Camilla would shape her sourdough right before it went in the oven, into a sort of dutch oven that was a heavy iron cooking pot and lid with a three tiny holes. She shaped it the same way a bread bun is made, stretching and folding the edges to the middle and squeezing them together so they would stay. Then she'd flip it over, let it free-fall into her oven-hot cooking pot. That aroma came to hold the memories of our lifetime together, of moments, days and years as if they were the same.
The sourdough would be left in the refrigerator overnight, and before the children awoke our home was already infused with the aroma of freshly baked bread.
Learning how to make sourdough began with the starter dough, creating it from flour and water. Stacy began by putting a jar of water on the window ledge overnight to let the chlorine gas escape, then when she awoke mixing it 1:1 with flour in a tall kitchen jar.
Leo would wet his hands before handling the dough to stop it from sticking to his fingers, letting the water run over them before shaking them out onto the stone-tiled floor.
Angel kept her sourdough starter as if it were her pet, she had after all started it with only flour and water. After watching a few videos on YouTube she'd becomes something of a master baker, and the results, well, they were seriously yum.
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