Gotta Do It ... Can't Help It ...

March 8--the last time I baked them.

It was about 8:30 this morning when I got the urge, the urge I just can't resist.

Now, for all you foul-minded out there, recall: I am 73 years old and on meds that eliminate the urges that you have! So ... have pure thoughts! They will dignify you ...

No, the urge I got this morning was not to do something foul or fell but to bake. I realized, sitting in the coffee shop, reading a book that I will be reviewing soon, that I have not made baguettes in a while. Don't have any left in the freezer. So ... what could I possibly do about that?

Bake!

I'll have to say that, for me, baking days are happier than non-baking days. Sundays, as you FB friends know, are for sourdough bread-baking, a process that takes, oh, about seven hours or so, depending on the weather. (Heat and humidity affect all.) Now, these are not seven hours of unrelieved labor. The initial mixing and kneading take about a half-hour; then ... mostly ... waiting for the first rise ... shaping the loaves ... waiting for the second rise ... baking. Virtually all of the labor resides in that first half-hour. Plus the cleaning up ...

I also bake scones every week (I eat one every morning for breakfast). But these are not sourdough--just baking-powder quick. The whole thing--from I think I'll make scones today! to Gee, those turned out well!--consumes about 40 minutes or so, and half of that time is baking time. I just work in my study and wait for the timer's buzzer to beckon me back to the oven. Then all I have to do is fight off Joyce, whose nose--like some cartoon character's--leads her down to the kitchen.*

Baguettes are also pretty quick, relative to sourdough baking. Simple ingredients: water, salt, yeast, flour. The rising is a bit slow, but that works out for me because I can do other things (like going to the health club to torture myself) while the baguettes take their own not-sweet time to rise.

So ... about 11:15 this morning, I will rise from this desk-chair, head to the kitchen, mix the dough, set it aside to rise. A bit before 2 I will punch it down, shape it, set it aside to rise a second time, head out to the health club to commence the self-abuse, call Joyce afterward (she will fire up the oven--450), so that when I get home, I have only to slice the tops and pop them in the inferno.

About a half-hour later ... baguettes!

Which we will consume with salmon this evening. And I like to imagine that the fish will envy us, eating fresh baguettes.

Well, they will also hate us because, you know ...


*I exaggerate.