I remember Wednesdays after school me and my brother were picked up by my Granddad , stuffed into his powder blue Austin Allegro and shuttled to my Grandparents bungalow. On entry, the pervasive wafts of this week’s bread making filled our nostrils. After a cup of milky tea, our little digits would be washed and put to work kneading, greasing and glazing the second batch of the day.
In pursuit of the good old days I began the task of making my own bread! And ow what a joy! Each week I have been experimenting with yeast, flours and styles of making bread, to come to the conclusion I am hooked! I love the ritual to perforate week day drudgery.
Check out my latest result:
I now completely understand why that woman tried to make a gingerbread man come to life!
