Sometimes I need to prove a point to myself that I’m not a complete failure for all the days I don’t achieve what I had initially set out to. To create something I love, and get that little sense of pride back.
This weekend has been a bit of a shitter. Various things causing a completely unproductive me. I made a conscious effort to make my Sunday afternoon better than the rest of the weekend.
I had a walk with the dog. We got soaked. Came home had a long, too hot bath, completed an arroword in my book with my mum and finally I created this magnificent beast of a loaf.
I love to bake. I love the joy of creating. I love the time to focus. When it comes to bread it’s a no brainer for me. I don’t always get it right, but I love to try. I love the process. I love the experiments of flavour, texture and shape. I love kneading. I love the smell. I love that first still slightly warm slice with lashings of butter. I love the knobbly end. Most of all I love the that little sense of achievement when it comes out so utterly beautiful. Not to mention the taste. Nom.