Friday, November 26, 2010


Sourdough is amazing stuff. I call mine Fred, and he lives in the fridge - way at the back behind the pickles.

Fred gets fed weekly, he isn't picky. A little flour and water, a dash of sugar and he's happy. But the trouble is that Fred likes to be used weekly. Why is that a trouble you ask?

Sourdough is delicious, it should be simple to keep using it up. And it is, but we are adrift in a sea of cinnamon buns and pumpkin loaf. My freezer is over flowing with sourdough creations. I have begun giving it away, and my 80something year old neighbours reminded me that they can't eat now who do I give it to?

My colleagues are requesting that I stop with the cinnamon buns, their waistlines can't keep up. But neither can mine.

Fred will die if I don't use him.

Sometimes, I get lucky and can find some poor sod, aka a friend, to pawn sourdough off on. "Here! Take a few cups! It's awesome stuff." - and later they curse me for including them in this sick cycle of baking.

I could make bread, but my low carb diet doesn't need any encouraging in the wrong direction.

It's Friday, time to make something with Fred. it murder to let him pass on? The guilt would kill me. Time to make cinnamon buns... again!

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