Patty cake, Patty cake Baker’s man!

Okay, so I’m not a man. And I don’t really know what a patty cake is. I did, however, bake bread this morning that turned out so beautiful, so delicious that I swear to you, I nearly wept at its glory. I am not tooting my own horn here, I am just singing the praises of how it feels to bake a beautiful boule of artisan bread at seven a.m. on a Saturday morning, with the crisp air of November in your hair. Gee, whiz, what glee! It started with this video on youtube done by a New York Times writer with the aide of a very helpful baker in Hell’s Kitchen. You don’t even have to knead it, you just have to let it sit and let time do the work. I don’t have batteries for my camera which is devastating, but I’m about to go get some and then will post pictures of my triumph. It’s moments like these that really make me feel like I’m making the right life decision, going to culinary school. When things out and out fail in my kitchen I don’t get frustrated, per se. I just get disheartened. I feel sorry for the food I’ve ruined and sort of stand there in a listless way, like a mourner might at a funeral.

But today was not a day like that, and I’m way thrilled. Pictures soon after a quick jaunt to… well, it won’t be a quick jaunt but a jaunt, nonetheless, to get batteries.