a loaf that actually rose

2025 · 05

I've been moaning about my bread since about midwinter so it's only fair to report a win. The neighbour, who always seems to catch me at the worst moment and never minds, saw me carrying a particularly grim one out to the bins back in spring and gave me two bits of advice. Make the dough wetter than I'd dare, and run the oven hotter than I'd think to. That was it, then she went back to her seedlings.

Took me until now to do both at the same time. For weeks I'd do one and forget the other, or lose my nerve and add more flour because the dough looked frightening on my hands. This week I just trusted her. The dough was nearly a batter. I nearly gave up twice. I put the oven right up until it ticked and groaned in a way I didn't much like.

And it rose. Actually rose, with a crust that crackled as it cooled and proper holes inside instead of that damp grey close texture I'd got used to. Cut into it way too early, the thing you're told not to do, and stood at the counter eating a warm slice with butter like I'd invented bread.

M. was gracious, considering how many sad loaves have been eaten without a word. There was a short speech about faith and patience that I took in the spirit it was meant. Trying not to get ahead of myself; it's one loaf. But I scribbled the rough method on the back of an envelope so I don't lose it, and next Saturday I'll buy proper flour instead of whatever was cheapest.