I was nervous about transporting my starter interstate. So much so that I divided it up so I could carry some in my suitcase and my carry on. Not one security guard batted an eyelid, but then I bet they see some crazy stuff.
So the starters were alive.I have two but sadly they don't have names (a and b doesn't count). I just can't seem to name them like a child or pet, even though that's kind of what they are.
I fed them put them in the fridge and waited.Our first temporary house had a wood fired oven but no scales. I started getting twitchy. Even though there was a great bakery just around the corner, I yearned to do some baking. Last Thursday we moved up the hill away from the bakery and the beach into a place with scales, albeit basic ones. I had considered packing my scales in my suitcase, but I thought that might cause problems what with the starter and container of flour. This anxiety may have stemmed from a recent viewing of a movie called The Mule.
So I finally baked some loaves. Not perfect but enough to scratch that particular itch for the time being.
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