I do hope this is my last post on this subject. If this has been torturous to read, imagine how it’s been to bake…..
I have taken the dough out of the fridge. It is firm, thanks to the chill no doubt, but no rise. Bubbles are still present though. I am going to persevere.
Into the preheated casserole pot in the oven. Not so much turned out as flopped in. No opportunity to beautifully shape or score, the dough is too wet for that. I don’t care if it doesn’t look the part, I just want it to taste ok.
Halfway through cooking I take the lid off the pot. Good lord! It’s risen!! Well one side at least, but I’ll take that! Oh thank you thank you!
Actually, it hasn’t. When I take the loaf out of the pot I realise it hasn’t risen at all. Deja vu. When I cut into it there are definitely more bubbles than the last loaf. But still a slightly uncooked part in the middle. And it is very flat. Not the beautiful loaf of the picture in the book. Curses.
We toast a slice and it is edible. Chewy, sour tang. It will do for eating with soups this week. Louis declares it, “Mummy’s yummy bread”. That makes me feel better.
The starter is relegated to the fridge. We have too many half-arsed loaves kicking around for me to bake any more this week. But I will try again next week. I will knead the old fashioned way, knead it until it can’t be kneaded anymore. Surely that’s where it’s going wrong? I’m not ready to abandon this challenge quite yet…….