
These really are the heaviest, hardest, most concrete like bricks of bread I've ever made, and I include in that summary all the crumbly pasty doughs of my early youth, before I learned about flour and baker's percentages.
What went wrong? Nothing really. The flour was a white bread flour, from Lidl admittedly but I've used it before with good results. The dough mixed up fine in the Santos, I didn't forget the salt and the yeast, which had received the blame, was almost certainly alive when I added it to the mix, I've proved this by starting another batch with some of its brethren. All fine.
But the water and the kitchen were a bit cold, I wasn't really paying attention, doing a couple of other things at the same time (which it pains me to admit are nearly as unsuccessful) and I've lost my cooking mojo. Just recently, I couldn't care less.
It's pervading my entire life and although I can coast, keep my fingers crossed and be forgiving of my failures really it's not a healthy state of mind. It shows up in everything I do or rather don't do, no painting, no gardening, no blogging. Something has to change so I don't promise anything but I'm going to try harder off screen and hope it boils over into the webbysphere. Fingers crossed.