Recently I decided that one of the things I want to do with all my downtime back here in Buenos Aires is to learn how to make really good bread. I’ve made 3 loaves so far with mixed to positive results. The first loaf was a simple white French bread, It had a nice texture, perhaps a wee bit dense but somehow with an awesome thick crunchy crust. The next day it was still delicious, but I decided to change flour brands because the fragrance had just a touch of ode de grocery store. Not overwhelming but who wants old musty flour.
My second loaf was an attempt at a multigrain French loaf that worked out pretty well too. Cracked wheat with linen seeds, walnuts, and a brown glossy crust thanks to brushed egg on top. Again just a wee bit dense.
Leveraging the same recipe, yesterday I started my third loaf. I eliminated the all purpose flour from the recipe since the mass-market whole wheat down here appears to just be white flour with wheat germ mixed in. I also let the bread rise overnight in the hopes that I’d get some nice air bubbles. The results…eh. The texture is a little lighter, but maybe the dough was too wet because the bread spread outwards instead of upwards.
These three loaves, however, are not the source of Pedro and my current misfortune.
My original idea around 5 days ago was to make sourdough bread. But sourdough bread requires that I make sourdough starter, which is basically a awesome little biology experiment in catching wild yeasts on our kitchen counter using only flour and water. The end result is supposed to grow into a beery-smelling little pet who, I discovered through extensive online research, many people name.
Our counter pet doesn’t yet have a name. But it does have an odor. One we discovered while taking out the trash today.
Part of the process of growing our pet is discarding half of it every day and feeding it new flour and water. Being a conscientious person, I elected not to pour the goo down the drain for fear that it would turn into cement in some curve of the plumbing. Instead I tossed portions of our pet into the trash, and since we normally take the trash out every day, I didn’t foresee any problems. Except that yesterday we went to a barbecue. So the trash can had bits of yesterday’s kitchen pet, to which I added more this morning.
A few minutes ago Pedro decided to take out the trash. He opened the bin, and it smelled a little unpleasant. Then he lifted the bag and was subjected to an unforeseen attack. Apparently our pet decided to turn himself into a biological weapon. There was a cry from the kitchen as Pedro was assaulted by noxious gases, then a frantic “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” as the brown pet-juice leaked through the seams of the plastic bag, burning the wretched smell into the floor.
Within the next few days our pet will have to stand trial; to decide whether he’s just too bad to ever turn good. I don’t know where I went wrong in nurturing him, but only once before have I smelled something so foul.
In Miami I bought a cute mini pumpkin one Halloween, and set it on top of the tv as decoration. There the cute little pumpkin stayed for around 9 months until my parents came for a visit and we for some reason decided to throw it away. At the slightest touch, the little pumpkin suddenly melted all over the tv set, and the smell that filled the air was akin to a diaper filled by a baby who had had a wicked night of drinking the day before.
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