On my shopping list:
bread flour (white and whole wheat)
baskets for proofing: “bannetons”
The dough waited overnight, cradled in a colander lined with a tea towel, ready to be turned into this morning’s loaf. 60/40 brioche/wholemeal flour, 80% hydration, salt.
The kitten alarm clock started meowing as soon as it was light, luckily only 8 a.m. in our grey winter. I fed her with cat biscuits, fed the starter with a handful of flour and some warm water, and preheated the oven. For the first time the loaf had a significant roundness to it – it had a high, proud shape, a sharp edge where it had been scarred. When I sliced it open the crust had a real crackle, the crumb a good spring, variegated holes. It just needed butter to be perfect.
I am far from being religious, but making pain au levain makes me feel a kind of Old Testament awe. I made something from just flour and water and air, a living thing. It might as well have been Adam’s rib for all I feel so proud. I made something from scratch. Flour and water and air, these are my everyday gods.
On my kitchen wall:
On my shoes,
Buttering the sky:
That should be enough contact
With God in one day
To make anyone