First stab at a sourdough, salvo

The first try went awry; wrought woe – whoa! Undeniably ugly:

“When a person can no longer laugh at himself, it is time for others to laugh at him.”

There was clearly something wrong, early on, on the rise, we were surprised to find the dough irrupted with a rift like in Cardiff.

Obviously loafing on the job was the start of this kneady bread’s troubles; further confounded by its apparently abbreviated proof – proof by the excessive expansion, explosively exposed on exit from the oven.

What crust was, was even a wee wan.

However, it was awesome. Not as holey as hoped, but a delightful, delicate crumb and rich, sour flavor – maximally exacerbated with fresh chopped rosemary and roasted garlic.

Amazing – brought joy to our Jared, who is, after all, a sourdough connoisseur and aficionado.

Vanity what it is, though, a second turn, then, taken, to correct mistakes.

“Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one’s self-esteem. (That is why young children, before they are aware of their own self-importance, learn so easily…”)

The presentation was far more resplendent; ego appeasing, but alack, our resident devotee apprised the loaf could not be loved, greater than the bread.

“A child becomes an adult when he realizes that he has a right not only to be right but also to be wrong.”

The rosemary and garlic were omitted, so, perhaps, not fair to compare. But the child is right, regardless.

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

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The Crew are omnivorous land mammals