Alone with Bread

The weather has turned and now the streets are filled with the noise of dogs and children and sirens. Somehow it is almost colder at night because the heat has made things damp, even though the thermostat says 58. I make bread now. All the time. Pretty much every day of my life. I started making it in earnest in Mexico even though I have had a passion for it since the house on Dousman St. in Riverwest. I was reading the Tassajara Bread Book and learning to knead and make whole wheat then. In Mexico I attempted to make European breads because Mexican pan was so ephemeral and lacked substance. Now I play with rye starters and hydration percentages trying to get the right crumb and a good crust. I had the great fortune of finding a mentor willing to give me a job baking bread all day. It kicks my ass on a regular basis, trying to haul myself into the world of fast paced gourmet production kitchen land. My arms and fingers and legs and back hurt all the time, but I am getting stronger and faster. My goal is speed now and consistency. But I come home to experiment with flavor and texture and methods. Overall I am very happy. Now I am learning to put my life back in around the bread. Trying to figure out how to keep in touch with my friends and family and keep loving my lover... how to enjoy myself and the other things I like to do. I crave sameness these days. I have done so much changing and the changes are still so new that I could lose them at any moment. I pray when I remember to, and I try to be kind and thoughtful, but I sometimes open my mouth when I shouldn't.

I hope to see my new niece soon and to get a good night's sleep.