I’m in the centre, preparing to close up and pick Julia up from work. It’s been a quiet day and I have done a reasonable amount of work, albeit of an unpaid nature.
The main part fo the day has been spent in researching historic bread recipes, and after five hours of reading the internet I’m left with the impression that although a few things may have changed (such as better yeast, electric ovens and more refined flour) bread is basically the same as it was 1,000 years ago. White bread, brown bread, rye bread. I suppose we don’t have to eat peas, beans and acorns but apart from that I’m not sure there’s much difference.
If I want to bake some historic breads I’m going to have to turn to spices rather than making plain loaves, or maybe run up the outdoor oven. It probably isn’t worth the effort as you can get that outdoor oven finish by baking it at high temperature and throwing some ash at it as a finishing touch.
Meanwhile, when I haven’t been thinking of bread I’ve been looking into the incubator.
Three of the eggs have now pipped and there’s a weedy chirping sound emerging from the machine.
This is a long way from the end result I’m hoping for, but it’s a start. At least I know some of them have developed properly.
I’m resisting the temptation to help nature along by peeling some shell off as I’m sure it’s better for chicks to do it themselves.
I’ll take a picture or two before I go and load them when I get home.