1. My phone battery dies overnight but our – and the animals’ – body clocks wake us right on time.
2. The bracken, brambles and balsam have died away to reveal new paths through the woods and fields. We walk them together, her tail spinning, my heels sinking into the leaf mulch.
3. I love homemade bread – the substance and process of it – but every now and then, a fluffy floury bun from the supermarket is the most divine thing in the world.
1. I get up to let the chickens into the run then sneak back to bed, curling around the dog who has taken my place while I was away. Outside, it felt earlier than it is – soft sunlight, a dawn-like chill – but the bedroom is toasty warm.
2. The bread’s even brown crust glistens as it slips out of the pan without hesitation. Later, the scones are as equally uniform in gorgeous colour. A good baking day.
3. I remember I’ve got her bone in my pocket and initiate a game of fetch. She doesn’t really know how to play Fetch but with coaching, she’s gets it and grins in anticipation before each round. Suddenly, she hears a distant bark and gets self-conscious as if she thinks Fetch is not respectable doggie behaviour.
1. I spend the afternoon pottering in the garden – sowing more salad, potting on small seedlings and planting out their bigger siblings. Growing veg is such a waiting game – waiting and hoping – but when I see the first courgettes forming, it feels worth it.
2. John’s out all day at a friend’s stag do but pops home between the go-karting and the evening activities to eat some bread & jam.
3. Boron discovers a new place to sleep – my yarn stash between the sofa & the armchair. I hear rustling as he circles around, padding it into shape but by the time I turn around to look at him, he’s curled in a tight circle, his chin resting on a fluffy magenta skein.
1. Her freshly clipped coat feels like velvet.
2. We worry – as we always do – that the play is bordering on fighting but the woman assures us that it is definitely play. The dogs bounce around together amongst the oak trees as we talk about them behind their backs.
3. The slow-rise bread – 22 hours in the making – comes out of the oven too late to eat with dinner so we have it as dessert instead. Its golden dome is perfectly cracked, its centre spongy & bubbled.
1) The doorbell rings and it’s the smiling postman with a long awaited eBay purchase – a 50 year old big blue enamel bowl. I’d bought it intending for it to be a planter but it’s so pretty in the flesh that I want to use it for something grander. It’s delightfully cool to the touch.
2) The toast atomises with each delicious bite.
3) The Gillroyd Parade hosts another fine evening of entertainment at the Packhorse in Leeds. The crowd is smaller than usual but kind, the music beautifully lilting and the lyrics clever but fun.
I wanted to make some flatbreads to go with our lamb tagine this evening but all the recipes called for plain flour & yeast and I couldn’t find any of the latter in our over-stuffed cupboard. I kept the yeast-activating honey from the recipes I found though and aside from that just improvised.
They turned out ace – sweet and tasty in their own right but the taste didn’t overpower or clash with the flavour of the tagine.
(I don’t really measure/weigh stuff so quantities are estimates)
Preheat the oven to about gas mark 5.
Put the flour in a mixing bowl and add the honey & the oils. Mix together (but it won’t mix that well because it’s pretty dry).
Gradually add water, mixing all the time until you get a well mixed stiff (ie, not sloppy) dough. Knead it a bit.
Divide dough into pieces – four for (my) hand-size breads, six for smaller ones. Roll them in your hands to make a ball then squish them out flat on a dusted board/counter. Squish them out further with your palm until they’re, I don’t know, just under 1cm? in height. Throw some toasted sesame seeds on the top if you want to use them.
Lightly grease up a baking tray with olive oil, or if you’re an excitable sort, a little sesame oil. Plop the breads on the tray and put the trays in the oven, top shelf, for about, I don’t know, I’m really not good at this numbers business, 15 minutes? – until they’re cooked but no more lightly brown on the bottom and slightly browning on the top. Leave to stand for a minute then serve immediately or as immediately as you can manage if you’re anything like us.
© 2024 Louisa Parry