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A confession

June 11, 2009

I have a confession to make.
I like to bake bread.  From scratch.  Yeast and the whole sha-bang.  Mixing and kneading by hand.  Rising, punching down, rising again.  Shaping by hand.  I love it all.  The whole experience of it.  It makes me feel oh so domestic.  Plus, I really love to feed the people I care about and care for.  Making homemade bread just takes that feeling to a whole ‘nother level for me.
I have no photographic proof of my latest loaves (because I was too busy trying to get ready for what turned out to be a fabulous night out with some girlfriends -yes, for those of you keeping track of me in real life, this was my second -count it, baby- night out in less than a week!!!), however they turned out fantastic.  Whole wheat, hand shaped, fresh herbs from my garden laden french bread batards.
There you have it.  My confession.  I have other things to confess to, but they will have to wait.  Tonight my bread making was heavy on my mind.
I’ll think I’ll go have a piece.

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