The Crowthers (re)Tired in Kaikohe
Fat, Dumb and Happy
After decades of use, Mr Sammy’s wooden spoon has just about had enough of stirring jams, jellies, stewed fruit, steak and kidley, cake batter, bikkits and breads.
This morning it was being used for stewing apples, and the business end was staying in one spot while the handle flexed while my arm was stirring. I’m not for a second going to blame the Samster’s workmanship: the spoon doesn’t owe us anything after all its service.
Today was a hot one for Waitangi Day, and I thought that would ensure my sourdough would go gangbusters, just like my starter was at breakfast time. I mixed up my dough, put on the shower cap (¡on the mixing bowl, not my noggin!) and put the bowl out on the deck rail in the sunshine to proof. Without considering what the temperature was gonna get up to in the tiny glasshouse I had just created.
Sure ’nuff – when I took it inside to tip it onto a board to preform it ready for the banneton it had WAY over-proofed and turned to flour and pumpkin seed custard. ¡Buggar! Time to become Mr International Bread Rescue.
I threw some more flour onto the board and kneaded and floured and kneaded and floured until I had a born-again dough.
¡Hallelujah!
And I cut it up and patted it out to fit my biggest cast iron frypan, and yea, verily, I discovereth flat bread. Turned out half-way between naan and tortilla and was very nummy.
Mock tacos – 🌮🌮🌮🌮.
