There is something so primevil about making bread at home. It seems so imenseley and disproportionately fullifilling and seems to satisfy so many underlying subliminal needs. Well it does for me .....

Funnily enough I've developed a really easy going ritual which gives us extraordinary quality baguettes twice a day. Only one dough batch per day whichj is shared between morning and evening - but on a simple three day cycle ie day 1 poolish starter - day 2 mix dough day 3 bake using half in morning half in evening.

So in essence every day I'm just mixing a little yeast and flour (100gm mix of rye and plain) and water in a square bowl and putting it on the window ledge. I'm mixing yesterdays starter with some flour water and salt and putting into the square tub which goes into the fridge for 24 hours to mature and rise. I'm using yesterday square tub of dough from the fridge for todays bread. As I'm emptying and refilling the rectangular dough box in the fridge each day it's only one tub needed and doesn't take up much room in the fridge.

It really just takes around 10 minutes a day and beats anything shop bought and provides 4 fresh baguettes morning and evening every day for around 50p in total. The morning it's with jame - and in the evening it's either with salami, or cheese or a sausage or something.

Sometimes there's some olive and oregano sourdough bread for lunch or something else to divert me but every day is a fresh bread day .......

I sound obsessed with bread don't I? How sad does that make me?