The Fredösphere

So, you complain my blogging has been light, lately?  Of course you mean that as a compliment, right?  Light, as in a delicate filo pastry, baked to perfection, then injected with helium and flung via FTL jump into the weightlessness of deep space?  That was exactly what you were thinking, right?

Today's blogging will be heavy -- dense as a homemade loaf of whole grain bread.  Because it is a homemade loaf of whole grain bread.

A month ago, I started baking bread, and it has been a complete, total blast.  I am a maker by nature; a craftsman; baking bread satisfies all maker-related urges.  With each recipe, I iterate, converging with each modification on the optimum artifact.  There are variations in moisture, temperature, time, steam (which helps the crust to form) and slashing patterns to keep the baker entertained indefinitely.

More than cutting into the bread, or even eating it, I love beholding the finished loaf as it comes out of the oven.  I love the sensuous curves of the complete loaf -- like a Frank Gehry building, but not capricious, because one can intuit the various surface tensions and internal pressures that combined to produce a crust that domes just so.

Credit goes to the Third Holiest Site in Judaism for opening my eyes (and the eyes of lots of people in the Ann Arbor area) to what bread can be when it is done right.  Credit is also due to chef Mark Bittman, who in turn recommends Charles Van Over's The Best Bread Ever.