My daughter’s father has been in the kitchen hard at work experimenting with making bread. Some of his test subjects have not been too successful, yet MOST have been incredibly tasty!

Whenever I hear the running of the mixer and the clinging and banging of measuring instruments, I know he’s at it again as I wait in anticipation for the bread. He doesn’t make that quick stuff. Nope. He makes us wait a day for that chewy goodness by letting the dough age and rise slowly, sort of like sourdough.

Then when the sound of the oven’s alert alarm goes off, I know that it’s time to make the bread! Slowly the smell begins to permeate each room in the house. Then it happens! The bread is out of the oven. We stand over it like animals salivating over its meal. The smell is intoxicating. The crust keeps us transfixed just waiting for the cooling period to be over. Then the moment arrives when I hear the sound of crust giving way to the knife.

That first taste of the beautiful crumb in my mouth brings memories of San Francisco sitting in Boudin having that first taste of San Francisco sourdough. I’m not saying it’s better, it just gives me a taste memory of a bread I love so much.

He’s been chronicling his journey with baking bread and I’m glad that he’s taken up this new hobby. I wonder what he’ll make next. Okay, let me be honest, who cares. Just keep the bread coming! I need my daily fix! I mean bread. That’s what I said, bread.

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