Ye shall find here (for fucking once) a true “micro” post. I’m too flooded with glee over the arrival of The Bicycle for another long-winded treatise. Oh, she’s all chocolate and cream and a metallic akin to the shimmering sea with big swooping letters and whitewall tires and wicker.
And this is the burgeoning sourdough starter: She is quite a delicate and temperamental creature, rising on some days and luxuriating flatly (to my chagrin) on others despite all the immaculate implements, meticulously controlled temperatures, and direction-following. One day I arrived home from a long, sweet day of various forms of ‘summering’ to see that she had puffed herself proudly to well over 2 cups, at which point Rose of The Bread Bible recommended I give into “the impulse to give it a name.” Henceforward she shall be called Ruby, an appellation that somehow suits her fickle airs and yeasty wiles. Perhaps one day, she will actually yield some bread.