Half Baked

For a long while, I had a habit of baking sourdough bread almost every week.

I actually didn’t start this in 2020 like seemingly everyone else. I was a couple years late to the party, snagging a piece of starter from a friend around 2023 and then diving headfirst into the world of bread-baking.

At first, I found the process completely overwhelming. I had done a good bit of baking in my life before: Cookies, banana breads, the occasional cake. But sourdough was a completely different level. So much math! I was not built for this!

I struggled along for a couple months, baking loaves that now make me cringe when I think back to them. But eventually I was able to bake a loaf almost completely off-book, knowing nearly all the numbers from memory. And I did so most weeks.

Then I moved to Italy. I did not bring my sourdough starter with me (I looked into it, but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. R.I.P). I also left stateside most of my accumulated bread-baking gadgets.

I was a little sad about this at first but, as you can imagine, I have not wanted for good bread in Italy. My problem is not so much finding good bakeries, but deciding among the litany of good choices in my neighborhood. (Most weeks, I default to my regular bread guy, Cristian).

But recently I did start to miss the activity of baking. I’ve been living here for four months and, it occurred to me, I haven’t baked a single thing. Not a bread, not a cake, not even a cookie.

When I tore open a banana yesterday to find it slightly mushy, I decided this was my chance to whip up one of my classics: Banana bread. (Not exactly sourdough but hey, I gotta start somewhere).

I had most of the ingredients on hand; I purchased brown sugar and vanilla, for example, when I cooked a sweet potato casserole for my Friendsgiving. I also had my cherished ceramic loaf pan, which my parents helpfully ported across the Atlantic on their visit to Milan last month. I popped down to the grocery store to pick up baking soda, but ended up instead with bunch of “lievito” packets that seemed like they would do the job.

Back at home, I squinted at an Italian recipe and tried to follow its orders. I’ve baked enough to know you’re not supposed to play fast and loose with recipes, but I was trying to make do without another trip to the store. I lacked chocolate chips and cinnamon, but I hoped the vanilla would do the job of sweetening the mix.

Into the oven it went, and I clicked and clacked at my laptop while I waited for the result. About an hour later, I pulled a familiar-looking loaf up onto my counter and let it cool.

When I tore off a piece, I was satisfied with the slightly-sweet confection I had created, even if the middle was a bit raw. (It wasn’t my best work, okay!!!) Later, my boyfriend stopped by and we caught up on our days while we each ate another slice.

It was a little thing. But sometimes the little things are quite big.

This weekend’s outdoor adventure was a hike along a misty and mysterious Lago D’Iseo.