Sour Grapes and Sour Dough

Today we have rain in biblical proportions (>40mm in 24 hrs) and the garden is once more a lagoon. The wind is still blowing, though settling back a little now. We lost power at around 4 a.m., so once the animals had been fed this morning we returned to bed and cuddled, listening to the sound of the wind in the eaves until the power was restored and we could have a cuppa. It became a little crowded – Nell was in her place on the foot of the bed, Griff was on the floor at the bed’s foot, Suzie was on her back on Griff’s bed at the side of ours, Mr L and I were snuggled up in the middle, while Ted was was down by our knees under the duvet and Treacle sat on my pillow… glaring. It was past time for us to be moved and for him to be installed on the fluffy cover that I place on the bed daily for cat convenience.

We occupied our time in a fantasy re-fit of the kitchen – knocking down the wall between the two rooms in the front part of the house, adding more cupboards and a huge FO USA-nian type refrigerator. I added Velux window lights in the roof  with  light chimneys over my workspace, plus a lovely new red AGA (4 door, of course.) And a slate floor.


Power was restored around mid-morning. The shower refused to work and had to be re-primed, the coffee machine also required a re-set. Things have not been going well, but I have finally cleared our brunch things and got my first sour dough away. I have a bowl of spelt sponging, ready to make loaves tomorrow.

In the River Cottage Bread Handbook, Daniel Stevens recommends getting to know your sour dough starter. He talks about the smell, and how different starters vary. I have kept on sniffing at Bill and trying to find a form of words to describe his odour. It’s a soft smell, warm, with only a tinge of sourness in it. There is something to it that I have been unable to place… certainly not sour milk, or apples, or anything sensible that Daniel suggests. Finally, just today, it pinged into recognisable place in my olfactory memory.

Bill smells like emulsion paint!

I hope that this does not bode ill for the bread.

So, the Solstice is passed and the sun is on its journey back to us. How nice it would be to believe in that. Today is so dark and dismal and too wet and windy to get out and about. I just feel grumpy about it all and not at all positive, as I should do at this time.  Mr L feels similarly, apparently.  I may have to bake him a treat for his tea. I certainly need to get going on some bits and pieces for our Xmas Day picnic, just in case that happens. The weather should improve much over the next 48 hours, though nowhere near enough, I think.

Recently, at the: Crooked House

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

I am lagging on the Month in the Country prompts, and lagging badly at that. I have a list of prompts t be caught up on and I shall be working my way through them here, or at Scattered Thoughts depending on where the post most naturally sits. I have elected to tackle the prompts not in date order necessarily but to seize upon prompts that offer me space in which to write down the things that I am feeling the need to say. Even if I need to crowbar it in. The thing is, I am going to continue to be short of time and space in which to write and so a two-for-one is useful and I hope to do as many of those as I can. Seems like a plan? … Continue readingA Month in France: Nothing is Lost

Oh, deer

Oh, deer

Nell and I had a lovely walk this morning. The weather has cooled considerably and there was a very pleasant breeze. We both made better time than of late. … Continue readingOh, deer

Cannot load blog information at this time.

Be First to Comment

I enjoy reading your comments, please pass the time of day

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.