As novelties and whims go, even for me two days is a record. Think I’m bored of bakery already.
Although for bored, read failed. Whenever I’m doing shit on the Playstation I’m bored of the game, whenever I’m losing at Monopoly I find it boring, my temp job, on the other hand, is just actually boring.
But last night I think I quite literally bit off more than I could chew. Actually no, quite literally would mean I bit off a chunk of bread so big I nearly choked to death, or spat it out, what I mean is allegorically I bit off more than I could chew, ergo I tried to make foccacia.
Even the finest bakers in the world would scoff at making your first loaf of plain white bread on a Saturday and then by Monday attempting a yeast product with three c’s in the title. THREE.
But I am that fool, the bread on Saturday turned out perfectly (if not a little dense) I presumed I was touched, like a latter day baking Jesus.
This was almost confirmed to me last night when I made some fake bread for Dawn, my wheat intolerant flatmate, (she just can’t stand it), out of rice flour (which is actually just ground up rice… mmm) it’s more of a cake to be honest, and it tastes of nothing much, but then again, that’s just like the bestest wheat free breads you get in Sainsbury’s, only they’re more expensive because lots of people with money in Islington have food intolerances.
So I started on the foccaccia, (now with four c’s).
When I did my first ever stand up gig I had some material about Delia Smith being a witch and proving it by reading out some of her recipes, exposing the witchcraft. Well, this foccacia recipe was from www.deliaonline.com … she obviously is a witch, I followed the recipe to the letter (bar having any actual scales still and just guessing the much harder to measure volumes she required. But in her dream house she must add a spell, what I made wasn’t mini flatbreads, perfect for having with my pasta, but tiny greasy rock cakes that taste of yeast and olive oil.
She is a witch.
Burn her like I burnt my bread. (I didn’t actually burn it, but it would make more poetic sense)