I made bread. From flour.
I did this because I cannot stop watching The Great British Baking Show and, aside from being hopelessly in love with that Paul Hollywood, I find myself absorbing all this baking information and desire.
It’s absolutely clear to me why people become obsessed with baking things. It’s a fascinating, tasty form of entertainment. There are things about baking that make total sense to me: fermentation, moisture, steam, proving, etc. The more I bake, the more I will fail, so we’ll see just how much sense I have. But I didn’t look too closely at a recipe for bread and I got a darned good loaf of bread out of my oven around six-o-clock. My husband* has a great little video tutorial online; I watched that a bunch of times and then just sorta winged it.
What’s weird is that my system doesn’t handle bread very well. Here and there, I can eat a bite. Mostly, this bread-baking curiosity is simply that: curiosity about how bread is made. My bread-eating friends will benefit, and that’s a good reason to explore this.
I’ve said often that I don’t want to learn to knit because I cannot possibly have another thing I love to do as much as sewing. There’s already not enough time for making quilts; you want me to sit down and purl? No way. But now I have a problem.