Listen Bread, I know you've heard the rumors, about the way I've been coquetting all over mangia tutta di maiale and food52, but they just aren't true. I mostly talk about you when I'm with them, about how much I love you, even when you're crusty and temperamental, maybe especially then.
Nothing can come between us, Bread, I'm committed to this relationship. We made it past the honeymoon stage, and now it's time to set some boundaries and install a schedule of quality time if this thing is gonna work. And it will work. I just need a little more time to figure out how you will fit into my life. Just know, Bread, that you are my staff, but if it's proof that you want I'll give you all that you knead.
I gotta go now. But I'll see you Sunday, right? You'll make me that sourdough pizza I've been dreaming about? I can't wait, Bread, to hear your beautiful song once again.
115g black, oil-cured olives
Here's a little slice of what I experimented with along with the rye. I am going to keep fiddling with fermentation times and formulae and post them when they're right. Whatever that means.
Have a look: