This is exactly what my brother and cousin did when we were having the house blessed in the early 60's in New Orleans. They emptied two large pickle jars of powdered milk, emergency hurricane provisions, instead of flour. The parish priest continued with his blessing after commenting that two boys were in big trouble. Mama, of course, was mortified. She said she found powdered milk here and there for years, real or imagined.
By the way, the powdered milk coated everything better than flour, including the kids.

This is exactly what brother and cousin did when we were having the house blessed in the early 60's in New Orleans. They emptied two large pickle jars of powdered milk, emergency hurricane provisions, instead of flour. The parish priest continued with his blessing after commenting that two boys were in big trouble. Mama, of course, was mortified. She said she found powdered milk here and there for years, real or imagined.
By the way, the powdered milk coated everything better than flour, including the kids.

Galaxy Silver+MultiLED

I am also going to suggest soaking the raisens in hot water. I do it all the time when I make raisen bread. It does not change the flavor and the raisen do not dry out further while the bread is baking. I am sure they would blend better. I am also suggest vanilla extract with the milk.

Great job on the video. What accent???

The Rivera mural incident inspired E.B.White to publish the following poem:

I Paint What I See
-- by E.B. White

"'What do you paint, when you paint on a wall?'
Said John D.'s grandson Nelson.
'Do you paint just anything there at all?
'Will there be any doves, or a tree in fall?
'Or a hunting scene, like an English hall?'

'I paint what I see,' said Rivera.

'What are the colors you use when you paint?'
Said John D.'s grandson Nelson.
'Do you use any red in the beard of a saint?
'If you do, is it terribly red, or faint?
'Do you use any blue? Is it Prussian?'

'I paint what I paint,' said Rivera.

'Whose is that head that I see on the wall?'
Said John D.'s grandson Nelson.
'Is it anyone's head whom we know, at all?
'A Rensselaer, or a Saltonstall?
'Is it Franklin D.? Is it Mordaunt Hall?
Or is it the head of a Russian?

'I paint what I think,' said Rivera.

'I paint what I paint, I paint what I see,
'I paint what I think,' said Rivera,
'And the thing that is dearest in life to me
'In a bourgeois hall is Integrity;
'However . . .
'I'll take out a couple of people drinkin'
'And put in a picture of Abraham Lincoln;
'I could even give you McCormick's reaper
'And still not make my art much cheaper.
'But the head of Lenin has got to stay
'Or my friends will give the bird today,
'The bird, the bird, forever.'

'It's not good taste in a man like me,'
Said John D.'s grandson Neslon,
'To question an artist's integrity
'Or mention a practical thing like a fee,
'But I know what I like to a large degree,
'Though art I hate to hamper;
'For twenty-one thousand conservative bucks
'You painted a radical. I say shucks,
'I never could rent the offices-----
'The capitalistic offices.
'For this, as you know, is a public hall
'And people want doves, or a tree in hall
'And though your art I dislike to hamper,
'I owe a little to God and Gramper,
'And after all,
'It's my wall . . .'

'We'll see if it is,' said Rivera.