For the past few months I have been a regular baker of sourdough (and other) bread-- a fact which impresses houseguests, employers, and others only because they don't understand quite how many of my loaves are half- or total failures. [I have recently learned that my endless string of burnt-bottoms and mushy-tops is the fault of my too-large baking sheet and too-small oven; the baking sheet traps the heat in the bottom of the oven, and the dis-equilibrium scorches the bread.]

I thought I might not be able to top my achievement a few weeks ago, of managing to get waxed paper thoroughly melted onto the entire bottom of my sourdough boules. But tonight, when I meant to be spritzing the tops of the bread with water (to crisp the crusts) I instead used cedarwood counter soap. I'm just glad the soap was smelly enough that I noticed.

I have a love-hate relationship with the yeasty products of my oven. I shower them with undeserved love, and they hate me.