Something In The Flour
Carrying on from my last ramblings, I thought I’d talk about something that’s quietly taken over a corner of our kitchen and a fair bit of my thinking lately – bread. Proper bread. The kind that doesn’t come wrapped in plastic with a best-before date longer than some marriages. Like many things in my life, it started with a bit of head-scratching, a bit of tight-fistedness, and the stubborn belief that “there must be a better way of doing this”. So I sat down with a calculator (and a cup of tea) and worked it out. A full 13-inch Pullman tin loaf – the sort that slices beautifully and actually fills the toaster – costs me around 80 penc e to make. That’s not a typo. Eighty pence. For a loaf that weighs more, tastes better, and doesn’t crumble into sawdust if you look at it funny. And if I fancy cobs instead? I can knock out 12 proper cobs for the same money . Not those sad little air-filled excuses you get in a bag of six for three quid. These are real cobs. Ones that can hold ...
