Why must I always experiment? Breadmaking is chemistry difficult enough yet I can’t leave the recipe alone This time, for higher rise adding fast-acting yeast to sourdough Not in the cookbook— written conversation with ClaudeAI and phone call with Fleischmann’s Yeast woman’s voice from the hills of Missouri I took her advice
Sounds delicious! I used to bake three times a week, now my son does it. He is very precise with sour dough I’ll tell him about adding yeast.. he’ll want to know how much?! I hope the treatment works🌺
I called the number on the Fleishmann's yeast fast-acting packet, and a woman who sounded old and from the country, and well-experienced in breadmaking answered. She suggested adding 1 packet of fast-acting yeast to two loaves of bread--I make sourdough two at a time. It definitely sped up the proofing time--cut it down by hours. My loaves are big--they weigh about 1.5 pounds each. Also, I use loaf pans because we eat sandwiches for lunch, and prefer a regular sized rectangular bread shape instead of the more traditional oval loaves. I even make olive bread, which my husband adores, in bread pans.
Thank you so much Amrita. If it’s not a bother how much dried yeast is in one of your packets? Ours will be different. I just dissolve a spoonful in tepid water with a tsp spoonful of sugar or honey and add to flours. Yes we make fast rising focaccia too with sliced black olives and rosemary here. In a large toasting pan for a crowd. It’s very Mediterranean in Western Australia. Yours looks lovely. I hope your treatment assisted with pain.
Amrita, only life could replace a spinal injection with a Mary Oliver documentary. 😊
Perhaps that table didn't fail—it quietly changed the day's prescription.
I hope the film brings you the kind of relief medicine sometimes cannot. And may the next appointment arrive with a stronger table and the same good humour you continue to carry through all of this.
I too, love the poem. It reminds me of the importance of food. Even though we've been lifelong farmers, I often fail to see the wonder in food. Thank you for reminding me.
I am a brand-new baker. I think these are the 12th or 14th loaves I have made--I make two at a time. 5 years ago, on my request, my husband took over all the cooking. This way, I contribute--he adores fresh homemade bread. Being a native Dutchman, they had fresh bread EVERY DAY. Imagine! And now I can't bake at all until we solve my neck problems.--Can't use my dominant (left) hand at all. That's where all the pain is.
I love how the poem quietly reminds us that even a loaf of bread carries conversations—with books, people, machines, and experience. In the end, the rise isn't only in the dough.
Oh Subhash, your comment made me laugh out loud—the final sentence! Here in the United States, landmass so big, we speak of some regional dialect phrases as "a geographic speech impediment." When I called the phone number on the packet of yeast, I honestly thought I might be speaking to someone from Bangladesh or India—so many of the call centers are overseas now. And to speak to this clearly old woman who sounded like she was from the hill country of Missouri, and most likely has been making bread for 55 years, I almost fell off my chair, and I certainly was going to trust her advice! A moment of warm delight I won’t forget for the rest of my life.
Amrita, that image of you almost falling off your chair made me smile. 😊
Sometimes the greatest comfort isn't the answer itself—it's the voice that carries it. Fifty-five years of making bread sounds far more reassuring than the most sophisticated help desk.
I'm also wishing you the very best with the injection. May the relief arrive quietly, one day at a time.
And thank you for sharing this story. It's one of those moments that lingers long after the conversation ends.
Get this--I was all prepped, drugged, ready to receive my injection, when, on the patient before me, their table broke, and they had to cancel my injection. Life can be so maddingly hilarious sometimes. So instead, my husband is going to drop me off at the theater to see the new Mary Oliver (American poet) documentary. She's very famous here, loved dogs as I do, and her spirituality was the sacred book of nature. I suspect I will enjoy it very much.
I'm so sorry, Joyce. My 51-year-old son (52 in one week!) also suffers from severe chronic pain. It is so very hard. My sympathies to your husband. That is also hard on you. I've been a caretaker all of my adult life. Tiring to be on call, no matter now much love there is.
Sounds delicious! I used to bake three times a week, now my son does it. He is very precise with sour dough I’ll tell him about adding yeast.. he’ll want to know how much?! I hope the treatment works🌺
I called the number on the Fleishmann's yeast fast-acting packet, and a woman who sounded old and from the country, and well-experienced in breadmaking answered. She suggested adding 1 packet of fast-acting yeast to two loaves of bread--I make sourdough two at a time. It definitely sped up the proofing time--cut it down by hours. My loaves are big--they weigh about 1.5 pounds each. Also, I use loaf pans because we eat sandwiches for lunch, and prefer a regular sized rectangular bread shape instead of the more traditional oval loaves. I even make olive bread, which my husband adores, in bread pans.
Thank you so much Amrita. If it’s not a bother how much dried yeast is in one of your packets? Ours will be different. I just dissolve a spoonful in tepid water with a tsp spoonful of sugar or honey and add to flours. Yes we make fast rising focaccia too with sliced black olives and rosemary here. In a large toasting pan for a crowd. It’s very Mediterranean in Western Australia. Yours looks lovely. I hope your treatment assisted with pain.
Amrita, only life could replace a spinal injection with a Mary Oliver documentary. 😊
Perhaps that table didn't fail—it quietly changed the day's prescription.
I hope the film brings you the kind of relief medicine sometimes cannot. And may the next appointment arrive with a stronger table and the same good humour you continue to carry through all of this.
Table fixed, and epidural is tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.!
I too, love the poem. It reminds me of the importance of food. Even though we've been lifelong farmers, I often fail to see the wonder in food. Thank you for reminding me.
I am a brand-new baker. I think these are the 12th or 14th loaves I have made--I make two at a time. 5 years ago, on my request, my husband took over all the cooking. This way, I contribute--he adores fresh homemade bread. Being a native Dutchman, they had fresh bread EVERY DAY. Imagine! And now I can't bake at all until we solve my neck problems.--Can't use my dominant (left) hand at all. That's where all the pain is.
I love how the poem quietly reminds us that even a loaf of bread carries conversations—with books, people, machines, and experience. In the end, the rise isn't only in the dough.
Oh Subhash, your comment made me laugh out loud—the final sentence! Here in the United States, landmass so big, we speak of some regional dialect phrases as "a geographic speech impediment." When I called the phone number on the packet of yeast, I honestly thought I might be speaking to someone from Bangladesh or India—so many of the call centers are overseas now. And to speak to this clearly old woman who sounded like she was from the hill country of Missouri, and most likely has been making bread for 55 years, I almost fell off my chair, and I certainly was going to trust her advice! A moment of warm delight I won’t forget for the rest of my life.
Today an injection into my spine that may, over the next weeks, bring me relief. May it be so.
May it be so!
Amrita, that image of you almost falling off your chair made me smile. 😊
Sometimes the greatest comfort isn't the answer itself—it's the voice that carries it. Fifty-five years of making bread sounds far more reassuring than the most sophisticated help desk.
I'm also wishing you the very best with the injection. May the relief arrive quietly, one day at a time.
And thank you for sharing this story. It's one of those moments that lingers long after the conversation ends.
Get this--I was all prepped, drugged, ready to receive my injection, when, on the patient before me, their table broke, and they had to cancel my injection. Life can be so maddingly hilarious sometimes. So instead, my husband is going to drop me off at the theater to see the new Mary Oliver (American poet) documentary. She's very famous here, loved dogs as I do, and her spirituality was the sacred book of nature. I suspect I will enjoy it very much.
I understand. My husband has chronic pain. Its a challenging state.
I'm so sorry, Joyce. My 51-year-old son (52 in one week!) also suffers from severe chronic pain. It is so very hard. My sympathies to your husband. That is also hard on you. I've been a caretaker all of my adult life. Tiring to be on call, no matter now much love there is.
Agree completely 👌 👍 💯.
And what did it taste like?
The yummiest, freshest, olive bread ever. I simply haven't figured out how to write the flavor.
the next poem clearly needs to be an invitation for breakfast/lunch/dinner! yummy!