I realised today that my bread-making self has been massively spoiled this year, because we’ve enjoyed lovely warm weather and sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.
And today, when I jump on the bread-making wagon after a few weeks away from the yeast and kneading I find myself going out of my way to try and trap as much heat as possible in the kitchen without resorting to just pre-heating the oven for six hours.
There were a couple of times that I needed to go to the back garden and had to slip out of the back door like a stealthy ninja so as not to let the crisp (aka cooold) air in to hibernate my yeast.
But I soon became a master of pulling all the doors closed, and cutting off drafts at every turn.
My dough doubled in size nicely. I just needed to knock it back and form it into rolls.
I couldn’t protect the rolls from the cold, though. Or so it seemed. I’ve been treated, over summer, to nice big rolls. Even the cheesy hot cross buns I made the other day were big beasts.
But my rolls today…
Even with the gentle heating of a Gas Mark 4 oven in close proximity didn’t embiggen them in ways that previous months have.
Winter’s rubbish for bread. Maybe I should move onto pastry, something I am traditionally too hot for throughout the rest of the year. Something that I can destroy with a warm finger and a string of curses.
Jam tarts all the way, then.
It’ll be spring soon!