The sourdough thing has already gotten out of hand.
Last week was my first foray. The recipe made two 7-8" inch rounds. They were demolished in about a day and a half.
I told my locusts that I planned to make it once a week so they'd have to cope. This was met with wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I held firm.
This week, I made two more. One was gone same day, and my sister called asking for a whole loaf. So I snatched it from the clutches of the boys as they were about to dig in and set it aside for her (sans one tiny piece) and...am now spending my Saturday making more.
On the one hand, I don't mind. I enjoy the process. I enjoy the results.
On the other, my jeans do not enjoy me enjoying the results, but that is the fault of my genes. So the two of them need to set up a cage match and just get it over with.
Best part though? The house smells amazing while it bakes.
No comments:
Post a Comment