Well, here they are. Feast your eyes on these babies.
Plump, healthy and weighing in at around 800g each – I couldn’t be more proud. The first loaf popped out of the oven at around 12.10pm this afternoon and the second followed a little later, at around 12.45pm. And isn’t is strange, even though they came from the same starter and were kept in pretty much identical conditions, they both look (and feel, as well as smell) different.
And I’m hooked. Making sourdough takes time – a lot of time – but during that time you’re seeing something grow and change and then you bake them and (sniff) when they come out (blub) and they’re all perfect, with that chewy crust and adorable sweet-sour flavour (sob), it just (gag) makes it all worthwhile.
Sorry, I think I’m going to have to leave it there. I need a tissue.
Special thanks to Pa for conjuring up a faultless bread paddle in record time this morning. I’ll have my Pizzaiola technique perfected in no time, you wait and see.