A Pint A Pound, The Whole World ‘Round
We last touched our faces in February,
forty days of stress-baking feats:
the floured hands are washed
and chapped, and floured again.
Our comfy pants will stretch like
flowers from the growing earth,
and baskets full of bread warm
our hearts and hearths.
Flour and water mixed, and set
in the breeze or potato water left
overnight – these, the chance
and happenstance of leavening –
birth our starters to luck
or moldy doom. We give them names:
Beauregaurd and Armistead, wild,
archaic – we think that fusty spells
and agnomens will encourage them
to bubble and bloom.
Like Rip Van Winkle, yeast can sleep past
pestilence and plague. A baker and Xbox
maker is coaxing awake a strain last fed
to pyramid-builders on the Nile delta plain.
Found slumbering in terra cotta pots,
it’s funky, he says, and makes delicious bread.
When you’ve slept an age
through drought and epidemic doubt,
the least we can expect is a little
must. In times of trouble, if you’ve flour,
and water, a rhyme of eggs, and milk, and butter
you’ve a shortcake to be made. With a pinch
of yeast, you’ve a braided eggy loaf:
sweetbreads for the coming Spring.
Challah after Pesach, soft fruited loaves
for Easter feasts: our secluded needs
are simple – it’s all about the yeast.
Glo/NaPoWriMo Day Three asks us to open up a rhyme generator and see where it leads us. Funnily enough, I haven’t been baking during COVID-19 isolation, but I know a lot of people who have, and I’ve been following the story of the ancient Egyptian yeast on Twitter (https://twitter.com/SeamusBlackley) for a few months and it delights my cooking nerditry to no ends. Today, I share it with you.
This is highly enjoyable! Love the wordplay.
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Thank you! It isn’t what I thought I’d be writing about at all today.
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Love this, and thank you for the link. I don’t know how I missed that story.
I bake all the time, but I’m almost out of yeast. . .
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Thank you – and it’s a great story (and great bread learning if you follow the baker/xbox maker on Twitter – and, oooh! there’s another rhyme.)
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😀
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This was lovely. Only I had no yeast so I baked bread with butter milk instead🙂
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Sounds delicious! Thank you.
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I love the opening line!
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Gotta make me some shortcake right NOW! Thank you for getting me going.
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You’re welcome! I’ll be dreaming of
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… The smell of baking shortbread for the morning’s writing.
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It looks like your post turns out to be a starter all by itself… I’ve never gathered wild yeast, but I feel I want to now!
Lovely poem, in so many ways.
And I’m going to click on that Egyptian yeast link now, I’m fascinated!
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Somehow this ended up in my spam folder – but thank you, a couple of days late!
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Inspired. This is brilliant!
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Thank you!
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Lovely! I can smell the baking loaves~!
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It’s one of the best smells in the world. Thank you!
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You’re welcome, Nora! And I agree, nothing like the smell of baking bread, or the taste of the bread, either!
– Carol
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Brilliant on so many levels – a well Leaven poem
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Thank you- and I see what you did there!
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I love the opening line! Sets the tone for the rest of the poem so we’ll. I bought yeast when he shopped for social distancing. This inspires me to actually use it!
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Go forth and bake!
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I really enjoyed this. I especially liked “We give them names:
Beauregaurd and Armistead, wild,
archaic” as if the starters were pets. Very fun.
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Thank you. I know of starters generations old, and they are very much a part of the family – and my feed has been full of new starters being brought into the fold and named.
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I absolutely love this story. A worthy mission! I only wish I could have tasted some of that bread myself… ❤
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