delighted! I was thrilled! My backyard was full of mole mounds. I still love those mounds of fluffy dirt!
I jumped in the air high as I could and landed, not in a glory of soft soil but in odorous goo! Yes, the dough I’d buried in many places had continued to RISE and mix with mud and had grown four fold! I pulled myself out and beat the stuff down with my shovel. It exhaled giant, terrible poofs of stink!
My neighbors complained about the mysterious smell and so did the garbage men the next year. For that full year I reasoned that the “dough” surely must have run out of sugars to eat and would surely DIE but it never did! My yard got bigger and higher all that year as I refused to waste “food?” I never could plant a garden.
When a garbage dump is full people flatten it and plant a housing tract on top. To this day, I watch the news in dread hoping not to see ‘An Odorous Mystery; why did this neighborhood rise up ten feet and put off a terrible smell?’