Let. Me. Tell. You. A story. It is guaranteed worth reading if you enjoy other people’s sadness.
Today is Easter (yay)! It’s also the day that I get to bake the sourdough I’ve been fermenting, cultivating, and reading motivational stories to for the past six days. I forgot to take a picture, but it was beautiful. I mixed the bread yesterday using the levain (which took 5 days to make), and let it ferment and then rest overnight. Then today, at 12:15, I put the two loaves I made in the oven at 475 degrees. Immediately after this happened, my friend, whose parents’ house I was planning to have dinner at, called to tell me he was on his way over to pick me up.
Since I had already put the bread in the oven, I didn’t want to take it out. But I needed to leave. Mistake number 1. So, I asked one of my roommates if she could take the bread out at 1:00. She had to leave at 12:50 though, so I asked my other roommate if she could just turn off the oven and open the oven door a little bit at 1:00 so the heat could get out. Mistake number 2. She agreed, and I was like “ah yeah so perfect”. So I go ahead to my friend’s house, my roommate texts me at 1:00 to say she turned it off, and I rejoice.
THREE HOURS LATER, I got home. And I went into the kitchen. And I was like, “oh wow, it’s super warm in here”. Then I noticed that the oven door was slightly open and I was so excited my roommate remembered to do that. Then I look up. And I realize the oven is still on. STILL ON. THREE HOURS LATER.
I opened the oven door, took out my barbecued loaves, and put them on the counter. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t that bad, but it was pretty bad. They were VERY brown. Then… and this is a thing that actually happened… I stood in front of the bread, twisted an oven mitt in my hands, and bowed my head in deep remorse. I seriously stood there for a good 10 minutes regretting all of my life choices.
When I got up the courage to try to cut into one of the loaves, I realized pretty quickly that the crust was a good half inch thick. I almost broke my little arm off trying to get my bread knife through it. The good news though is that the very center of the little chunk I sawed off the loaf was delicious. It actually tasted like sourdough! Three fourths of the loaf was completely inedible, but hey, you can’t have everything.
The first loaf, and a slice from it.
The top and bottom of the second loaf.
The bread pretending to be a face. Silly bread. You’re not a face.