Backs, bread – and polytunnels!

Ah, and I was doing so well!

There I was, listening to my body, in a mature sort of a way, doing a few hours gardening here, a lot more hours on the computer there, and my polytunnel patch was coming along nicely.

I should have known it wouldn’t last. Why do I always go and overdo things? I was so close to clearing the ground one weekend when the sun was shining, so I just went for it. Followed by hours trying to catch up on the computer. Result? Ouch! My back went.

Which means the past weeks have been spent hobbling around with a walking stick and feeling ninety-something instead of fifty-something.

Arg! The indignity of it all.

The worst thing has been the dandelions. I’m quite sure they know I can’t do anything about them. They’ve been blooming with abandon all over my path and garden. Just you wait, you tormenting little monsters, just you wait. I’ve just heard that dandelion wine is rather good…

I suppose one upside has been that I have finally had time to crack the art of making my own sourdough bread. Sort of.

The Comfort-Lover’s guide to making bread: find an amazing, award-winning baker running a business in his kitchen just down the road, and pick up a warm sourdough loaf on the evening dog walk. And only when he goes away to France for three months to write a book on bread making, do you snaffle some of his starter and have a go yourself. And if you want to see why, have a look: http://www.bethesdabakers.com/english/home.html

I have made bread before. Well, actually, my breadmaker has made bread before. The sourdough experience is quite different, as I have discovered. For one thing, it happens over a long time. Not the same as takes a long time. The actual mixing and kneading take hardly any time at all, and the rest is the bread doing its own thing in a corner while you get on with your day.

Which is fine, once you’ve got your head round the idea, got the starter ready to go the day before, and then get the thing going in the morning. (Otherwise you end up like me, eating hot bread at midnight. Not to be recommended if you value your digestive system, even though it is yum). Oh, and always read the instructions. I’d assumed white flour didn’t go near a brown loaf, so my first attempt came out as a fairly credible doorstopper. (That's the one proudly kept for posterity in the photograph) Mind you, it tasted okay as toast. I did start to have cravings for the softest, gooiest sliced white loaf after a bit. But that could just have been my teeth (dodgy at the best of times) going into shock.

My last couple of efforts have been a pride and a delight, though I say so myself. And it’s the best and tastiest breakfast around. Plus it keeps me going until lunch, however long the morning dog walk takes.

But Mick the wonderful baker has definitely NOT lost a customer. I may be very proud of my efforts, and I’ll still carry on feeding my little starter and making a loaf every now and again. I now really appreciate what it takes to make a loaf of bread, and I shall feel more privileged than ever when I can once more stroll over the grassed-over quarry, with its view over the mountains, to collect my loaf, baked at the hands of an expert.

Plus Phoebe the dog gets a mini baguette. Which makes her the happiest collie in town.

If you want to get tips on bread making, recipes etc, then visit Mick’s blog:
http://thepartisanbaker.wordpress.com/

Right, back to the polytunnel ….