#FoodTuesday #sourdough #failure #writingprompt

So I said to myself, “Self,” I said, “sourdough bread is too expensive. Imma make my own.” I read how to do a starter and I did a starter.

Then I looked up how to make sourdough bread, and I was suddenly inhabited by the spirit of Joe Pesci. I was like, “Yah fuckin kiddin me. Are you fucking KIDDING me? Ya fuckin kiddin me, right?”

I gave it a shot anyway.

When I finished, a day in my life was gone, never to be retrieved, my kitchen was 1000 degrees Fahrenheit with a heat index (because you use steam as part of the cooking process) of about 6000 degrees above that. And the result?

My baguettes, as I told the sourdough lady the next day when I humbly paid her asking price and told her it was too low, were more like batons. I was going to bring her one so we could laugh together, but the day after cooking them the crust was so hard you couldn’t break it with a hammer, and I’m not licensed to carry a deadly weapon.

I threw them out, thinking surely they’d biodegrade before the heat death of the universe, and some wild critter actually decimated them. Now I’m afeared to go outside.

I give up, y’all. If I want sourdough, I’ll pay for it and count it cheap.

My sourdough lady said, “It’s a labor of love.” I said, “It’s a labor, all right.”

A WRITING PROMPT FROM ME TO YOU: Someone thinks something is easy, but it isn’t.

MA