May 17, 2011




We couldn't have asked for more beautiful bread. All pocked and crisp. They sang as they cooled.

Roberto held the sheet pan over the sink while I sprayed the loaves.

That's good. That's enough.

A little bit more.

That's ENOUGH.

Okay. That's good.

Satisfied, I opened the oven door and in went the loaves. Two at a time.

Because it would be silly for us to make just one and if we're going to make two we might as well make four.

And so it went.


For the Birds


These are delicious. Perfect, actually. To be honest, though, they could be a bit dryer.


I know what the difference is. I weighed the flour. I'm not going to weigh the flour anymore.

You don't need to weigh the flour.

All one needs is instinct.


  1. Recipe Tracy, please :)

    I promise I won't weigh the flour.

  2. Those look perfect. As in bread perfection.

  3. Do you have a spare room? I am moving in!

  4. Your ciabatta looks wonderful! I like your note about weighing ingredients. It's supposed to be the most precise way to write and follow a recipe. Precise just isn't my thing.

  5. Your instincts are spot on, so no more weighing. Nevertheless, these look gorgeous and delicious.

  6. Yes to instinct. I hadn't realize that throwing messy handfulls of flour into the bowl qualified!

  7. Such gorgeous loaves, Tracy. I love that you and your man work together in the kitchen. It's so companionable and makes me smile. :-)

  8. beautiful ciabatta! and serendipity! my friend Maggie tells me she has perfected her ciabatta recipe, and I plan to visit her in the country next week to make a batch. uncertain if she is a flour-weigher or not. (I'm a not.)


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