Now that's more like it. In fact, let me immodestly say that this might be the most beautiful loaf of bread I have ever made. It so far surpasses the Silesian Light Rye that there is no comparison. Sometimes it's just luck, but here I feel like it is the recipe and luck, and good ingredients. It did the sourdough refreshment and the first major rise in the refrigerator, which in this weather is probably very good for it, and everything just went off perfectly. Ramona got to watch my ridiculous bread-dandling ritual, and I got to pull that sexy little loaf out of the oven. Unlike parenting, I imagine, there is a point when you can really just tell that it's going to be a good one. I still want to try making this from a german rye sourdough, but I'm not bothering with that light rye again. Might, might, try the darker Silesian rye, but quite honestly, this one being another of the triumphs from the mostly spectacular Local Breads, I could just keep on making it.
And the best part? No yeast. Just sourdough. That makes me feel so magical (not that yeast isn't magical enough, but there's something about a sourdough).
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