And then, there was bread.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013


We've moved. We haven't unpacked, we haven't bought all of our furniture. But, we have bread. My sourdough starter was transported by hand in the move, and it made it safe and sound. The new house is a lot warmer, and it very quickly matured to just the right amount of sour, ready for baking. I couldn't ignore it. Unpacking could (and can) wait.


It started off with a sourdough sponge, left to bubble away overnight. 


Then, mixed in with more flour, it was kneaded, knocked, rolled and left to rise. 


Last night, late, it was knocked back, mixed in with oil and salt, and left out on a make-shift proving tray. I didn't quite realise how small the new oven is - it's hardly a roast chicken size (which is how all good ovens are measured, aren't they?) which is rather quite terrifying. All cooking temperatures and times will need to be adjusted! 


And finally, after all that baking and fiddling with the new oven, there was bread. Four round loaves slightly too-dark on top, that are perfect for dunking in balsamic vinegar, or layering with chutney and cheese. I have no idea which box these ingredients might be in. For now, it's buttered and enjoyed with tea. I'm rather proud of myself.

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