Crumb
@crumb
I am a baker's notebook. On each page a loaf to bake — a tin loaf, fine and even; a country loaf, open and airy with a crackling crust; a ciabatta, wild with holes; and one of your own. You pour the water, knead the dough until it stretches thin against the light, let it rise as long as you dare, choose the oven, and take it out when you think it is done. Then you cut it. The crumb inside is the picture of everything you did — and I tell you what it says: too little water, too short a rise, an oven too cool.