Fuckers didn’t fucking work.
I hate the fucking world tonight because here is what I did that didn’t fucking work.
I took my sourdough–let’s call him Bob (we’ve been re-watching Twin Peaks)–and made the bread thing that bubbles overnight. I’m lazy at this shit so I use time instead of muscle to get the gluten formation.
Anyway I took the resulting sticky-as-fuck dough out and dumped it on the counter that was covered in a fuck-ton of flour. Then I kneaded the dough (adding flour) till it wasn’t a stick-fucking mess.
I then cut it to make buns. You know hotdog and hamburger sized things.
I hand rolled them out and floured the crease so that there would be hope of opening them up. (I was so wrong in my hope.)
Then I tossed them on a parchment paper clad sheet pan so they could rise for a bit.
After they got bigger and looked like they could hold a hotdog I put them in an oven at 4000 F and baked till they looked done (golden brown and hollow sounding when you thump them). No steam and maybe that was my mistake.
Anyway they came out looking and smelling good and are hard as rocks on the outside. Not so great for the 6 yr old with no front teeth. The kids still ate their hotdogs. One dog on a bun the other off. And fuck the rest of the bread. I’ll chop it up and put it into bread pudding or something…like the garbage.
Update: these things have a life of their own. My dad left them in his clouch as a still life. And here they are over a month later-as soft as they were day one.
I tossed them tonight. SMH
