The Best of Bread

I knead you to knead me

Today was a long, long day. At least 12 hours at work preparing for this huge annual meeting. I got a lot done. It was kind of fun, actually. I always like scrambling around before the party better than the actual event.

A little more than a week ago, I was in the English countryside, baking bread. Loz and I rode bikes to the store several thousand kilometers away to get yeast and a couple other things. I screwed up the kilograms/pounds equation for the flour and ended up having to double the recipe. I did not get the Fahrenheit/celcius thing exactly right either. Some things the book said to do were physically impossible.

Yet, six hours later, we were rewarded with two gorgeous loaves of bread, as this must have been a very forgiving recipe. We ravished them that night, and the next morning with kippers from Orford, and even had some left over for his father.

Twelve hours at work vs. six hours making bread. There might be something profound in that but I am not sure what it is.