A previous post mentioned my search for the perfect sourdough bread. Maybe I must change the adjective, perfect.
“No constants in your recipe”
I read incessantly(or is it obsessively?) about sourdough; combine a variety of recipes and methods; watch video clips on kneading, folding, proving – each one different – and then use my sister’s recipe jotted down during a telephone conversation. I heard yesterday that I’ve incorrectly copied some vital kneading time information.
“The kitchen is cold”
Most of my trials took place in the winter months.
“You change too many things: you’ve used grounded wheat kernels this time – and by the way, wheat kernels are the perfect feeding ground for yeast”
There wasn’t any rye flour in the cupboard.
Quoted my scientist husband.
And I keep on trying.
We never know the outcome of one of my baking sessions. I’m going to show him (or is it rather myself?).
And I kept on trying.
I baked these loaves on Saturday. It tastes great. It is almost perfect (in my eyes), and I’m perfectly happy.
I’m getting there.
They say practice makes perfect, and the harder you practice, the luckier you get. But, yeast is a living organism. Relationships with living things cause some interesting moments.
My affair with sourdough bread.